Tam. Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this hand
That lead thy life to this unworthy end; 125
Forgive it for the bloud with which ’tis stain’d,
In which I writ the summons of thy death —
The forced summons — by this bleeding wound,
By this here in my bosome, and by this
That makes me hold up both my hands embrew’d 130
For thy deare pardon.
Buss. O, my heart is broken.
Fate nor these murtherers, Monsieur nor the Guise,
Have any glory in my death, but this,
This killing spectacle, this prodigie.
My sunne is turn’d to blood, in whose red beams 135
Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snow
Laid on my heart and liver), from their veines
Melt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks,
Into the ocean of all humane life,
And make it bitter, only with my bloud. 140
O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertue
In me (like warning fire upon the top
Of some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill)
Made to expresse it: like a falling starre
Silently glanc’t, that like a thunderbolt 145
Look’t to have struck, and shook the firmament! Moritur.
Umb. Fri. Farewell! brave reliques of a compleat man,
Look up, and see thy spirit made a starre.
Joine flames with Hercules, and when thou set’st
Thy radiant forehead in the firmament, 150
Make the vast chrystall crack with thy receipt;
Spread to a world of fire, and the aged skie
Cheere with new sparks of old humanity.
[To Montsurry.] Son of the earth, whom my unrested soule
Rues t’have begotten in the faith of heaven, 155
Assay to gratulate and pacifie
The soule fled from this worthy by performing
The Christian reconcilement he besought
Betwixt thee and thy lady; let her wounds,
Manlessly digg’d in her, be eas’d and cur’d 160
With balme of thine owne teares; or be assur’d
Never to rest free from my haunt and horror.
Mont. See how she merits this, still kneeling by,
And mourning his fall, more than her own fault!
Umb. Fri. Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband: 165
So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.
Tam. O wretched piety, that art so distract
In thine owne constancie, and in thy right
Must be unrighteous. If I right my friend,
I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne, 170
The duty of my friend I leave undone.
Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth;
No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth.
O had I never married but for forme;
Never vow’d faith but purpos’d to deceive; 175
Never made conscience of any sinne,
But clok’t it privately and made it common;
Nor never honour’d beene in bloud or mind;
Happy had I beene then, as others are
Of the like licence; I had then beene honour’d, 180
Liv’d without envie; custome had benumb’d
All sense of scruple and all note of frailty;
My fame had beene untouch’d, my heart unbroken:
But (shunning all) I strike on all offence.
O husband! deare friend! O my conscience! 185
Mons. Come, let’s away; my sences are not proofe
Against those plaints.
Exeunt Guise, Mon[sieur above]. D’Ambois is borne off.
Mont. I must not yeeld to pity, nor to love
So servile and so trayterous: cease, my bloud,
To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgement. 190
Away! forsake my house; forbeare complaints
Where thou hast bred them: here all things [are] full
Of their owne shame and sorrow — leave my house.
Tam. Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone;
And till these wounds (that never balme shall close 195
Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them,
Being opened by your hands) by death be cur’d,
I never more will grieve you with my sight;
Never endure that any roofe shall part
Mine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts 200
(Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie,
Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men,
And look on no side till I be arriv’d.
Mont. I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees
(With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour 205
Would suffer reconcilement to my love:
But, since it will not, honour never serve
My love with flourishing object, till it sterve!
And as this taper, though it upwards look,
Downwards must needs consume, so let our love! 210
As, having lost his hony, the sweet taste
Runnes into savour, and will needs retaine
A spice of his first parents, till (like life)
It sees and dies, so let our love! and, lastly,
As when the flame is suffer’d to look up 215
It keepes his luster, but being thus turn’d downe
(His naturall course of usefull light inverted)
His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love!
Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee;
And may both points of heavens strait axeltree 220
Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me! Exeunt severally.
Finis Actus Quinti & Ultimi.
EPILOGUE
With many hands you have seene D’Ambois slaine;
Yet by your grace he may revive againe,
And every day grow stronger in his skill
To please, as we presume he is in will.
The best deserving actors of the time 5
Had their ascents, and by degrees did clime
To their full height, a place to studie due.
To make him tread in their path lies in you;
Hee’le not forget his makers, but still prove
His thankfulnesse, as you encrease your love. 10
FINIS.
THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D’AMBOIS
EDITED BY FREDERICK S. BOAS; 1905 EDITION
CONTENTS
THE TEXT
SOURCES
THE ACTORS NAMES
ACTUS PRIMI.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
SCÆNA SECUNDA.
ACTUS SECUNDI.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
ACTUS TERTII.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
SCÆNA SECUNDA.
SCÆNA TERTIA.
SCÆNA QUARTA.
ACTUS QUARTI.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
SCÆNA SECUNDA.
SCÆNA TERTIA.
SCÆNA QUARTA.
SCÆNA QUINTA.
ACTUS QUINTI.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
SCÆNA SECUNDA.
SCÆNA TERTIA.
SCÆNA QUARTA.
SCÆNA QUINTA.
THE TEXT
The Revenge of Bussy D’Ambois was printed in quarto in 1613 by T. S. for John Helme. No reprint appeared till 1873, when it was included in the edition of Chapman’s Tragedies and Comedies published by J. Pearson. The text of the quarto was reproduced, with the original spelling and punctuation, but with a few errors. There have been two later editions in modernized spelling, and with slight emendations, by R. H. Shepherd in 1874, and W. L. Phelps in 1895.
In the present edition the text of the quarto has been reproduced, with some additional emendations, and the original spelling has been retained. As regards punctuation, the use of capital letters and italics, and the division of the Acts into Scenes, the same methods hav
e been followed as in the case of Bussy D’Ambois.
SOURCES
The story of a plot by Bussy D’Ambois’s kinsfolk to avenge his murder is, in the main, of Chapman’s own invention. But he had evidently read an account similar to that given later by De Thou of the design entertained for a time by Bussy’s sister Renée (whom Chapman calls Charlotte) and her husband, Baligny, to take vengeance on Montsurry. Clermont D’Ambois is himself a fictitious character, but the episodes in which he appears in Acts II-IV are drawn from the account of the treacherous proceedings against the Count d’Auvergne in Edward Grimeston’s translation of Jean de Serres’s Inventaire Général de l’Histoire de France. This narrative, however, is not by De Serres, but by Pierre Matthieu, whose Histoire de France was one of the sources used by Grimeston for events later than 1598.
The portraiture of Clermont throughout the play as the high-souled philosopher is inspired by Epictetus’s delineation in his Discourses of the ideal Stoic. But in his reluctance to carry out his duty of revenge he is evidently modelled upon Hamlet. In Act V, Scene i, the influence of Shakespeare’s tragedy is specially manifest.
The Scenes in Act V relating to the assassination of Guise are based upon Grimeston’s translation of De Serres’s Inventaire Général.
The passages in Grimeston’s volume which recount the Duke’s murder, and those which tell the story of the Count d’Auvergne, are reprinted as an Appendix.
The frontispiece to this volume, the Château of La Coutancière, at which Bussy D’Ambois was killed, is reproduced from an illustration in A. Joubert’s Louis de Clermont.
TO THE RIGHT
VERTUOUS, AND
truely
Noble Knight, Sr.
Thomas Howard, &c.
Sir,
Since workes of this kinde have beene lately esteemed worthy the patronage of some of our worthiest Nobles, I have made no doubt to preferre this of mine to your undoubted vertue and exceeding true noblesse, as contayning matter no lesse deserving your reading, 5 and excitation to heroycall life, then any such late dedication. Nor have the greatest Princes of Italie and other countries conceived it any least diminution to their greatnesse to have their names wing’d with these tragicke plumes, and disperst by way of patronage through the 10 most noble notices of Europe.
Howsoever, therefore, in the scænicall presentation it might meete with some maligners, yet, considering even therein it past with approbation of more worthy judgements, the ballance of their side (especially being held 15 by your impartiall hand) I hope will to no graine abide the out-weighing. And for the autenticall truth of eyther person or action, who (worth the respecting) will expect it in a poeme, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth? Poore envious soules they are that cavill at truths 20 want in these naturall fictions: materiall instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to vertue, and deflection from her contrary, being the soule, lims, and limits of an autenticall tragedie. But whatsoever merit of your full countenance and favour suffers defect in this, I shall soone 25 supply with some other of more generall account; wherein your right vertuous name made famous and preserved to posteritie, your future comfort and honour in your present acceptation and love of all vertuous and divine expression may be so much past others of your rancke encreast, as 30 they are short of your judiciall ingenuitie, in their due estimation.
For howsoever those ignoble and sowre-brow’d worldlings are carelesse of whatsoever future or present opinion spreads of them; yet (with the most divine 35 philosopher, if Scripture did not confirme it) I make it matter of my faith, that we truely retaine an intellectuall feeling of good or bad after this life, proportionably answerable to the love or neglect we beare here to all vertue and truely-humane instruction: in whose favour 40 and honour I wish you most eminent, and rest ever,
Your true vertues
most true observer,
Geo. Chapman.
THE ACTORS NAMES
Henry, the King.
Monsieur, his Brother.
Guise, D[uke].
Renel, a Marquesse.
Montsureau, an Earle.
Baligny, Lord Lieutenant [of Cambray].
Clermont D’Ambois.
Maillard. }
Challon. } Captaines.
Aumal. }
Espernone.
Soissone.
Perricot, [An Usher.]
[A Messenger.]
The Guard.
Souldiers.
Servants.
{ Bussy.
{ Monsieur.
The ghost[s] of { Guise.
{ Card. Guise.
{ Shattilion.
Countesse of Cambray.
Tamyra, wife to Montsureau.
Charlotte [D’Ambois], wife to Baligny.
Riova, a Servant [to the Countesse].
[SCENE: Paris, and in or near Cambrai.]
ACTUS PRIMI.
SCÆNA PRIMA.
A Room at the Court in Paris.]
Enter Baligny, Renel.
Baligny. To what will this declining kingdome turne,
Swindging in every license, as in this
Stupide permission of brave D’Ambois Murther?
Murther made paralell with Law! Murther us’d
To serve the kingdome, given by sute to men 5
For their advancement! suffered scarcrow-like
To fright adulterie! what will policie
At length bring under his capacitie?
Renel. All things; for as, when the high births of Kings,
Deliverances, and coronations, 10
We celebrate with all the cities bels
Jangling together in untun’d confusion,
All order’d clockes are tyed up; so, when glory,
Flatterie, and smooth applauses of things ill,
Uphold th’inordinate swindge of downe-right power, 15
Justice, and truth that tell the bounded use,
Vertuous and well distinguisht formes of time,
Are gag’d and tongue-tide. But wee have observ’d
Rule in more regular motion: things most lawfull
Were once most royall; Kings sought common good, 20
Mens manly liberties, though ne’er so meane,
And had their owne swindge so more free, and more.
But when pride enter’d them, and rule by power,
All browes that smil’d beneath them, frown’d; hearts griev’d
By imitation; vertue quite was vanisht, 25
And all men studi’d selfe-love, fraud, and vice.
Then no man could be good but he was punisht.
Tyrants, being still more fearefull of the good
Then of the bad, their subjects vertues ever
Manag’d with curbs and dangers, and esteem’d 30
As shadowes and detractions to their owne.
Bal. Now all is peace, no danger, now what followes?
Idlenesse rusts us, since no vertuous labour
Ends ought rewarded; ease, securitie,
Now all the palme weares. Wee made warre before 35
So to prevent warre; men with giving gifts,
More then receiving, made our countrey strong;
Our matchlesse race of souldiers then would spend
In publike warres, not private brawles, their spirits;
In daring enemies, arm’d with meanest armes, 40
Not courting strumpets, and consuming birth-rights
In apishnesse and envy of attire.
No labour then was harsh, no way so deepe,
No rocke so steepe, but if a bird could scale it,
Up would our youth flie to. A foe in armes 45
Stirr’d up a much more lust of his encounter
Then of a mistresse never so be-painted.
Ambition then was onely scaling walles,
And over-topping turrets; fame was wealth;
Best parts, best deedes, were best nobilitie; 50
Honour with worth, and wealth well got or none.
/>
Countries we wonne with as few men as countries:
Vertue subdu’d all.
Ren. Just: and then our nobles
Lov’d vertue so, they prais’d and us’d it to;
Had rather doe then say; their owne deedes hearing 55
By others glorified, then be so barraine
That their parts onely stood in praising others.
Bal. Who could not doe, yet prais’d, and envi’d not;
Civile behaviour flourisht; bountie flow’d;
Avarice to upland boores, slaves, hang-men banisht. 60
Ren. Tis now quite otherwise. But to note the cause
Of all these foule digressions and revolts
From our first natures, this tis in a word:
Since good arts faile, crafts and deceits are us’d:
Men ignorant are idle; idle men 65
Most practise what they most may doe with ease,
Fashion and favour; all their studies ayming
At getting money, which no wise man ever
Fed his desires with.
Bal. Yet now none are wise
That thinke not heavens true foolish, weigh’d with that. 70
Well, thou most worthy to be greatest Guise,
Make with thy greatnesse a new world arise.
Such deprest nobles (followers of his)
As you, my selfe, my lord, will finde a time
When to revenge your wrongs.
Ren. I make no doubt: 75
In meane time, I could wish the wrong were righted
Of your slaine brother in law, brave Bussy D’Ambois.
Bal. That one accident was made my charge.
My brother Bussy’s sister (now my wife)
By no suite would consent to satisfie 80
My love of her with marriage, till I vow’d
To use my utmost to revenge my brother:
But Clermont D’Ambois (Bussy’s second brother)
Had, since, his apparition, and excitement
To suffer none but his hand in his wreake; 85
Which hee hath vow’d, and so will needes acquite
Me of my vow made to my wife, his sister,
And undertake himselfe Bussy’s revenge.
Yet loathing any way to give it act,
But in the noblest and most manly course, 90
If th’Earle dares take it, he resolves to send
A challenge to him, and my selfe must beare it;
To which deliverie I can use no meanes,
He is so barricado’d in his house,
And arm’d with guard still.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 212