Bussy d'Ambois

A TRAGEDY

PROLOGUE

Not out of confidence that none but we

Are able to present this tragedy,

Nor out of envy at the grace of late

It did receive, nor yet to derogate

From their deserts, who give out boldly that
They move with equal feet on the same flat;
Neither for all, nor any of such ends,
We offer it, gracious and noble friends,
To your review; we, far from emulation
(And, charitably judge, from imitation)
With this work entertain you, a piece known,
And still believed in Court to be our own.

To quit our claim, doubting our right or merit,
Would argue in us poverty of spirit

Which we must not subscribe to: FIELD is gone,
Whose action first did give it name, and one
Who came the nearest to him, is denied

By his gray beard to show the height and pride
Of D'AMBOIS' youth and bravery; yet to hold
Our title still a-foot, and not grow cold
By giving it o'er, a third man with his best
Of care and pains defends our interest;

As RICHARD he was liked, nor do we fear

In personating D'AMBOIS he'll appear
To faint, or go less, so your free consent,
As heretofore, give him encouragement.

'ACTUS PRIMI SCENA PRIMA

[A Forest near Paris]

Enter Bussy d'Ambois, poor

Bus. Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things,
Reward goes backwards, Honour on his head;

Who is not poor, is monstrous; only Need
Gives form and worth to every human seed.
As cedars beaten with continual storms,
So great men flourish; and do imitate
Unskilful statuaries, who suppose,

In forming a Colossus, if they make him

Straddle enough, strut, and look big, and gape,
Their work is goodly: so men merely great

ΙΟ

In their affected gravity of voice,

Sourness of countenance, manners' cruelty,

Authority, wealth, and all the spawn of Fortune,

Think they bear all the kingdom's worth before them;

Yet differ not from those colossic statues,

15

Which, with heroic forms without o'er-spread,

Within are nought but mortar, flint, and lead.
Man is a torch borne in the wind; a dream

But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance;

And as great seamen, using all their wealth
And skills in Neptune's deep invisible paths,

20

In tall ships richly built and ribb'd with brass,

To put a girdle round about the world,

When they have done it, coming near their haven,
Are fain to give a warning-piece, and call
A poor, staid fisherman, that never pass'd
His country's sight, to waft and guide them in :
So when we wander furthest through the waves
Of glassy Glory, and the gulfs of State,
Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches,
As if each private arm would sphere the earth,

5

309

25

5

We must to Virtue for her guide resort,

Or we shall shipwrack in our safest port.

Procumbit

Enter Monsieur with two Pages

Mons. There is no second place in numerous state
That holds more than a cipher; in a king
All places are contain❜d. His words and looks
Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;
His deeds inimitable, like the sea

That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts
Nor prints of precedent for mean men's facts:
There's but a thread betwixt me and a crown,
I would not wish it cut, unless by nature;
Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,
'Tis good to get resolved spirits about me.
I follow'd D'Ambois to this green retreat,
A man of spirit beyond the reach of fear,
Who (discontent with his neglected worth)
Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;
But he is young and haughty, apt to take
Fire at advancement, to bear state, and flourish;
In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine :
None loathes the world so much, nor loves to scoff it,
But gold and grace will make him surfeit of it.

What, D'Ambois ?

35

40

45

50

[Approaching Bussy.]

I am no mote to play in't, as great men are.

Mons. Callest thou men great in state, motes in the sun?

They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,

That (like the gross Sicilian gourmandist)
Empty their noses in the cates they love,

60

That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring
Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee,
And thou wilt loathe lean darkness like thy death.
Who would believe thy mettle could let sloth
Rust and consume it? If Themistocles
Had liv'd obscur'd thus in th'Athenian state,
Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.

65