John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Cit. Look you, gentlemen, sermons are not to be despised; we have all profited by godly sermons that promote sedition: let the precious man hold forth.

  Omn. Let him hold forth, let him hold forth.

  Mel. To promote sedition is my business: It has been so before any of you were born, and will be so, when you are all dead and damned; I have led on the rabble in all ages.

  Cit. That’s a lie, and a loud one.

  Cit. He has led the rabble both old and young, that’s all ages: A heavenly sweet man, I warrant him; I have seen him somewhere in a pulpit.

  Mel. I have sown rebellion every where.

  Cit. How, every where? That’s another lie: How far have you travelled, friend?

  Mel. Over all the world.

  Cit. Now, that’s a rapper.

  Cit. I say no: For, look you, gentlemen, if he has been a traveller, he certainly says true, for he may lie by authority.

  Mel. That the rabble may depose their prince, has in all times, and in all countries, been accounted lawful.

  Cit. That’s the first true syllable he has uttered: but as how, and whereby, and when, may they depose him?

  Mel. Whenever they have more power to depose, than he has to oppose; and this they may do upon the least occasion.

  Cit. Sirrah, you mince the matter; you should 084 say, we may do it upon no occasion, for the less the better.

  Mel. [Aside.] Here’s a rogue now, will out-shoot the devil in his own bow.

  Cit. Some occasion, in my mind, were not amiss: for, look you, gentlemen, if we have no occasion, then whereby we have no occasion to depose him; and therefore, either religion or liberty, I stick to those occasions; for when they are gone, good night to godliness and freedom.

  Mel. When the most are of one side, as that’s our case, we are always in the right; for they, that are in power, will ever be the judges: so that if we say white is black, poor white must lose the cause, and put on mourning; for white is but a single syllable, and we are a whole sentence. Therefore, go on boldly, and lay on resolutely for your Solemn League and Covenant; and if here be any squeamish conscience who fears to fight against the king, — though I, that have known you, citizens, these thousand years, suspect not any, — let such understand that his majesty’s politic capacity is to be distinguished from his natural; and though you murder him in one, you may preserve him in the other; and so much for this time, because the enemy is at hand.

  Cit. [Looking out.] Look you, gentlemen, ’tis Grillon, the fierce colonel; he that devours our wives, and ravishes our children.

  Cit. He looks so grum, I don’t care to have to do with him; would I were safe in my shop, behind the counter.

  Cit. And would I were under my wife’s petticoats. Look you, gentlemen.

  Mel. You, neighbour, behind your counter, yesterday paid a bill of exchange in glass louis d’ors; 085 and you, friend, that cry, look you, gentlemen, this very morning was under another woman’s petticoats, and not your wife’s.

  Cit. How the devil does he know this?

  Mel. Therefore, fight lustily for the cause of heaven, and to make even tallies for your sins; which, that you may do with a better conscience, I absolve you both, and all the rest of you: Now, go on merrily; for those, that escape, shall avoid killing; and those, who do not escape, I will provide for in another world.

  [Cry within, on the other side of the stage, Vive le Roi, vive le Roi!

  Enter Grillon, and his Party.

  Gril. Come on, fellow soldiers, Commilitones; that’s my word, as ’twas Julius Cæsar’s, of pagan memory. ‘Fore God, I am no speech maker; but there are the rogues, and here’s bilbo, that’s a word and a blow; we must either cut their throats, or they cut ours, that’s pure necessity, for your comfort: Now, if any man can be so unkind to his own body, — for I meddle not with your souls, — as to stand still like a good Christian, and offer his weasand to a butcher’s whittle, — I say no more, but that he may be saved, and that’s the best can come on him.

  [Cry on both sides, Vive le Roi, vive Guise! They fight.

  Mel. Hey, for the duke of Guise, and property! Up with religion and the cause, and down with those arbitrary rogues there! Stand to’t, you associated cuckolds. [Citizens go back.] O rogues! O cowards! — Damn these half-strained shopkeepers, got between gentlemen and city wives; how naturally they quake, and run away from their own fathers! 086 twenty souls a penny were a dear bargain of them.

  [They all run off, Melanax with them; the 1st and 2d Citizens taken.

  Gril. Possess yourselves of the place, Maubert, and hang me up those two rogues, for an example.

  Cit. O spare me, sweet colonel; I am but a young beginner, and new set up.

  Gril. I’ll be your customer, and set you up a little better, sirrah; — go, hang him at the next sign-post: — What have you to say for yourself, scoundrel? why were you a rebel?

  Cit. Look you, colonel, ’twas out of no ill meaning to the government; all that I did, was pure obedience to my wife.

  Gril. Nay, if thou hast a wife that wears the breeches, thou shalt be condemned to live: Get thee home for a hen-pecked traitor. — What, are we encompassed? Nay, then, faces this way; we’ll sell our skins to the fairest chapmen.

  Enter Aumale and Soldiers, on the one side, Citizens on the other. Grillon, and his Party, are disarmed.

  Cit. Bear away that bloody-minded colonel, and hang him up at the next sign-post: Nay, when I am in power, I can make examples too.

  Omn. Tear him piece-meal; tear him piece-meal. [Pull and haul him.

  Gril. Rogues, villains, rebels, traitors, cuckolds! ‘Swounds, what do you make of a man? do you think legs and arms are strung upon a wire, like a jointed baby? carry me off quickly, you were best, and hang me decently, according to my first sentence.

  Cit. Look you, colonel; you are too bulky to be carried off all at once; a leg or an arm is one man’s burden: give me a little finger for a sample 087 of him, whereby I’ll carry it for a token to my sovereign lady.

  Gril. ’Tis too little, in all conscience, for her; take a bigger token, cuckold. Et tu, Brute, whom I saved? O the conscience of a shopkeeper!

  Cit. Look you, colonel, for your saving of me, I thank you heartily, whereby that debt’s paid; but for speaking treason against my anointed wife, that’s a new reckoning between us.

  Enter Guise, with a General’s Staff in his Hand; Mayenne, Cardinal, Archbishop, Malicorn, and Attendants.

  Omn. Vive Guise!

  Gui. [Bowing, and bareheaded.]

  I thank you, countrymen: the hand of heaven

  In all our safeties has appeared this day.

  Stand on your guard, and double every watch,

  But stain your triumph with no Christian blood;

  French we are all, and brothers of a land.

  Card. What mean you, brother, by this godly talk,

  Of sparing Christian blood? why, these are dogs;

  Now, by the sword that cut off Malchus’ ear,

  Mere dogs, that neither can be saved nor damned.

  Arch. Where have you learnt to spare inveterate foes?

  Gui. You know the book.

  Arch. And can expound it too:

  But Christian faith was in the nonage then,

  And Roman heathens lorded o’er the world.

  What madness were it for the weak and few,

  To fight against the many and the strong?

  Grillon must die, so must the tyrant’s guards,

  Lest, gathering head again, they make more work.

  Mal. My lord, the people must be fleshed in blood,

  To teach them the true relish; dip them with you,

  Or they’ll perhaps repent.

  Gui. You are fools; to kill them, were to shew I feared them;

  The court, disarmed, disheartened and besieged,

  Are all as much within my power, as if

  I griped them in my fist.

  May. ’Tis rightly judged:

  And, let me add, who h
eads a popular cause,

  Must prosecute that cause by popular ways:

  So, whether you are merciful or no,

  You must affect to be.

  Gui. Dismiss those prisoners. — Grillon, you are free;

  I do not ask your love, be still my foe.

  Gril. I will be so: but let me tell you, Guise,

  As this was greatly done, ’twas proudly too:

  I’ll give you back your life when next we meet;

  ‘Till then I am your debtor.

  Gui. That’s till dooms-day. [Grillon and his Party exeunt one way, Rabble the other.

  Haste, brother, draw out fifteen thousand men,

  Surround the Louvre, lest the prey should ‘scape.

  I know the king will send to treat;

  We’ll set the dice on him in high demands,

  No less than all his offices of trust;

  He shall be pared, and cantoned out, and clipped

  So long, he shall not pass.

  Card. What! do we talk

  Of paring, clipping, and such tedious work,

  Like those that hang their noses o’er a potion,

  And qualm, and keck, and take it down by sips!

  Arch. Best make advantage of this popular rage,

  Let in the o’erwhelming tide on Harry’s head;

  In that promiscuous fury, who shall know,

  Among a thousand swords, who killed the king?

  Mal. O my dear lord, upon this only day

  Depends the series of your following fate:

  Think your good genius has assumed my shape,

  In this prophetic doom.

  Gui. Peace, croaking raven! —

  I’ll seize him first, then make him a led monarch;

  I’ll be declared lieutenant-general

  Amidst the three estates, that represent

  The glorious, full, majestic face of France,

  Which, in his own despite, the king shall call:

  So let him reign my tenant during life,

  His brother of Navarre shut out for ever,

  Branded with heresy, and barred from sway;

  That, when Valois consumed in ashes lies,

  The Phœnix race of Charlemain may rise.[Exeunt.

  SCENE V. — The Louvre.

  Enter King, Queen-Mother, Abbot, and Grillon.

  King. Dismissed with such contempt?

  Gril. Yes, ‘faith, we past like beaten Romans underneath the fork.

  King. Give me my arms.

  Gril. For what?

  King. I’ll lead you on.

  Gril. You are a true lion, but my men are sheep;

  If you run first, I’ll swear they’ll follow you.

  King. What, all turned cowards? not a man in France

  Dares set his foot by mine, and perish by me?

  Gril. Troth, I can’t find them much inclined to perishing.

  King. What can be left in danger, but to dare?

  No matter for my arms, I’ll go barefaced,

  And seize the first bold rebel that I meet.

  Abb. There’s something of divinity in kings,

  That sits between their eyes, and guards their life.

  Gril. True, Abbot; but the mischief is, you churchmen

  Can see that something further than the crowd;

  These musket bullets have not read much logic,

  Nor are they given to make your nice distinctions: [One enters, and gives the Queen a Note, she reads —

  One of them possibly may hit the king

  In some one part of him that’s not divine;

  And so that mortal part of his majesty would draw

  the divinity of it into another world, sweet Abbot.

  Qu. M. ’Tis equal madness to go out or stay;

  The reverence due to kings is all transferred

  To haughty Guise; and when new gods are made,

  The old must quit the temple; you must fly.

  King. Death! had I wings, yet would I scorn to fly.

  Gril. Wings, or no wings, is not the question:

  If you won’t fly for’t, you must ride for’t,

  And that comes much to one.

  King. Forsake my regal town!

  Qu. M. Forsake a bedlam;

  This note informs me fifteen thousand men

  Are marching to inclose the Louvre round.

  Abb. The business then admits no more dispute,

  You, madam, must be pleased to find the Guise;

  Seem easy, fearful, yielding, what you will;

  But still prolong the treaty all you can,

  To gain the king more time for his escape.

  Qu. M. I’ll undertake it. — Nay, no thanks, my son.

  My blessing shall be given in your deliverance;

  That once performed, their web is all unravelled,

  And Guise is to begin his work again.[Exit Q.M.

  King. I go this minute.

  Enter MARMOUTIERE.

  Nay, then another minute must be given. —

  O how I blush, that thou shouldst see thy king

  Do this low act, that lessens all his fame:

  Death, must a rebel force me from my love!

  If it must be —

  Mar. It must not, cannot be.

  Gril. No, nor shall not, wench, as long as my soul wears a body.

  King. Secure in that, I’ll trust thee; — shall I trust thee?

  For conquerors have charms, and women frailty: —

  Farewell thou mayst behold me king again;

  My soul’s not yet deposed: — why then farewell! —

  I’ll say’t as comfortably as I can:

  But O cursed Guise, for pressing on my time,

  And cutting off ten thousand more adieus!

  Mar. The moments that retard your flight are traitors.

  Make haste, my royal master, to be safe,

  And save me with you, for I’ll share your fate.

  King. Wilt thou go too?

  Then I am reconciled to heaven again:

  O welcome, thou good angel of my way,

  Thou pledge and omen of my safe return!

  Not Greece, nor hostile Juno could destroy

  The hero that abandoned burning Troy;

  He ‘scaped the dangers of the dreadful night,

  When, loaded with his gods, he took his flight. [Exuent, the King leading her.

  ACT V.

  SCENE I. — The Castle of Blois.

  Enter GRILLON, and ALPHONSO CORSO.

  Gril. Welcome, colonel, welcome to Blois.

  Alph. Since last we parted at the barricadoes,

  The world’s turned upside down.

  Gril. No, ‘faith, ’tis better now, ’tis downside up:

  Our part o’the wheel is rising, though but slowly.

  Alph. Who looked for an assembly of the States?

  Gril. When the king was escaped from Paris, and got out of the toils, ’twas time for the Guise to take them down, and pitch others: that is, to treat for the calling of a parliament, where, being sure of the major part, he might get by law what he had missed by force.

  Alph. But why should the king assemble the States, to satisfy the Guise, after so many affronts?

  Gril. For the same reason, that a man in a duel says he has received satisfaction, when he is first wounded, and afterwards disarmed.

  Alph. But why this parliament at Blois, and not at Paris?

  Gril. Because no barricadoes have been made at Blois. This Blois is a very little town, and the king can draw it after him; but Paris is a damned unwieldy bulk; and when the preachers draw against the king, a parson in a pulpit is a devilish fore-horse. Besides, I found in that insurrection what dangerous beasts these townsmen are; I tell you, colonel, a man had better deal with ten of their wives, than with one zealous citizen: O your inspired cuckold is most implacable.

  Alph. Is there any seeming kindness between the king and the duke of Guise?

  Gril. Yes, most wonderful: they are as dear to one a
nother as an old usurer, and a rich young heir upon a mortgage. The king is very loyal to the Guise, and the Guise is very gracious to the king: Then the cardinal of Guise, and the archbishop of Lyons, are the two pendants that are always hanging at the royal ear; they ease his majesty of all the spiritual business, and the Guise of all the temporal; so that the king is certainly the happiest prince in Christendom, without any care upon him; so yielding up every thing to his loyal subjects, that he’s infallibly in the way of being the greatest and most glorious king in all the world.

  Alph. Yet I have heard he made a sharp reflecting speech upon their party at the opening of the parliament, admonished men of their duties, pardoned what was past, but seemed to threaten vengeance if they persisted for the future.

  Gril. Yes; and then they all took the sacrament together: he promising to unite himself to them, and they to obey him, according to the laws; yet the very next morning they went on, in pursuance of their old commonwealth designs, as violently as ever.

  Alph. Now, I am dull enough to think they have broken their oath.

  Gril. Ay, but you are but one private man, and they are the three States; and if they vote that they have not broken their oaths, who is to be judge?

  Alph. There’s one above.

  Gril. I hope you mean in heaven; or else you are a bolder man than I am in parliament time; but here comes the master and my niece.

  Alph. Heaven preserve him! if a man may pray for him without treason.

  Gril. O yes, you may pray for him; the preachers of the Guise’s side do that most formally; nay, 095 you may be suffered civilly to drink his health; be of the court, and keep a place of profit under him: for, in short, ’tis a judged case of conscience, to make your best of the king, and to side against him.

  Enter King and Marmoutiere.

  King. Grillon, be near me,

  There’s something for my service to be done,

  Your orders will be sudden; now, withdraw.

  Gril. [Aside.] Well, I dare trust my niece, even though she comes of my own family; but if she cuckolds my good opinion of her honesty, there’s a whole sex fallen under a general rule, without one exception.

  [Exeunt Gril. and Alph.

  Mar. You bid my uncle wait you.

  King. Yes.

  Mar. This hour?

  King. I think it was.

  Mar. Something of moment hangs upon this hour.

  King. Not more on this, than on the next, and next.

  My time is all ta’en up on usury;