Enter Wife.
Wife. This Letter came this morn from my Cosin
To the great Lady, high and mighty Duchess
Of Burgundy, be these delivered. Oh,
For a stronger lace to keep my breath
That I may laugh the nine days till the wonder
Fall to an ebb: the high and mighty Duchess?
The high and mighty God? what a stile is this!
Methinks it goes like a Duchy lope-man,
A ladder of 100 rounds will fail
To reach the top on't: well my gentle Cosin
I know by these contents, your itch of honor;
You must to the Court you say, and very shortly:
You shall be welcome; and if your wife have wit
I'll put her in a thriving course, if not
Her own sin on her own head, not a blot
Shall stain my reputation, only this
I must for healths sake sometimes make an ass
Of the tame moil my Husband; 'twill do him good,
And give him fresher brains, Me fresher bloud.
Now for the noble Duke, I hear him coming.
Enter Duke, his train.
Your Grace is well return'd.
Duke. As well as may be:
Never in younger health, never more able:
I mean to be your bed-fellow this night,
Let me have good encounter.
Bew. Bless me heaven
What a hot meat this greatness is!
Long. It may be so,
For I'll be sworn he hath not got a snap
This two months on my knowledge, or her woman
Is damn'd for swearing it.
Duke. I thank you Gentlemen for your attendance
And also your great pains, pray know my Lodgings
Better and oftner, do so Gentlemen.
Now by my honor, as I am a Prince,
I speak sincerely, know my lodgings better,
And be not strangers, I shall see your service
And your deservings, when you least expect.
Om. We humbly thank your grace for this great favor.
Du. Jaques?
Jaq. Your Grace.
Du. Be ready for the Countrey,
And let my Tenants know the Kings great love:
Say I would see them, but the weight at Court
Lies heavy on my shoulders: let them know
I do expect their duties in attendance
Against the next feast, wait for my coming
To take up Post-horse, and be full of speed. [Exit Jaq.
Wife. I would desire your Grace—
Du. You shall desire, and have your
Full desire: sweet Duchess speak.
Wife. To have some conference with a Gentleman
That seems not altogether void of reason.
He talks of Titles, and things near the Crown,
And knowing none so fit as your [good] Grace,
To give the difference in such points of State—
Du. What is he? if he be noble, or have any part
That's worthy our converse, we do accept him.
Wife. I can assure your Grace, his strain is noble,
But he's very subtle.
Duke. Let him be so.
Let him have all the brains, I shall demonstrate
How this most Christian Crown of France can bear
No other shew of Title than the Kings.
I will go in and meditate for half an hour,
And then be ready for him presently,
I will convert him quickly, or confound him.
Serv. Is mad Shattillion here?
Wife. Is here, and's Lady,
I prethee servant fetch him hither.
Serv. Why, what do you mean to put him to?
Wife. To chat with the mad lad my Husband;
'Twill be brave to hear them speak, babble,
Stare, and prate.
Bew. But what shall be the end of all this, Lady?
Enter Shattillion and Lady.
Wife. Leave that to me, now for the grand dispute,
For see, here comes Shattillion: as I live, methinks
All France should bear part of his griefs.
Long. I'll fetch my Lord the Duke.
Shat. Where am I now, or whether will you lead me?
To my death? I crave my priviledge,
I must not dye, but by just course of Law.
Serv. His Majesty hath sent by me your pardon,
He meant not you should dye; but would intreat you
To lay the full state of your Title open,
Unto a grave and Noble Gentleman.
Enter Duke and Longovile.
The Duke of Burgundy who here doth come,
Who, either by his wisdom will confute you,
Or else inform and satisfie the King.
Bew. May't please your grace, this is the Gentleman.
Duke. Is this he that chops Logick with my Liege?
Shat. D'ye mock me? you are great, the time will come,
When you shall be as much contemn'd as I,
Where are the antient compliments of France,
The upstarts brave the Princes of the bloud?
Duke. Your Title Sir, in short.
Shat. He must Sir,
Be a better States-man than your self, that can
Trip me in any thing, I will not speak
Before these witnesses.
Duke. Depart the room, for none shall stay,
No, not my dearest Duchess.
Wife. We'll stand behind the Arras and hear all. [Exeunt.
Duke. In that chair take your place, I in this,
Discourse your Title now.
Shat. Sir, you shall know,
My Loves true Title, mine by Marriage,
Setting aside the first race of French Kings,
Which will not here concern us, as Pharamond,
With Clodian, [Meroveus], and Chilperick,
And to come down unto the second Race,
Which we will likewise slip—
Duke. But take me with you.
Shat. I pray you give me leave, of Martel Charles,
The Father of King Pippin, who was, Sire
To Charles the Great, and famous Charlemain.
And to come to the third Race of French Kings,
Which will not be greatly pertinent in this cause,
Betwixt the King and me, of which you know
HUGH CAPET was the first,
Next his Son Robert, Henry then, and Philip
With Lewis, and his Son a Lewis too,
And of that name the Seventh, but all this
Springs from a Female, as it shall appear.
Duke. Now give me leave, I grant you this your Title
At the first sight, carries some shew of truth;
But if ye weigh it well, ye shall find light.
Is not his Majesty possest in peace,
And justice executed in his name,
And can you think the most Christian King
Would do this if he saw not reason for it?
Shat. But had not the Tenth Lewis a sole Daughter?
Duke. I cannot tell.
Shat. But answer me directly.
Duke. It is a most seditious question.
Shat. Is this your justice?
Duke. I stand for my King.
Shat. Was ever Heir-apparant thus abus'd?
I'll have your head for this.
Duke. Why, do your worst.
Shat. Will no one stir to apprehend this Traitor?
A guard about my person, will none come?
Must my own royal hands perform the deed?
Then thus I do arrest you.
Duke. Treason, help.
Enter Wife, Long. Bew. and Serv.
Wife. Help, help, my Lord and Husband.
Duke. Help [the Duke].
Long. Forbear his grace's person.
Shat. Forbear you to touch him that
Your Heir-apparent weds,
But by this hand, I will have all your heads. [Exit.
Serv. How doth your Grace?
Duke. Why? well.
Serv. How do you find his Title?
Duke. 'Tis a dangerous one,
As can come by a female.
Serv. I, 'tis true,
But the Law Salique cuts him off from all.
Long. I do beseech your Grace, how stands his Title?
Duke. Pew, nothing; the Law Salique cuts him off from all.
Wife. My gracious Husband, you must now prepare,
In all your Graces pomp to entertain
Your Cosin, who is now a convertite,
And follows here, this night he will be here.
Duke. Be ready all in haste, I do intend,
To shew before my Cosin's wondring face,
The greatness of my pomp, and of my place. [Exeunt omnes.