No More Learning

I'm clear by nature, as a rockless stream;
But they dig through the gravel of my heart,
And raise the mud of passions up to cloud me;
Therefore let me conjure you, do not go;
'Tis said, the Guise will come in spite of me;
Suppose it possible, and stay to advise me.

_Mar. _ I will; but, on your royal word, no more.

_King. _ I will be easy,
To my last gasp, as your own virgin thoughts,
And never dare to breathe my passion more;
Yet you'll allow me now and then to sigh
As we discourse, and court you with my eyes?

_Enter_ ALPHONSO.

Why do you wave your hand, and warn me hence?
So looks the poor condemned,
When justice beckons, there's no hope of pardon.
Sternly, like you, the judge the victim eyes,
And thus, like me, the wretch, despairing, dies.
[_Exit with_ ALPHONSO.

_Enter_ GRILLON.

_Gril. _ O rare, rare creature! By the power that made me,
Wer't possible we could be damned again
By some new Eve, such virtue might redeem us.
Oh I could clasp thee, but that my arms are rough,
Till all thy sweets were broke with my embraces,
And kiss thy beauties to a dissolution!

_Mar. _ Ah father, uncle, brother, all the kin,
The precious blood that's left me in the world,
Believe, dear sir, whate'er my actions seem,
I will not lose my virtue, for a throne.

_Gril. _ Why, I will carve thee out a throne myself;
I'll hew down all the kings in Christendom,
And seat thee on their necks, as high as heaven.

_Enter Abbot_ DELBENE.

_Abb. _ Colonel, your ear.

_Mar. _ By these whispering councils,
My soul presages that the Guise is coming.
If he dares come, were I a man, a king,
I'd sacrifice him in the city's sight. --
O heavens! what was't I said? Were I a man,
I know not that; but, as I am a virgin,
If I would offer thee, too lovely Guise,
It should be kneeling to the throne of mercy. --
Ha! then thou lovest, that thou art thus concerned.
Down, rising mischief, down, or I will kill thee,
Even in thy cause, and strangle new-born pity! --
Yet if he were not married! --ha, what then?
His charms prevail;--no, let the rebel die.
I faint beneath this strong oppression here;
Reason and love rend my divided soul;
Heaven be the judge, and still let virtue conquer.
Love to his tune my jarring heart would bring,
But reason over-winds, and cracks the string. [_Exit. _

_Abb. _ The king dispatches order upon order,
With positive command to stop his coming.
Yet there is notice given to the city;
Besides, Belleure brought but a half account,
How that the Guise replied, he would obey
His majesty in all; yet, if he might
Have leave to justify himself before him,
He doubted not his cause.

_Gril. _ The axe, the axe:
Rebellion's pampered to a pleurisy,
And it must bleed. [_Shout within. _

_Abb. _ Hark, what a shout was there!
I'll to the king; it may be, 'tis reported
On purpose thus.
Let there be truth or lies
In this mad fame, I'll bring you instant word. [_Exit Abbot. _

_Manet_ GRILLON: _Enter_ GUISE, CARDINAL, MAYENNE, MALICORN,
_Attendants, &c. Shouts again. _

_Gril. _ Death, and thou devil Malicorn, is that
Thy master?

_Gui. _ Yes, Grillon, 'tis the Guise;
One, that would court you for a friend.

_Gril. _ A friend!
Traitor thou mean'st, and so I bid thee welcome;
But since thou art so insolent, thy blood
Be on thy head, and fall by me unpitied. [_Exit. _

_Gui. _ The bruises of his loyalty have crazed him. [_Shouts louder. _

_Spirit within sings. _

_Malicorn, Malicorn, Malicorn, ho!
If the Guise resolves to go,
I charge, I warn thee let him know,
Perhaps his head may lie too low. _

_Gui. _ Why, Malicorn.

_Mal. _ [_Starting. _] Sir, do not see the king.

_Gui. _ I will.

_Mal. _ 'Tis dangerous.

_Gui. _ Therefore I will see him,
And so report my danger to the people.
Halt--to your judgment. --[MALICORN _makes signs of Assassination. _]
Let him, if he dare. --
But more, more, more;--why, Malicorn! --again?
I thought a look, with us, had been a language;
I'll talk my mind on any point but this
By glances;--ha! not yet? thou mak'st me blush
At thy delay; why, man, 'tis more than life,
Ambition, or a crown[12].

_Mal. _ What, Marmoutiere?

_Gui. _ Ay, there a general's heart beat like a drum!
Quick, quick! my reins, my back, and head and breast
Ache, as I'd been a horse-back forty hours.

_Mal. _ She has seen the king.

_Gui. _ I thought she might. A trick upon me; well.

_Mal. _ Passion o' both sides.

_Gui. _ His, thou meanest.

_Mal. _ On hers.
Down on her knees.

_Gui. _ And up again; no matter.

_Mal. _ Now all in tears, now smiling, sad at parting.

_Gui. _ Dissembled, for she told me this before;
'Twas all put on, that I might hear and rave.

_Mal. _ And so, to make sure work on't, by consent
Of Grillon, who is made their bawd,--

_Gui. _ Away!

_Mal. _ She's lodged at court.

_Gui. _ 'Tis false, they do belie her.

_Mal. _ But, sir, I saw the apartment.

_Gui. _ What, at court?

_Mal. _ At court, and near the king; 'tis true, by heaven:
I never play'd you foul, why should you doubt me?

_Gui. _ I would thou hadst, ere thus unmanned my heart!
Blood, battles, fire, and death! I run, I run!
With this last blow he drives me like a coward;
Nay, let me never win a field again,
If, with the thought of these irregular vapours,
The blood ha'nt burst my lips.

_Card. _ Peace, brother.

_Gui. _ By heaven, I took thee for my soul's physician,
And dost thou vomit me with this loathed peace?
'Tis contradiction: no, my peaceful brother,
I'll meet him now, though fire-armed cherubins
Should cross my way. O jealousy of love!
Greater than fame! thou eldest of the passions,
Or rather all in one, I here invoke thee,
Where'er thou'rt throned in air, in earth, or hell,
Wing me to my revenge, to blood, and ruin!

_Card. _ Have you no temper?

_Gui. _ Pray, sir, give me leave.
A moment's thought;--ha, but I sweat and tremble,
My brain runs this and that way; it will not fix
On aught but vengeance. --Malicorn, call the people. [_Shouts within. _
But hark, they shout again: I'll on and meet them;
Nay, head them to his palace, as my guards.
Yet more, on such exalted causes borne,
I'll wait him in his cabinet alone,
And look him pale; while in his courts without,
The people shout him dead with their alarms,
And make his mistress tremble in his arms. [_Exeunt. _


SCENE II.

_Enter King and Council. _ [_Shouts without. _

_King. _ What mean these shouts?

_Abb. _ I told your majesty,
The sheriffs have puffed the populace with hopes
Of their deliverer. [_Shouts again. _

_King. _ Hark! there rung a peal
Like thunder: see, Alphonso, what's the cause.

_Enter_ GRILLON.

_Gril. _ My lord, the Guise is come.

_King. _ Is't possible! ha, Grillon, said'st thou, come?

_Gril. _ Why droops the royal majesty? O sir!

_King. _ O villain, slave, wert thou my late-born heir,
Given me by heaven, even when I lay a-dying--
But peace, thou festering thought, and hide thy wound;--
Where is he?

_Gril. _ With her majesty, your mother;
She has taken chair, and he walks bowing by her,
With thirty thousand rebels at his heels.

_King. _ What's to be done? No pall upon my spirit;
But he that loves me best, and dares the most
On this nice point of empire, let him speak.

_Alph. _ I would advise you, sir, to call him in,
And kill him instantly upon the spot.

_Abb. _ I like Alphonso's counsel, short, sure work;
Cut off the head, and let the body walk.

_Enter_ QUEEN-MOTHER.

_Qu. M. _ Sir, the Guise waits.

_King. _ He enters on his fate.

_Qu. M. _ Not so,--forbear; the city is up in arms;
Nor doubt, if, in their heat, you cut him off,
That they will spare the royal majesty.
Once, sir, let me advise, and rule your fury.

_King. _ You shall: I'll see him, and I'll spare him now.

_Qu. M. _ What will you say?

_King. _ I know not;--
Colonel Grillon, call the archers in,
Double your guards, and strictly charge the Swiss
Stand to their arms, receive him as a traitor. [_Exit_ GRILLON.
My heart has set thee down, O Guise, in blood,--
Blood, mother, blood, ne'er to be blotted out.

_Qu. M. _ Yet you'll relent, when this hot fit is over.

_King. _ If I forgive him, may I ne'er be forgiven!
No, if I tamely bear such insolence,
What act of treason will the villains stop at?
Seize me, they've sworn; imprison me is the next,
Perhaps arraign me, and then doom me dead.
But ere I suffer that, fall all together,
Or rather, on their slaughtered heaps erect
My throne, and then proclaim it for example.
I'm born a monarch, which implies alone
To wield the sceptre, and depend on none. [_Exeunt[13]. _


ACT IV.

SCENE I. _--The Louvre. _

_A Chair of State placed; the King appears sitting in it; a Table by
him, on which he leans; Attendants on each Side of him; amongst the
rest,_ ABBOT, GRILLON, _and_ BELLIEURE. _The_ QUEEN-MOTHER _enters,
led by the Duke of_ GUISE, _who makes his Approach with three
Reverences to the King's Chair; after the third, the King rises, and
coming forward, speaks. _

_King. _ I sent you word, you should not come.

_Gui. _ Sir, that I came--

_King. _ Why, that you came, I see.
Once more, I sent you word, you should not come.

_Gui. _ Not come to throw myself, with all submission,
Beneath your royal feet! to put my cause
And person in the hands of sovereign justice!

_King. _ Now 'tis with all submission,--that's the preface,--
Yet still you came against my strict command;
You disobeyed me, duke, with all submission.

_Gui. _ Sir, 'twas the last necessity that drove me,
To clear myself of calumnies, and slanders,
Much urged, but never proved, against my innocence;
Yet had I known 'twas your express command,
I should not have approached.

_King. _ 'Twas as express, as words could signify;--
Stand forth, Bellieure,--it shall be proved you knew it,--
Stand forth, and to this false man's face declare
Your message, word for word.

_Bel. _ Sir, thus it was. I met him on the way,
And plain as I could speak, I gave your orders,
Just in these following words:--

_King. _ Enough, I know you told him;
But he has used me long to be contemned,
And I can still be patient, and forgive.

_Gui. _ And I can ask forgiveness, when I err;
But let my gracious master please to know
The true intent of my misconstrued faith.
Should I not come to vindicate my fame
From wrong constructions? And--

_King. _ Come, duke, you were not wronged; your conscience knows
You were not wronged; were you not plainly told,
That, if you dared to set your foot in Paris,
You should be held the cause of all commotions
That should from thence ensue? and yet you came.

_Gui. _ Sir, will you please with patience but to hear me?

_King. _ I will; and would be glad, my lord of Guise,
To clear you to myself.

_Gui. _ I had been told,
There were in agitation here at court,
Things of the highest note against religion,
Against the common properties of subjects,
And lives of honest well-affected men;
I therefore judged,--

_King. _ Then you, it seems, are judge
Betwixt the prince and people? judge for them,
And champion against me?

_Gui. _ I feared it might be represented so,
And came resolved,--

_King. _ To head the factious crowd.

_Gui. _ To clear my innocence.

_King. _ The means for that,
Had been your absence from this hot-brained town,
Where you, not I, are king! --
I feel my blood kindling within my veins;
The genius of the throne knocks at my heart:
Come what may come, he dies.

_Qu. M. _ [_Stopping the king. _] What mean you, sir?
You tremble and look pale; for heaven's sake think,
'Tis your own life you venture, if you kill him.

_King. _ Had I ten thousand lives, I'll venture all.
Give me way, madam!

_Qu. M. _ Not to your destruction.
The whole Parisian herd is at your gates;
A crowd's a name too small, they are a nation,
Numberless, armed, enraged, one soul informs them.

_King. _ And that one soul's the Guise. I'll rend it out,
And damn the rabble all at once in him.

_Gui. _ My fate is now in the balance; fool within,
I thank thee for thy foresight. [_Aside. _

_Qu. M. _ Your guards oppose them!

_King. _ Why not? a multitude's a bulky coward.

_Qu. M. _ By heaven, there are not limbs in all your guards,
For every one a morsel.

_King. _ Cæsar quelled them,
But with a look and word.

_Qu. M. _ So Galba thought.

_King. _ But Galba was not Cæsar.

_Gui. _ I must not give them time for resolution. -- [_Aside. _
My journey, sir, has discomposed my health, [_To the king. _
I humbly beg your leave, I may retire,
Till your commands recall me to your service. [_Exit[14]. _

_King. _ So, you have counselled well; the traitor's gone,
To mock the meekness of an injured king. [_To Qu. M. _
Why did not you, who gave me part of life,
Infuse my father stronger in my veins?
But when you kept me cooped within your womb,
You palled his generous blood with the dull mixture
Of your Italian food, and milked slow arts
Of womanish tameness in my infant mouth.
Why stood I stupid else, and missed a blow,
Which heaven and daring folly made so fair?

_Qu. M. _ I still maintain, 'twas wisely done to spare him.

_Gril. _ A pox on this unseasonable wisdom!
He was a fool to come; if so, then they,
Who let him go, were somewhat.

_King. _ The event, the event will shew us what we were;
For, like a blazing meteor hence he shot,
And drew a sweeping fiery train along. --
O Paris, Paris, once my seat of triumph,
But now the scene of all thy king's misfortunes;
Ungrateful, perjured, and disloyal town,
Which by my royal presence I have warmed
So long, that now the serpent hisses out,
And shakes his forked tongue at majesty,
While I--

_Qu. M. _ While you lose time in idle talk,
And use no means for safety and prevention.

_King. _ What can I do? O mother, Abbot, Grillon!
All dumb! nay, then 'tis plain, my cause is desperate.
Such an overwhelming ill makes grief a fool,
As if redress were past.

_Gril. _ I'll go to the next sheriff,
And beg the first reversion of a rope:
Dispatch is all my business; I'll hang for you.

_Abb. _ 'Tis not so bad, as vainly you surmise;
Some space there is, some little space, some steps
Betwixt our fate and us: our foes are powerful,
But yet not armed, nor marshalled into order;
Believe it, sir, the Guise will not attempt,
Till he have rolled his snow-ball to a heap.

_King. _ So then, my lord, we're a day off from death:
What shall to-morrow do?

_Abb. _ To-morrow, sir,
If hours between slide not too idly by,
You may be master of their destiny,
Who now dispose so loftily of yours.
Not far without the suburbs there are quartered
Three thousand Swiss, and two French regiments.

_King. _ Would they were here, and I were at their head!

_Qu. M. _ Send Mareschal Byron to lead them up.

_King. _ It shall be so: by heaven there's life in this!
The wrack of clouds is driving on the winds,
And shews a break of sunshine--
Go Grillon, give my orders to Byron,
And see your soldiers well disposed within,
For safeguard of the Louvre.

_Qu. M. _ One thing more:
The Guise (his business yet not fully ripe,)
Will treat, at least, for shew of loyalty;
Let him be met with the same arts he brings.

_King. _ I know, he'll make exorbitant demands,
But here your part of me will come in play;
The Italian soul shall teach me how to sooth:
Even Jove must flatter with an empty hand,
'Tis time to thunder, when he gripes the brand. [_Exeunt. _


SCENE _II. --A Night Scene. _

_Enter_ MALICORN _solus. _

_Mal. _ Thus far the cause of God; but God's or devil's,--
I mean my master's cause, and mine,--succeed,
What shall the Guise do next? [_A flash of lightning. _

_Enter the spirit_ MELANAX.

_Mel. _ First seize the king, and after murder him.

_Mal. _ Officious fiend, thou comest uncalled to-night.

_Mel. _ Always uncalled, and still at hand for mischief.

_Mal. _ But why in this fanatic habit, devil?
Thou look'st like one that preaches to the crowd;
Gospel is in thy face, and outward garb,
And treason on thy tongue.

_Mel. _ Thou hast me right:
Ten thousand devils more are in this habit;
Saintship and zeal are still our best disguise:
We mix unknown with the hot thoughtless crowd,
And quoting scriptures, (which too well we know,)
With impious glosses ban the holy text,
And make it speak rebellion, schism, and murder;
So turn the arms of heaven against itself.

_Mal. _ What makes the curate of St. Eustace here?

_Mel. _ Thou art mistaken, master; 'tis not he,
But 'tis a zealous, godly, canting devil,
Who has assumed the churchman's lucky shape,
To talk the crowd to madness and rebellion.

_Mal. _ O true enthusiastic devil, true,--
(For lying is thy nature, even to me,)
Did'st thou not tell me, if my lord, the Guise,
Entered the court, his head should then lie low?
That was a lie; he went, and is returned.

_Mel. _ 'Tis false; I said, _perhaps_ it should lie low;
And, but I chilled the blood in Henry's veins,
And crammed a thousand ghastly, frightful thoughts,
Nay, thrust them foremost in his labouring brain,
Even so it would have been.

_Mal. _ Thou hast deserved me,
And I am thine, dear devil: what do we next?

_Mel. _ I said, first seize the king.

_Mal. _ Suppose it done:
He's clapt within a convent, shorn a saint,
My master mounts the throne.

_Mel. _ Not so fast, Malicorn;
Thy master mounts not, till the king be slain.

_Mal. _ Not when deposed?

_Mel. _ He cannot be deposed:
He may be killed, a violent fate attends him;
But at his birth there shone a regal star.

_Mal. _ My master had a stronger.

_Mel. _ No, not a stronger, but more popular.
Their births were full opposed, the Guise now strongest
But if the ill influence pass o'er Harry's head,
As in a year it will, France ne'er shall boast
A greater king than he; now cut him off,
While yet his stars are weak.

_Mal. _ Thou talk'st of stars:
Can'st thou not see more deep into events,
And by a surer way?

_Mel. _ No, Malicorn;
The ways of heaven are broken since our fall,
Gulph beyond gulph, and never to be shot.
Once we could read our mighty Maker's mind,
As in a crystal mirror, see the ideas
Of things that always are, as he is always;
Now, shut below in this dark sphere,
By second causes dimly we may guess,
And peep far off on heaven's revolving orbs,
Which cast obscure reflections from the throne.

_Mal. _ Then tell me thy surmises of the future.

_Mel. _ I took the revolution of the year,
Just when the Sun was entering in the Ham:
The ascending Scorpion poisoned all the sky,
A sign of deep deceit and treachery.
Full on his cusp his angry master sate,
Conjoined with Saturn, baleful both to man:
Of secret slaughters, empires overturned,
Strife, blood, and massacres, expect to hear,
And all the events of an ill-omened year.

_Mal. _ Then flourish hell, and mighty mischief reign!
Mischief, to some, to others must be good.
But hark! for now, though 'tis the dead of night,
When silence broods upon our darkened world,
Methinks I hear a murmuring hollow sound,
Like the deaf chimes of bells in steeples touched.

_Mel. _ It is truly guessed;
But know, 'tis from no nightly sexton's hand.
There's not a damned ghost, nor hell-born fiend,
That can from limbo 'scape, but hither flies;
With leathern wings they beat the dusky skies,
To sacred churches all in swarms repair;
Some crowd the spires, but most the hallowed bells, }
And softly toll for souls departing knells: }
Each chime, thou hear'st, a future death foretells, }
Now there they perch to have them in their eyes,
'Till all go loaded to the nether skies[15].

_Mal. _ To-morrow then.