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diff --git a/old/62173-0.txt b/old/62173-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5ec2d3f..0000000 --- a/old/62173-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8212 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Mordred and Hildebrand, by William Wilfred Campbell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Mordred and Hildebrand - A Book of Tragedies - -Author: William Wilfred Campbell - -Release Date: May 18, 2020 [EBook #62173] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORDRED AND HILDEBRAND *** - - - - -Produced by Ian Crann and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - - MORDRED - - ..and.. - - HILDEBRAND. - - - A BOOK OF TRAGEDIES - - - BY - WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL, - (Author of “The Dread Voyage,” “Lake Lyrics.”) - - - OTTAWA: - J. DURIE & SON - 1895. - - - - - TO MY FRIENDS. - THE HONOURABLE J. C. PATTERSON, - --AND-- - THE HONOURABLE A. R. DICKEY, - THIS BOOK OF TRAGEDIES - IS DEDICATED. - - - - - _Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada in the - year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five, by William Wilfred - Campbell, Ottawa, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture, at - Ottawa._ - - - - - PRINTED BY - PAYNTER & ABBOTT, - 48 RIDEAU ST. - - - - - MORDRED. - - - A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. - - - FOUNDED ON THE ARTHURIAN LEGEND - OF - SIR THOMAS MALORY. - - - - - (This Drama was written in July and August, 1893.) - - - - - _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._ - - - ARTHUR, _King of Britain_. - MORDRED, _Illegitimate Son of Arthur_. - SIR LAUNCELOT. - MERLIN. - SIR GWAINE. - KING LEODEGRANCE, _Father to Guinevere_. - SIR AGRAVAINE. - SIR MADOR. - SIR BEDIVERE. - DAGONET, _the king’s jester_. - A HERMIT. - GUINEVERE, _Queen of Britain_. - VIVIEN. - ELAINE, _a maiden who loves Launcelot_. - UNID, _a lady in waiting on the Queen_. - - Knights, gentlemen, ladies, soldiers, herdsmen, messengers and pages. - - - - - MORDRED. - - - - - ACT. I. - - - SCENE I.--_A Hermitage in the Woods._ - - _Enter_ ARTHUR, LAUNCELOT _and other_ Knights. - - _Launcelot._ Here is a place of prayer, we will alight, - And rest a space and think us of our sins. - - _Arthur._ Launcelot, and were I shrived and clean - Half hell itself were loosened of its pains. - - _Launcelot._ Arthur, friend and lover of my youth, - Could’st thou but throw this black mood from thee now, - And get a sweeter hope into thy soul, - Drive out the horrid phantoms of the past, - And it were hope for Britain. Well thou knowest - Men look to thee to succor this poor land - Enrent by inward brawls and foreign hordes, - Whose fields untilled, and vanished the smoke of homes. - It hath been said that thou would’st raise once more - Out of these ruins a kingdom whose great fame - Would ring for ages down the days of earth, - And be a glory in men’s hearts forever. - [_Passes to the left._ - - _Arthur._ Launcelot, well know I thy love for Arthur. - ’Tis thy sweet, manly kinship of the heart, - Opening thy spirit’s windows toward the sun, - Hath made my dark days lighter. Would that I - Had kept me holy, innocent as thee. - I might in kinder fate have made this land - A place where holiness and peace might dwell, - And such a white and lofty honor held - Before men’s eyes, that all the world would come - And worship manhood’s beauty freed from sin. - Such dreams have haunted me from my first youth, - In fitful slumbers or long marching hours. - These lonesome lofty vigils of the heart - Have made men deem me colder. ’Tis my sin! - Oh Launcelot I am blacker than thou knowest! - [_Exit_ LAUNCELOT. - - _Enter_ HERMIT. - - _Hermit._ And comest thou, my son, for Church’s grace? - - _Arthur._ I come here, Father, for to have me shrived. - [_Kneels._ - - _Hermit._ Then thou art shriven, such a noble face - Could never harbor evil in its grace. - [_Lifts his hands in blessing._ - - _Arthur._ Stay holy Hermit, fair trees rot at heart, - And I am evil if this world holds ill. - I would lay bare my soul of its foul sin, - And if there be white shrift for such as me - In Heaven’s mercy, I would crave it now; - Though little of hope have I, if thou dost hear. - - _Hermit._ Wouldst thou confess, my son, the church hath power - To white the blackest sinner crawling foul - From earth’s most sensuous cesspool, doth he but - Come in the earnest sorrow of his heart - And lay his sins within her holy keeping. - But well I know that thou art that great Arthur, - The hope of all for succor to this realm:-- - For other man hath never worn such grace - And nobleness of bearing as thou wearest. - Fear not my son, whatever be the sin - Of thy hot youth, the past will be forgiven, - And holy Church will freely pardon one - And all the evil deeds that thou hast done. - - _Arthur._ Father, my life is haunted with one thought - That comes between me and my sweetest hopes. - In battle’s clamor only will it pass, - But in my lonelier moments it comes in;-- - The awful memory of one heinous sin. - - _Hermit._ Of truth thou hast suffered over much, my son. - What is thy sin? - - _Arthur._ One deed beyond all others of my youth. - Mad passionate and wild to savagery, - I violated a maid’s sanctuary, - And afterwards, I found,--O Christ forgive me! - - _Hermit._ Say on! - - _Arthur._ She was my sister! - - _Hermit._ Sancta Maria--Ora pro nobis! - - _Arthur._ It will not out. The evil of that night - When I, unknowing, did that awful deed, - Hath blackened all my future like a web. - And when men look up to me as their sun, - It makes my life seem like some whited tower, - Where all is foul and hideous hid within. - - _Hermit._ Thou sayest truth, my son, thy sin be heavy. - [_Crossing himself._ - - _Arthur._ Oh swart, incestuous night whose bat-like wings - O’er-spread my life like thunder-gathering cloud, - When will thy dawn break glimmering on my soul? - Or wilt thou drag thy weary length along - And spell thy moments out in hopeless years - Until thy black o’er-laps the black of death - In that dread journeying where all men go, - When all my dreams are spent and smouldered down - Like some far ruined sunset at life’s ebb, - And hope deferred fades out in endless sleep? - O holy man forgive mine impious presence, - Thy blessed office naught availeth me. - - _Hermit._ Nay son grieve not as one who hath no hope. - Though awsome be this youthful sin of thine, - Whose memory blurs thy loftier, holier dreams, - Let not this one sin lead thee to blaspheme - Thus ignorantly holy Church’s power. - Thy very sorrow half absolveth thee. - In name of Him who blessed the dying thief, - I bid thee look no longer at thy past. - Which eateth like some canker at thy heart, - Redeem thy past in deeds of future good; - Deem’st thy high dreams were given thee for nought? - There is a noble doom about thy face, - A writing writ of God that telleth me - That thou art not a common ordered man, - But one ordained as holy ones of old - For some great lofty cause. Lift up thy heart, - Earth hath a need of thee, thy people call, - Wrongs long unrighted, evils long unplucked, - All cry to thee for judgment. Palsy not - The strength of thy great future brooding on - An indiscretion of thy savage past. - - _Arthur._ And is it of God, Oh! Father, thinkest thou? - - _Hermit._ Yea my son; - As are all hope and sunshine. What is life-- - But spring unmindful of bleak winter-time, - Joying in living, mindless of old death; - Youth dead to sorrow, age to coming night. - Look up, forget thine evil, drink new faith - From this glad parable of the awakening year. - The church’s arms are round thee, build new hope - In this poor Kingdom as the quickening year - Hath made this wrinkled earth forget old sorrows; - Be this but thine to do, and thou art pardoned. - - _Arthur._ Oh! blessed be thy counsel, even now - I feel new joys run riot in my heart. - Old hopes long faded built on my high dreams! - The old dread sorrow lightens, it is gone, - And I go forth a shrived soul even now. - Yea, hear me Father, now I consecrate - This my poor life to this great kingdom’s weal, - And be my God but with me, I will raise - This head of sorrows out of clouds of ill, - And build a splendor of my chastened will. - Thy blessing Father! - - _Hermit._ (_Raises his hand in blessing._) Go forth from hence - Great Arthur keeper of thy people’s peace. - Go forth to right all wrong and guard all right, - In home and mart, in castle and in cot, - Meting the same to high and lowly lot. - Go forth in name of God to build a realm - Built up on chastity and noble deeds, - Where womanhood is gentle and austere, - And manhood strong in its great innocence. - Go, blessed of God and all thy fellow men, - Go in the strength of thy most high resolve, - Thou wondrous soul unto thy wondrous work, - The glory of all the after days to be. - - _Arthur._ Amen! Amen!! - - - SCENE II.--CAMELOT. (_Arthur crowned king._) - - _Enter_ MERLIN and MORDRED, _a hunchback, the King’s illegitimate son. - Outside a great clamor of voices is heard of_ “Arthur! Long live - King Arthur.” - - _Merlin._ Now tarry here aside while I prepare - The king for this thy filial audience. - - _Mordred._ O mighty Merlin, I fear me all thine arts - That compass ocean, air, and deepest mine, - And have command of subtlest sciences, - Have never found the power to brew a charm, - A Sovereign draught of distillation rare, - To warm a Father’s heart toward such as me. - - _Merlin._ Thou much mistakest Mordred, he is noble. - This too-long thought on thine infirmity, - Hath made thy mind, which is as clear as glass, - Ensickly all things that it looks upon. - When Arthur, thy great father, knows his son, - His nobleness of heart will plead with him, - And when he sees what I have seen in thee, - A subtle greatness of the inner spirit, - Greater than even I, wise Merlin, have, - That prophesies a power for good or ill - Such as is rare mid men in this our age, - He will forget that outward lack of mould - In the strong, god-like, nobleness within. - - _Mordred._ Ah Merlin, would my spirit thou wert right, - And I would show him such a son’s true love, - And consecrate this subtlety within me, - To build a fence of safety round his glory. - But something tells me, some weird, evil doom, - That sits about my heart by day and night, - An awful presence that will never flit, - That he will never love me, yea, that more, - Of all things hateful to him on this earth, - My presence the most hateful. Oh great Mage, - I know that thou art skilful in thine age, - And subtle in all knowledges of lore, - But there lies in recesses of the heart, - That hath known bitter sorrow such as mine, - A deeper wisdom intuition breeds, - That thou hast never sounded in thy lore. - - _Merlin._ Hast thou ever seen this presence whereof thou speakest? - - _Mordred._ Yea, only as a look that haunteth faces. - - _Merlin._ Faces? - - _Mordred._ I never saw it in my poor dog’s face, - When he hath climbed my knees to lick my hand. - I never saw it in the mirrored peace - That brims the beauty of a forest pool;-- - Nor in the wise regard of mighty nature. - But in the face of man I oft have seen it. - - _Merlin._ What hast thou seen, this wisdom would I know? - - _Mordred._ I never saw it in thy look, O Mage, - But something sweeter, much akin, called pity, - But once I woke a flower-eyed little maid, - Who slumbered ’mid the daisies by a stream; - She seemed the summer day incarnate there - With her sweet, innocent, unconscious face, - So like a flower herself amid the flowers; - And I were lonely there in all that vast, - And thinking, (’twas only but a boy’s light thought, - With some deep, other thought beyond mine age,) - To wake this human summer-morn to life, - And know this June-day conscious of its joy: - But when I bent and touched her on the arm, - I only woke a living terror there - Of eyes and limbs that fled from my amaze. - I saw it once within the Priestman’s face - The only and the last time I was shriven. - I have no need for shriving priestmen since. - My spirit tells me if they hold no power - To conjure out that devil in themselves, - That darting horror that offends mine eyes, - They ne’er can cast the devils from this life, - And all their vaunts but jugglers’ juggling lies. - - _Merlin._ Oh sad, warped youth, aged before thy time, - With that worst, saddest of wisdoms on this earth, - The knowledge of thine own deformity! - [_Trumpets without._ - Back Mordred! here cometh the king! - - _Enter_ ARTHUR _in his state robes_. - - _Arthur._ And now wise Merlin, wisest of this earth, - Here cometh thine Arthur decked in his first glory, - So great hath been the splendor of this day - That all my heart brims with the wine of it. - - _Merlin._ Yea King, thy horn of glory doth enlarge, - Thy sun of splendor toppeth the future’s marge, - May all bright auspices attend its setting. - - _Arthur._ And now wise Mage, what hath thy will with me? - I am thine Arthur even being King, - For thou hast made me, next to that weird fate - That sat about the mystery of my getting, - And the sweet fostership of Holy Church, - Which hath forgiven my great youthful sin - And set her seal of favor on my deeds. - All present splendors thou hast prophesied, - And made the people take me for their king, - Hast pointed out my fitness for this office, - And lifted Arthur from a cloud of sorrows - Unto the golden glories of a throne. - To-day the fealty of an hundred Earls - Which thou hast garnered to my new-made kingdom - Hath honored me and made me thrice a King. - Yea, well say Merlin that my horn is full - To plenty with the blessed hopes of earth, - And all of this I owe unto thy favor. - My thunder-clouds are past, my future clear - As yon, blue summer sky. No evil lurks - In secret for to strike at this my glory, - Unless a bolt fell from yon dazzling blue! - [_Thunder heard in the distance_--ARTHUR _staggers back_ - A portent! A portent! - - _Merlin._ ’Tis nought, O King, but gathering thunderheads - About the thick, close heatings of the west, - The muttered portent of a summer shower. - ’Tis but a blackness that will quickly pass - And leave a blessing on the fields and woods. - Fear not such signs as nature’s seeming anger. - I come to thee upon a graver matter. - - _Arthur._ Yea Merlin! speak on. - - _Merlin._ Arthur, I speak now to no puling youth, - No mere sin-pricked conscience in a human form, - But bring a kingly matter to a king, - Whereof that he may do the kingliest deed - That he may hap on in the unknown lease - Of all his kingship. I have kept this matter, - The deepest and the dreadest concerning thee - And all the workings of thy coming fate, - Until the hour when thou didst feel thee king - In more than seeming outward human choice, - And thou wert at thy greatest, even that I, - In all his power, might see the King I made, - Not in all the glory of his court, - His people’s laudings sounding in his ears, - Not in all the shout of battle victory; - But in that dread and secret solemn hour, - When some strange doom uplifts its sombre face, - And man must show his kingship of himself. - - _Arthur._ Yea Merlin! say on Merlin, say on! - - _Merlin._ For this same reason I have hid till now - The secret from thee that thou hast a son. - - _Arthur._ A son! - - _Merlin._ Yea, a son, by thine own sister. - - _Arthur._ Oh cruel! Oh cruel! Oh cruel! - - _Merlin._ Yea more, for knowing all the warm desire - That thou hast unto things of beauteous shape, - And lovest chiefly what is glad and fair - To look upon in nature or human form, - Which showest in thy love for Launcelot,-- - - _Arthur._ Yea, Launcelot! Would a Launcelot were my son. - - _Mordred._ (_aside_) Ah, me! - - _Merlin._ But knowing further that a deeper feeling, - That holdeth rule in every human heart, - That knoweth greatness, would uppermost in thee, - At knowledge of the fate of thy poor son, - Who madeth not himself but bore thy sin - In outward simile in his whole life’s being, - As Christ did bear men’s sins upon the tree; - Who knowing all the ill that thou had’st done him, - Still had sufficient sense of inward greatness - To love the father who begat him thus; - I feel if thou art that great Arthur dreamed - Of me these many years of toil and care - That I have worked to make thee what thou art; - That knowing this son of thine, distorted, wry, - Diminutive in outward human shape, - And void of all those graces thou hast loved - To group about thy visions of thy court, - Hath such a soul within him like a jewel - In some enchanted casket, that were rare - In all the lore and wisdom of this age, - That thou wouldst love him only all the more - For that poor, wry, misshapen shell of his. - - _Arthur._ Oh cruel! cruel! cruel! - - _Merlin._ Mordred come forth. - - [_Enter_ MORDRED _who kneels and tries to - cover himself with his cloak_. - - _Arthur._ (_Starts._) What be this? - - _Merlin._ Thy son Mordred, the heir to thy realm! - - _Arthur._ Oh black angered Heaven! (_Falls heavily to the ground._) - - _Mordred._ Father! my father! Merlin thou has killed my father. - Oh Merlin thou wert over-cruel! - - _Merlin._ Better that he were dead a thousand deaths - Than this had happened. He is not a king - In more than vulgar fancy. In mine eyes - With all thy wry, distorted body there, - Thou art a thousand times more kingly now - Than he or any like him in this realm. - And thou wilt be a king yet ere thou diest. - Oh Arthur, thou great Arthur of my dreams, - Why didst thou thus unthrone thee, showing bare - A thing of clay, where all seemed whitest marble? - - _Mordred._ Ha! now he revives. Father! - - _Arthur._ (_Rises and staggers._) Ha! yea, yea, that cloud; that - cloud about mine eyes! - My crown! My crown! Methought I had a crown! - - _Merlin._ Yea of a truth thou hadst one. - - _Arthur._ And where be it, good father? - - _Merlin._ Stumbling on sudden to the precipice of a golden - opportunity, - Thou loosedst thy kingship and straightway it toppled over. - - _Arthur._ And might we not make search, Father? - Might we not take lights, lights, and go find it? - - _Merlin._ Not all the lights that light this glowing world - Might light thee to it. - - _Arthur._ And who art thou that mocketh at me thus? - - _Merlin._ A shadow. - - _Arthur._ And what be I? - - _Merlin._ In truth a shadow. - - _Arthur._ And that, that blackness? - -[_Pointing at_ MORDRED. - - _Merlin._ A shadow also, yea we all be shadows. - - _Arthur._ And is there nothing real, nothing tangible in all this - mist? - - _Merlin._ Nay, nothing, save the visions we have lost, - The autumn mornings with their frosty prime, - The dreams of youth like bells at eventime - Ringing their golden longings down the mist. - - _Arthur._ And be we dead, Father? - - _Merlin._ Yea, I am dead to one great hope I had, - And thou art dead to what thou mightst have been, - And he is dead to what is best of all, - The holiest blossom on life’s golden tree. - - _Arthur._ And what be that, Father? - - _Merlin._ Love! Love! - - _Arthur._ Then he be greatest? - - _Merlin._ Yea greater, far, though we completed greatness, - Than either thou or I could ever be. - - _Arthur._ Then what be he? - - _Merlin._ He is that rare great blossom of this life - Which mortals call a man. - - _Arthur._ A man! - - _Merlin._ Yea, a man. - - _Arthur._ Why he is wry, distorted, short of shape, - Like some poor twisted root in human form. - And I am tall and fair, placed like a king. - And yet you make him greater, how be that? - - _Merlin._ Didst thou but own Goliath’s mighty shape, - And wert a Balder in thy face and form, - With all of heaven’s lightnings in thy gaze, - Still would his greatness dwarf thee. - - _Arthur._ Then what be I? - - _Merlin._ The wreck of my poor hopes. - - _Arthur._ The what? - - _Merlin._ The shadow of a king. - - _Arthur._ And where may be the king, if I be but the shadow? - - _Merlin._ Gone! Gone! - He went out in his glory one bright morn, - In all the summer splendors long ago, - And there by well-heads of my youth’s bright dreams, - Be-like he’s walking yet. - - _Mordred._ Oh! Merlin wake him! Thou art over cruel - To play thus on his fancy with thine arts. - - _Merlin._ And dost thou love him still? - - _Mordred._ Yea, love is not a thing so lightly placed, - That it may perish easy. Thou mayst kill - The king in him, thou canst not kill the father. - Though thou mightst make me bitter to conspire - And topple his great kingdom round his head, - Yet I would ever love him ’neath it all. - The Arthur of thine ambitions may be dead, - But not the Arthur of my childhood’s longing, - Though this poor King who hunteth his lost crown - Be but the walking shape of all those dreams. - And temptest thou me, thou Merlin, thus to hate? - - _Merlin._ Yea, Mordred, I am cruel, I am fate. - I tempt thee but to live, and dost thou live, - Enalienate from all this love of earth, - And they but crumble this phantom round their heads. - Thou art the key by which I may unlock - The lock that I have made with mine own hands. - And if thou ever want’st an instrument, - A dagger wherewith to stab this paltry realm, - Use Vivien. - - _Mordred._ Vivien! - - _Merlin._ Yea Vivien. There is naught on all this earth - That cuts so sharp the thews of love and hate - And those poor brittle thongs that bind men up - In that strange bundle called society, - Like the sharp acids nature hath distilled - From out the foiled hates of an evil woman. - - (_To the king._) Ho! ho! Arthur! Great King - Arthur. Knowest thou me, Merlin? - - _Arthur._ Yea, Merlin it is thou, and I the King, - Waking it seemeth from an evil dream. - - _Merlin._ Yea, king we have all awakened. - - _Arthur._ Ha! where is my crown? - - _Mordred._ You dropped it when you fainted sire, - [_Kneels and presents it._ - Here is thy crown, Father. - - _Arthur._ Father! yea all, I know all now. It cometh back. - And this my son? Oh Merlin, had I known - That thou didst hate me and wouldst use me thus! - - _Merlin._ I hate thee not, King Arthur, nor do I love. - I loved an Arthur once, a phantom king, - Whom I did build on pinnacles of glory. - But he hath now long vanished, and I go, - Like many another who hath wrecked his hopes - On some false shore of human delusiveness, - To bury my pinch-beck jewels in that pit - That men call black oblivion. No, proud Arthur, - I am much over old for loves or hates, - My days are past, my mission done on earth, - I leave thee one here though, whose love or hate - Is more to thee than mine could ever be. - Twixt thee and him there are such subtle webs - Of destiny, it needeth no magician - To prophesy the running of those threads - That weave the warp of your two destinies. - Farewell Arthur! Mordred, fare thee well. - - _Arthur._ Stay, Stay, Merlin! I have much need of thee. - [_Exit_ MERLIN. - - - SCENE III. - - _Enter_ DAGONET _the King’s fool_. - - _Dagonet._ Meseems this King is like an April week. - But yestermorn he was all smiles and sun, - And now he skulks and prowls and scowls and mopes, - As though existence were all a draggled pond - In dirty weather. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN. - - _Vivien._ And thou fool, but a wry toad on its edge. - - _Dagonet._ And thou the snake’s head lifted in the sedge, - Aye, sweet Vivien. - - _Vivien._ Why snakest thou me fool? Methought that thou favoredst - me? - - _Dagonet._ Aye, so I do. Thou coilest round my heart, - The sweetest, wisest serpent in this world. - Thou charmest me with those dazzling eyes o’ thine. - And though the blessed bread were yet in mouth, - I’d go to Hell to do a deed for thee. - And yet thou art a snake, as well thou knowest. - Is it not so, sweet Vivien? - - _Vivien._ Can’st thou be wise for once Dagonet? - Yea let me teach thee. - - _Dagonet._ And what is it to be wise? - - _Vivien._ To leave aside that mummer’s lightsome talk, - And show a front of silent dignity. - - _Dagonet._ Like the King? - - _Vivien._ Aye, like the King. - - _Dagonet._ Then to be wise is to be like the king, - To be a cup of summer wine to-day, - Anon a dish of lonesome woe to-morrow. - I love not much this wisdom thou dost teach, - These high come-ups and downs they like me not. - I am too much a fool to learn thy lesson. (_Sings._) - - And who’d be wise - And full of sighs, - And care and evil borrow; - When to be a fool - Is to go to school - To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow? - - Who’d tread the road, - And feel the goad, - And bear the sweatsome burden: - When loves are light, - And paths are bright - Of folly’s pleasant guerdon? - - Sigh while we may, - We cannot stay - The sun, nor hold its shining. - So joy the nonce, - We live but once, - And die for all our pining. - - Who’d be a king - And wear a ring - And age his youth with sorrow; - When to be a fool - Is to go to school - To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow? - - _Vivien._ Aye Dagonet, thou art indeed a happy fool. - Wilt thou shew me how to make love? - - _Dagonet._ (_Kneels in mock humility_) Sweet Vivien, I am thy - knight. - - _Vivien._ Is it all thou canst say? - - _Dagonet._ What would’st thou have more? - - _Vivien._ Oh lover’s talk. - - _Dagonet._ Thou meanest as lovers speak? - - _Vivien._ Yea. - - _Dagonet._ After wedding or afore, sweet Vivien? - - _Vivien._ Afore, of course, stupid fool. - - _Dagonet._ (_Folds his hands and recites solemnly._) - - Butter frups and mumble rings, - Whirligigs and winter-greens, - Turnip-tops and other things, I love thee! - Spindle-spouts and turtles’ eggs, - Mutton-chops and milk-stools’ legs, - Heigh ho! I love thee! - - _Vivien._ And now thou art the fool in earnest. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, and the better lover. - - _Vivien._ And what after wedding, thou wise fool? - - _Dagonet._ What saith the pot to the egg that is boiled therein, - The floor to the mop that hath scrubbed it, - The rain to the moist earth, - And the bird’s nest to the empty shell? - Learn, and thou shalt find it. - - _Vivien._ And had’st thou never a lover’s longing, Fool? - - _Dagonet._ Yea, but I cured me. - - _Vivien._ Wilt thou give me that receipt, Dagonet? - - _Dagonet._ I filled my mouth wi’ honey, and my couch wi’ prickles, - And went asleep on’t. - - (_Vivien laughs and retires behind the curtain._) - - _Dagonet._ Yea woe is me, is me, poor Dagonet! - I hate myself and yet I fain must smile - And play the thistle-down and dandy-puff, - The foolish froth at edge of flagonets; - And all the while see me a tortured torrent - Winding down in the darks of its own sorrow. - Yea, Dagonet, thou art too much of fool, - Like the great King and all other fools, - To be the thistle-down thou fain wouldst seem. - For thou art also anchored by the heels - To some sore, eating iron of thy desire. - - _Enter_ KING ARTHUR. - - _Arthur._ Well fool, what mummeries now? - - _Dagonet._ I be holding a black Friday service, Sir King. - - _Arthur._ And what sayest thou in thy supplications? - - _Dagonet._ I think on thee Sir King, and I think on poor Dagonet. - And I say, Lord have mercy upon us! - - _Arthur._ A pious wish, Sir fool, but why pitiest thou me? - - _Dagonet._ For thy poverty, Sire? - - _Arthur._ Why poverty, fool? - - _Dagonet._ Yea King, thou hast a crown, thou hast wealth, - And power and lands, and yet thou lackest - The cheapest commodity i’ the whole world. - - _Arthur._ And what be that, fool? - - _Dagonet._ (_Going out._) Sunshine, Sir King, that be the cheapest - commodity. - - _Enter_ LAUNCELOT. - - _Launcelot._ Sire! - - _Arthur._ Launcelot sit here and let’s forget - That I am king and thou the greatest knight - In this most mighty realm. Let us deem - Me but the Arthur of old days, and thou - The sunny Launcelot who was fain to shrive - His sorrowful Arthur from his darker moods, - And make a glow about the future’s countenance. - - _Launcelot._ Yea King, but methought thou sentest for me with most - urgent commands. - - _Arthur._ Yea, most urgent. - - _Launcelot._ The knights and men-at-arms await below, - And all the splendid cortege thou hast ordered, - With retinue befitting thy commands. - God’s benison go with thee, great Arthur, - This most auspicious day thou goest forth - To meet the high and beauteous Guinevere, - Thy chosen mate and queen of this fair realm. - - _Arthur._ I go not forth! - - _Launcelot._ Thou goest not, and why? - - _Arthur._ Deem it not strange my Launcelot that I sit - Here thus disconsolate my betrothal morn, - Nor over eager for to play the lover, - And decked in splendor go to meet the queen. - Launcelot thine Arthur hath a sorrow. - Hast seen my son Mordred? - - _Launcelot._ Yea Arthur, I have seen this Mordred. - Yea, mine Arthur, thou hast indeed a sorrow, - And could thy Launcelot but help thee bear it! - - _Arthur._ What thinkest thou of this Mordred, this my son? - Likest thou him not? - - _Launcelot._ He is so strange, so small, so queer of limb, - At first I marvelled, then I pitied, then---- - - _Arthur._ Yea, and what? - - _Launcelot._ I met his eyes, and straightway I forgot - The manner of man he was, save that a soul - Of wondrous scorn and mystery met mine; - That froze the present, made the future dread, - With strange forbodings. While I mused he passed, - But left that chill behind him in my blood. - And yet he seemeth a soul, Sire, to be pitied. - - _Arthur._ Yea, all but pity, Arthur’s son should claim. - - _Launcelot._ ’Tis thy cross Arthur, as a king thou’lt bear it. - And we all seeing shall say our king, like Christ, - Beareth his cross i’ the sunlight i’ the shadow, - And take pattern from thy greatness. - - _Arthur._ I bear it not, Launcelot, it beareth me down, - Down into black depths, aye and blacker. - He cometh betwixt my spirit and the sun. - Canst thou not help thy king? - I seem like one who walketh in dreams where all are shadows - Till I seem but a shadow-king walking in a realm of shadows. - - _Launcelot._ Take courage to thee Arthur, it will off, - Go in thy kingship’s strength and meet thy queen. - Her beauty and her kindliness will cure thee - Of this distemper. - - _Arthur._ Nay, Launcelot, this is the very matter, - As thou well knowest she hath never seen me, - And for the very reverence I bear her, - A maiden princess, I would hold as snow - In each thing that regardeth purity. - By all the love that I would bear to her, - I would not have her meet me in this mood. - But I would have her meet her Arthur when - In kingly grace he is himself a king. - Yea, Launcelot for this I sent for thee. - ’Tis mine intent that I should tarry here - And in the joustings cure me of this fit, - While thou dost go forth in my place and bring - The Princess Guinevere to Camelot. - - _Launcelot._ Nay Sire, not I! Not Launcelot! - - _Arthur._ By thy love for me, thou wilt do it, - Whom else in all this kingdom wide but thee - Could I send on a mission such as this. - I honor all thy love in sending thee, - The one true knight, the glory of my realm. - In this, Oh Launcelot, thou canst help thy king, - And show abroad the love that ’twixt us lies. - Till men will say: “So much of love there lies - Betwixt King Arthur and great Launcelot, - That when the king stayed ill at Camelot - He sent forth Launcelot to fetch the Queen.” - And what more fitting messenger to send - Than thee in all thy strong and splendid youth, - The flower and sun of all my chivalry, - Launcelot the young and pure-in-heart. - Thou wilt do this and crown thy love for me. - - _Launcelot._ Nay, mine own Arthur, men will rather say: - Why stayed the king, unkingly, thus at home, - And sent forth Launcelot to meet his bride? - Oh Arthur, by my love, go forth thyself. - Rather thou sentest me sack a hundred cities - Than do this deed that will un-king thee so. - - _Arthur._ Launcelot, I would rather die than go. - - _Launcelot._ Yea Arthur, I would rather die than go. - - _Arthur._ Launcelot lovest thou thine Arthur? - - _Launcelot._ Yea Arthur, well thou knowest. - - _Arthur._ Wilt thou honor me as a king? - - _Launcelot._ Yea to the death. - - _Arthur._ Then the king commands that thou goest for the love thou - bearest Arthur. - - _Launcelot._ Yea Sire, I go. (_Aside_) And all fears go with me. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE IV.--_Leodegrance’s Castle at Camelard._ - - _Enter_ LEODEGRANCE and Pages. - - _Leo._ Now is the day auspicious to my house - When Guinevere will wed the mighty Arthur. - Golden the mornings, happy speed the nights, - With constellations soft and wooing hours - That speed the bride and bridegroom to their bowers. - Splendid be my prime and soft mine age, - Who am a father to this mighty realm. - Ho there, without! - - [_Trumpets heard, enter pages._ - - _Page._ Mighty Sire, with trumpet and with drum, - The lofty Arthur with his host hath come. - A world of spears and pennons fill the town, - And all the burghers feast their eyes with seeing. - - [_A clatter of arms without. Enter_ LAUNCELOT _who kneels_. - - _Launcelot._ Sir King! - - _Leo._ Where tarries the great Prince Arthur? - - _Launcelot._ He cometh not, my lord. - - _Leo._ And why? - - _Launcelot._ The king on sudden sick at Camelot - Hath sent me with his heart to Camelard - To plead his absence with thee and the Princess, - And guard her glad way forth to Camelot. - I am that Launcelot, that knight-at-arms, - Who loveth Arthur more than maid or king. - Perchance if thou wilt trust her to my care,-- - Here is great Arthur’s order. - [_Presents a ring._ - - _Leo._ Welcome to Camelard, most noble knight, - Well ken we of thy name and nobleness. - It grieves us much great Arthur could not come, - And guest of our poor hospitality, - Receive our noble daughter at our hearth, - And lead her home from out our very doors. - This much perforce had willed a father’s pride. - This much had satisfied a father’s love. - But seeing Chance hath given us none of it, - We must be gracious to her messenger - And thank her for the safety she hath sent. - Tomorrow’s dawn we give into thy hands - The maiden daughter of our kingly love, - To guard in safety to great Arthur’s court, - There to be wedded as his faithful queen. - Meanwhile receive our hospitality. - This castle and this town are thine to-night - In honor of the Princess and the King. - - _Launcelot._ We thank thee Sire for this thy hospitality. - - _Leo._ Yea one thing further, knowing our daughter’s nature, - And fearing a maiden’s pride might feel a hurt, - At the King’s absence, we would therefore advise - That this be kept a secret till tomorrow, - When we will break it softly to Her Highness; - Though she hath never seen him, as thou knowest, - She now half loves him for his kingly virtues, - And being her father’s daughter thinks it well - To act a daughter’s just obedience. - She hath a wayward nature, ’tis a pride - We have in common, therefore we defer - This matter till tomorrow. ’Twould not do - To let her sleep on such sharp disappointment. - - _Launcelot._ As you will, noble lord. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE V.--_The apartment of_ GUINEVERE--GUINEVERE _and a lady - attendant_. - - _Guinevere._ Now Unid I have seen this noble Arthur. - I spied him from my turret as he rode, - And all my heart went out in love to him, - The knight incarnate of my girlhood’s dreams. - Did’st thou notice his bearing Unid? - - _Unid._ Yea my lady, and fairer man and nobler knight - Eye hath not seen. - - _Guin._ His face was like the gardens when the sun - Lifts up his crimson splendor after dawn, - His bearing as the bearing of a god, - And yet as one who would be kind and loving. - - _Unid._ Yea, my lady, he seemed glad and fair, - And fit to be the lord to thee, my Princess. - - _Guin._ Come Unid take my hand and we wilt sit - And speak of this great Arthur. Well thou knowest - My maiden fears regarding this same marriage. - I honored this Arthur as a noble king, - The mighty monarch and the splendid warrior. - And yet I fear him for reputed coldness. - Thou knowest me a princess warm in blood, - Brim with fire and sweetness of this life, - Not fitted to be wedded to a statue, - A marble, though that marble be a king. - For something stirred my life-springs long ago, - And whispered, Guinevere were made for love - And love alone would rule her destiny. - And when I looked and saw him enter there, - And knew my lord, and felt him gaze my way, - Knowing his errand to my father’s hall, - I blushed me till mine inmost being burned. - And all the roses whispered, “Arthur”! “Arthur”! - And “Arthur”! “Arthur”! rang through all the halls. - I wonder much if he will love me Unid? - - _Unid._ In sooth he must, my lady, be he noble. - Though he never saw thee, who but heard - Of all thy charms, my Princess Guinevere, - Could help but love thee when he seeth thy face? - - _Guin._ ’Tis in my mind to sound his manner, Unid. - To take him treacherous and unawares. - I like not much this way of wedding maids, - In cruel blindness of their coming fate. - This marriage savoreth much of state affairs, - Even o’er much to please my noble fancy. - I would me much to see this royal lover, - And know with mine own senses if he loves - With that intense delight and warmth of feeling, - With which poor Darby freely weddeth Joan. - Though I be all a queen I be a woman, - With all the thoughts and instincts of a woman. - - _Unid._ What would’st thou do, my lady? - - _Guin._ That I this even meet him in the garden. - - _Unid._ On what pretence, my lady? ’Twere a risky business. - - _Guin._ Thou wilt be veiled and take this golden ring, - Cozen his squire, and say, this for the knight - Who rode within the castle walls to-day. - Leave thou him word, a lady in distress, - Who needeth a knight to aid her in her sorrow, - Would meet him in the garden walls at sunset. - - _Unid._ I will do it my lady, but what if he come not? - - _Guin._ No danger of his not coming if he be - The man I worshipped from my tower this morning. - He’d come were yon rose-plot enchanted ground, - And gated by a thousand belching fiends. - He’d come, my king! Oh Unid, how I love him! - - - SCENE VI.--_A rose garden adjoining the Castle._ - - _Enter_ LAUNCELOT. - - _Launcelot._ This is a sunset bower for lovers made. - The air seems faint with pale and ruddy bloom, - The red for rosy dreams, the white for pure - And holy maiden thoughts all unexpressed. - There hangs fatality upon this place. - I cannot shake its ague from my heart. - I would I were safe back in Camelot, - With this fair Guinevere, great Arthur’s glory. - I’d rather meet the mad kerls of the Isles, - Than come again on such a quest as this. - This Guinevere they say is proud and cold, - Not such a woman as Launcelot would love. - Yea love, what doth it mean, and this strange maiden, - What can she want of me? Aye, here she comes. - - _Enter_ GUINEVERE, _veiled_. - - _Guin._ My lord forgive this meeting in this place. - (_Aside_) O, if he like it not! - - _Launcelot._ Wouldst thou ask mine aid? - - _Guin._ Yea, wouldst thou aid a maiden in distress? - - _Launcelot._ Lady, all maidens have a right to a true knight’s - help. - - _Guin._ My lord hast thou ever loved? - - _Laun._ Many fair women have I seen, but none to love as thou - meanest. - Why askest thou me this? - - _Guin._ Wouldst thou fight for one like me? - [_Throwing aside her cloak._ - - _Laun._ (_Starts and stands as one in a dream._) Fair lady! - (_Aside._) Kind heaven what be this? - In all my dreams I never saw such beauty - Of woman’s face or of a woman’s form. - She fills my heart like combs of golden honey. - - _Guin._ My lord, thou hast lost thy tongue. - (_Aside_) I had not dreamed this. - - _Laun._ Fair lady, forgive my sudden lack of speech, - But never in my existence have I seen - Such loveliness and maiden grace as thine. - Yea, I would call it benison, could I stand, - And gaze upon thee as thou art, forever. - There’s some fatality that draws me to thee, - Like I had known thee somewhere long ago. - - _Guin._ My lord! - - _Laun._ Thou art all glory, all that this life is, - And all before but one poor pallid dream - Of this real living. Now I see thy face, - I know what heaven is and all delights - That erring mortals lost in Paradise. - - _Guin._ My lord! (_Aside_) Sweet heaven this be too blessed. - - _Laun._ Fair maiden, Princess, lady, what thou art - Is what I’d die for. In mine inmost heart - Thou art inshrined. It seems some blessed dream. - Thou art too beautiful for mortal maid, - And yet I feel thou art not all unkind, - Might I dare read love’s missal in thine eyes. - - _Guin._ Most noble lord, I came here for this purpose - To render my heart’s being up to thee. - Deem not this act unmaidenly in one - Whose whole life’s currents to thy being run. - My lord! - - _Laun._ It seems that we were never strangers. - [_Folds her in his arms and kisses her._ - - _Guin._ All life hath been but shaping up to this. - - _Laun._ Oh could this sunset be but gold forever. - - _Guin._ My lord Arthur! - - _Laun._ (_Starts back._) Great God! - - _Guin._ Kiss me. Why Great God? - Thou art my God when thy lips are so sweet. - - _Laun._ Why calledst thou me Arthur? - - _Guin._ And art thou not? - - _Laun._ Oh, who art thou that callest Arthur, lord? - - _Guin._ As thou art Arthur, I am Guinevere. - - [_Launcelot starts back in horror._ - - _Laun._ Guinevere! Oh hell make thick your murky curtains. - Day wake no more! stars shrink your eye-hole lights, - And let this damned earth shrivel. - - _Guin._ (_Clutching his arm._) And art thou not great Arthur? - Who art thou? O God! who art thou? - - _Laun._ Not Arthur, no! but that damned Launcelot, - Who twixt his hell and Arthur’s heaven hath got. - - _Guin._ Then am I a doomed maid. - [_Swoons._ - - _Laun._ Black, murky fiend of hell! come in thy form - Most monstrous, give me age on ages here. - And I will clang with thee and all thine imps. - Bind me in blackness under hell’s foul night, - And it were nothing, after dream like this. - - _Guin._ (_Rising up._) Oh mercy! damned or not, I love thee still. - - _Laun._ Why doth not nature crack and groan? - - _Guin._ (_Crawls to his feet._) Oh be thou fiend or imp or - Launcelot. - Thy kisses burn me even through this mist. - - _Laun._ Yea, thou dost move me as never woman hath moved. - Oh would to God that we had never loved. - Then thou wouldst have been Guinevere, and I Launcelot. - - _Guin._ What be we now? - - _Laun._ Damned souls. - - _Guin._ Then sweet, my love, it were thus to be damned. - - _Laun._ Oh thou must go, proud Guinevere, tomorrow - Unto great Arthur’s court and be his bride, - And I will be that olden Launcelot - In shape and seeming, though I hold a devil. - Oh never more, mine Arthur, will I look - With peace and frankness on thy noble face. - ’Twixt thee and me a wall is builded up - Of hideous evil. Guinevere, my love, - We were damned long ago, and this be hell. - - _Guin._ Oh most unfortunate me, thou art not Arthur, - And I am Guinevere and I have loved. - Though I go morrow morn to Camelot - And place my hand in his and pledge him mine, - Not all the clamor of glad abbey-bells, - Or heavenward incense, may kill out the fever - Of thy hot kisses on my burning lips. - I am not Arthur’s. He is but a name, - A ringing doom that haunts me round the world. - Launcelot, we were wedded long ago - Before this life in some old Venus garden, - And this brief meeting but re-memory - Awakening from some cursed doze of life - Unto this present glory of our love. - Thou wilt not leave me Launcelot, loveless lorn? - - _Laun._ Aye, this be hell! - - _Guin._ Aye, hell to me to be divorced from thee. - - _Laun._ Thou art betrothed to our great lord high Arthur, - And I that Arthur’s trusted bosom friend. - And yet I’d kiss again thy honied lips, - Though Arthur’s shadow flaming stood between. - I’m not an Adam to be driven out - With flaming brand from thy sweet paradise. - I’d hold thee Guinevere in these mine arms, - Though on each side, asquare, a “shalt not” stood. - I’d fight ’gainst all, aye Arthur, mine old self. - Oh Guinevere, this love hath made me mad. - Oh were’t that all were changed in nature’s course. - That I were not myself but some rude shape. - That thou wert not so sweet to look upon, - But sour and crabbed and old for Arthur’s sake, - So that all might have gone the olden way. - - _Guin._ Oh that this night might never pass away, - We and this garden here forever stay, - Yon rising moon forever hold her crest - Above the fringéd peace of yonder West, - These roses ever perfumed petals cast, - So that our love in its glad youth might last; - No bleak to-morrows with their Arthurs come, - With evil waking to a sombre doom; - No age, like autumn, wrinkling to decays, - Filled with sad hauntings of gone yesterdays. - - [_Curtain._ - - - - -ACT II. - - - SCENE I.--_The forest of Bracliande._ - - _Enter_ MERLIN _and_ VIVIEN. - - _Merlin._ Tarry we here, for I am fain for rest. [_sinks down._ - Oh mighty Slumber, sweet Oblivion, - Make this day night and seal my sleep-ward eyes; - And bear me in thy light and feathery bark - For I am over-weary of this world. - - _Vivien._ Give me the book of charms wherein is written - The power whereof that I may guard thy rest. - - [_Merlin gives her the book._ - - _Merlin._ Thou hast poor Merlin on the weaker side. - [_He sleeps._ - - [VIVIEN _mutters the charm_. - - _Vivien._ Sleep! Sleep! [MERLIN _tries to awaken_. - - _Merlin._ Ho! Ho! a mountain lieth on me. Take off this mountain! - Ha! Ha! mine olden power, and thou art gone at last! - [_Tries to rise._ - - _Vivien._ (_Mutters charm._) Sleep! Sleep! - - _Merlin._ Methought it thundered, and a drop of rain - Fell on my forehead. - - _Vivien._ Sleep! Sleep! - Spirit of slumber, rise from thy dark caves! - [_The spirit of sleep rises up as a - grey mist and looms about._ - Wrap him in thy shadowy embrace - And bind him in thy filmy, silken bonds - A thousand ages. - - _Merlin._ Oh light, thou goest out! [_Sinks again._ - - _Vivien._ Come, black Oblivion, from thy shadowy tomb! - [_The spirit of oblivion rises as a black smoke._ - Shroud him in thy swart and deep embrace - A thousand ages. Bind his senses fast. - Make him all droppings of a foul decay. - [MERLIN _moans and sinks in sleep_. - [VIVIEN _weaves paces about him. Spirits rise - and wind him in a grey and black smoke_. - Sleep like any rock or clod of earth, - Thou coffin that enclosed a human soul. - The blind, dull years take never note of thee, - For thou art part and parcel of the past. - Now Arthur, that thy great right hand is gone, - Vivien the devil backs to Camelot, - Vivien the scorned, the dust betwixt thy feet, - Doth back to Camelot where vengeance waits. - I am resolved to be the villain dire, - And cunning devil of this present play. - Then hence to Camelot to achieve mine end. - I’ll shadow Mordred, work upon his ill, - And mould him creature to my devil’s will. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE II.--_Castle at Camelot._ - - _Enter_ MORDRED. - - _Mordred._ Two roads there are for me in this dark world, - Both shadowed by the gloom of haunted groves. - One leads to quiet and kind nature’s peace. - I’m part inclined to join a brotherhood, - Composed of nature and mine inward thoughts, - And take my shadow from this damnéd court, - Where so much ill begins to lift its head. - The other road leads to no happiness; - But dark ambition--it lowers about my brain, - And hatred at the scorn of human eyes. - Yea, I am half resolved to be a man, - And take a part in this poor shifty world, - And help to pull the ropes behind the scenes - That aid the puppets to their forcéd parts. - Yea, sooth indeed that Vivien hath a devil, - But it is such a sweet and clever devil, - I cannot help but take it to mine arms. - She hath a counsel toward the stormier part. - She puts her little foot on fate’s grim head, - And harks it hiss. I am persuaded much - To make a stir to remedy my wrongs. - And yet my loftier nature cries me no. - Oh! Mordred, what art thou, mis-shapen devil? - Thou wilt be sweet as Launcelot in the grave, - Though thou canst never smile on Guinevere, - Or other star of brightness, stand by Arthur - Like lofty pine that girds the hills of snow. - Yea, I am half constrained to be a devil, - And take this mighty kingdom by the walls, - And shake it till its deep foundations thunder. - There is no love for Mordred in these precincts; - Took he the lonely road tomorrow morn, - They’d cover his face and laugh the world along, - Unmindful of his setting. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN. - - _Vivien._ Nay not so, there are two as would grieve thee. - - _Mordred._ Aye, two? - - _Vivien._ Yea, two, I and thy dog. - - _Mordred._ Yea sooth would grieve my poor four-footed beast. - Better that Mordred had been got a dog, - With four good legs and strength of limbs and back, - A pattern to his species, than be thus - A blot on all the beauty of his kind. - Vivien, I would that I were shelved in earth. - - _Vivien._ Doubtest thou my love? - - _Mordred._ Thou art a strange and subtle human mixture - Of cleverness and charm and swift deceit, - And yet I like thee, though thou voicest me - Upon the evil longings of my nature. - What canst thou love in me? - - _Vivien._ Yea all of thee, not thy mis-shapen body, - But thy deep, precious mind, thy spirit rare, - That patent greatness seated on thy brow - Wherefore I’d see thee lift this Arthur down, - And show thy kingship on thy rightful throne. - Thou hast a grievance against this callous world, - If ever man were saddled by grim woe. - - _Enter_ LAUNCELOT _at left, followed by_ GUINEVERE. - - And here doth come the way as will help thee to it. - [_Pulls_ MORDRED _back into the shadow_. - - _Laun._ (_Comes forward followed by_ GUINEVERE.) - My dearest lady why wilt tempt me thus? - Thou art the rightful, wedded spouse of Arthur. - - _Guin._ (_Kneels._) Oh! Launcelot thou hast damned me with thy - beauty. - I am no more the rightful wife of Arthur, - I cannot live without thee, Launcelot. - - _Laun._ Lady, this stolen sweetness is a hell. - I am no more the Launcelot that I was, - Nor would I be that Launcelot for high Heaven. - - [_Both pass on._ - - _Vivien._ (_Aside to_ MORDRED.) These words are rungs by which to - build thy ladder - Over the ruins of this dooméd kingdom. - - _Mordred._ I cannot play thus on my father’s shame, - Even though he hate me. I would rather go - And bury my sorrows in a hermit’s grave - Than build a power upon this human folly. - Even these twain, my heart doth pity them. - Not all their beauty hath kept them from this hell. - - _Vivien._ Hast thou no pride, Prince Mordred? - Yea, wait a breath, I’ll show thy wrongs too deep - To languish in a monkish wilderness. - What hast thy soul to do with weeds and turf? - Assert thy greatness or else kill thyself. - Thou art not fit to cumber this flat earth - If thou canst not assert thy dignity. - Were I mis-shapen o’er a thousand times, - Had but one eye, a wen upon my neck, - And swart and foul as foulest Caliban, - And were a man, I’d make my kingship felt-- - So all should fear the God that looked a devil. - - _Mordred._ Where’er thou comest from, thou comest not from Heaven. - - _Vivien._ Yea, what cometh down from Heaven is not for such as - thee. - The day doth come when thou wilt call on me. - - _Re-enter_ GUINEVERE _alone_. - - _Vivien._ Stay lady, I would speak with thee. - - _Guin._ What art thou, woman? - - _Vivien._ I am a maiden here about thy court, - Of whom ’tis said that she did love great Arthur, - Our high, lord Arthur, whom thou lovest so well; - If this be my poor crime, forgive me lady, - Seeing thou thyself art happier in the same. - Thou art the splendid moon to his great planet, - And we but stars that vanish at thy rising. - - _Guin._ What wouldst thou with me? - - _Vivien._ I would bring unto thy notice one, - Wronged of nature and his human kind, - Knowing where thine admiration stopped, - Might follow thy pity. - - _Mordred._ Nay, all but pity. Pity is such a gift - That all the world would grant it, none receive. - Grant me thy scorn, lady, but withhold thy pity. - Thou mightst pity a horse or dog or fowl, - But man of rarest compounds moulded up, - And standing on foundations of a soul, - Hath too much of the god within him hid - To need such shallow, cold, inclement gifts. - Your pities would freeze the icéd heart of winter - Colder within its breast. - - _Guin._ And what art thou, strange heap, that speakest thus unto - the queen. - - _Mordred._ Madam, I am one who through this world, - Goeth by ways of sorrow and mishap. - Knowest me not, Madam? - - _Guin._ Thou seemest like some gloomier Dagonet, - Wearing the proud black of some mock tragedy. - Art thou another fool? - - _Vivien._ (_Aside._) Ah! that will touch him. - - _Mordred._ A fool, Madam! Callest thou Mordred a fool? - Takest thou him for one who juggles for a court? - A football for the passing to merriment, - Forgotten ere his wit hath passed to sadness. - Because I wear mis-nature on my form, - Knowest thou not the son of Britain’s king? - - _Guin._ I know thee not, save that thou art insolent. - Pass! You bar my way. - - _Mordred._ Is there so little in this royalty - That men know not a king when he goes forth? - When that great Arthur thou callest lord goes out, - I tell thee, Madam, I am Britain’s king. - - _Guin._ Enough insolent! is it some mock tragedy - Thou playest? Or art thou mad? - - _Mordred._ Madam though thou wert thousand times a queen, - The day will come when thou wilt eat those words - With the salt rue of utter wretchedness. - - _Vivien._ (_Aside_). He hath awakened at last. - - _Enter_ LAUNCELOT. - - _Guin._ Dost threaten thy queen? Make way, monster! - - _Laun._ (_Rushing forward._) Dost thou insult the Queen? - - _Mordred._ Nay, not as thou hast insulted great Arthur’s wife. - - _Laun._ Toad! abortion! take that, and that. (_Beats him with the - flat of his sword._) - - _Mordred._ (_Starting back and drawing._) Thou hast slain pity and - peace forever. - Come on! adulterous knight; and each foul stroke - Dishonoring my poor back, I’ll pay with hate - To fullest usury. (_They close._) - - [LAUNCELOT _disarms_ MORDRED. - - _Laun._ There go, Mis-shapen. Wert thou not a Prince, - I’d teach thee manners toward thy father’s wife; - Wert thou a man, and not that which thou art, - With this quick blade I’d stop thy craven heart. - - _Mordred._ There is nought more to do but to slay me. - (_Bares his breast._) Slay me ere I kill myself. - - _Vivien._ Nay! Nay! - - _Laun._ Kill thyself, Prince, Launcelot fights with men! - (_To the Queen._) I will follow you, my lady. - - _Exit_ LAUNCELOT _and the Queen_. - - _Mordred._ (_Flings his sword away._) All sweet compassions, - pityings and resolves - That dwelt in Mordred’s breast are slain at last, - Slain by a woman’s scorn, a man’s brutality. - A last good-bye to all my gladder thoughts. - And hail dark vengeance, plots and evil counsels. - Mordred is mis-shapen, then will he breed chaos. - Mordred is monstrous, then will he breed horrors. - Mordred is dark, then will he cast a shadow, - That ne’er shall loose this kingdom’s light again. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE III.--_Another part of the Castle._ - - _Enter_ VIVIEN. - - _Vivien._ Now for the plot to bring this kingdom down. - I’ve racked my wits. Yea, I have got a plan. - Ho! here comes Mordred. - - _Enter_ MORDRED. - - Art thou resolved to put it to an issue? - Or art thou craven? - - _Mordred._ Yea I am all determination now. - Compunction’s dead. Yea, I am over-tired - Of playing the wart upon the hand of time. - But am resolved to be that hand itself, - And move the issues of this foolish world. - - _Vivien._ What is thy plot? - - _Mordred._ To hold the world at bay. - - _Vivien._ ’Tis too vague. - - _Mordred._ Yea all this life is vague till evil shrinks - The vistas of our longings down to lusts. - My plot is this, to reach this kingdom by - The sinister door that opens to Launcelot. - - _Vivien._ Yea, ’tis my thought. - - _Mordred._ To catch the queen in her own guilty net, - Then open her shame to all the gaping world. - ’Twill bring great Arthur’s glory by the walls, - With thunder and smoke of splendor to the ground. - Launcelot is half of Arthur’s greatness, - And when he hateth Launcelot for the Queen, - This house of majesty will rend itself, - And Mordred be the raven in the smoke, - Flapping his wings across it’s desolation. - - _Vivien._ Yea, then will my hate,--my love,-- - - _Mordred._ Nay woman do not speak of hates or loves - Or other foolish human hearted moods - Of man’s poor weakness, nay, but steel thyself - To be an engine of the crushing fates; - For he who would be powerful must be iron - And adamant amid this cruel world, - Knowing not heat nor cold, remorse nor shame, - Doing the deed that cometh to his hand. - But we must have a care and watch and wait - And bait the trap and lay the springe and mine. - Not such a greatness crumbles in a day. - Much might be lost by hastening the issue. - Some one must work upon the moody king - And mould him softly, cunningly to knowledge - Of his cuckoldship. It must be deftly done, - Or like spark o’ the powder, it would send - Our plottings and hopings out o’ the skyhole. - - _Vivien._ It is well. - - _Mordred._ Meanwhile we watch the Queen and Launcelot, - Each action, aye, the changing of their faces; - Till knowledge be garnered of their secret commerce. - Who will approach the King? - - _Dagonet._ (_Heard without singing._) - - Morning her face is, - Blue seas her eyes, - All of earth’s sweetness - In their light lies. - - Coral her lips are, - Red reefs of doom, - There do Love’s ships drive, - Down to their doom. - - _Vivien._ Leave it to me, here cometh one who may work the matter. - - _Mordred._ Who be it? Not the fool? - - _Vivien._ Yea, the fool! He is not all surface, he is deep, - Yea, deep for me. - - _Mordred._ May he be trusted? - - _Vivien._ Yea, like one who is in love. - Leave me Prince, I would sound him. - - _Dagonet._ (_Enters singing._) - - There would I shipwreck, - Swooning to death, - Passing to darkness - On the winds of her breath. [_Exit_ MORDRED. - Ho Vivien! - - _Vivien._ Well fool, and what wert thou singing? - - _Dagonet._ ’Twas but a fool’s carol. - - _Vivien._ If thou wert not a fool I would say thou wert in love. - - _Dagonet._ (_Starts._) Well guessed, Vivien. - And by Our Lady, thou art in the right of it. - - _Vivien._ And who might be the object, sir Fool? - - _Dagonet._ Madam, I am deep in love with three mistresses. - To wit, the past, the present, and the future. - - _Vivien._ And how be that, Fool? - - _Dagonet._ The first be my breakfast which I have had, - The second my dinner which I have just eaten, - And the third be my supper, which like the morrow - Is the more joyful as yet to come. - - _Vivien._ Wouldst thou do me a favor? - - _Dagonet._ What be it? - - _Vivien._ Dost thou love the king? - - _Dagonet._ Yea that I do, though he be sometimes like a great - child, - Spoiled on the weather-side. - There be something grieves him. - - _Vivien._ Yea, well hath he cause to grieve! - - _Dagonet._ Thou dost say so! What be the cause? - - _Vivien._ The queen. - - _Dagonet._ Why, she be well favored? - - _Vivien._ Yea, but treacherous. - - _Dagonet._ Aye, knowest thou that? - - _Vivien._ Yea, and more! - - _Dagonet._ Then is hell come on earth! - What wilt have me do? - - _Vivien._ I would have thee warn the king. - - _Dagonet._ The king! - - _Vivien._ Yea, the king. - - _Dagonet._ As well ask the cricket to pipe for the thunderstorm. - Dost thou crave my destruction so dearly? - - _Vivien._ Thou alone canst do it and survive, - Thou art of so little worth in his estimation, - And thou must. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, Vivien, I will. Oh poor world, - Where e’en royalty cannot ’scape the blight! - God save us all! I will e’en commence now. - Here cometh the king. [_Exit_ VIVIEN. - - KING _enters at the left_. - - _Dagonet._ Though she bade me hellward, I will obey. - But what evilment is abroad now, - That would I know? There’s something back o’ this. - The king a cuckold! Then Heaven help us all! - I would this were dispatched, yet how to do it, - Passeth mine understanding. - - _Arthur._ Well, sir Fool, - Hast a merry message for my heart to-day? - - _Dagonet._ Yea Sire. - - _Arthur._ Then mouth it, Fool. - - _Dagonet._ He who cometh to the wall hath crossed the - last ditch. - - _Arthur._ Thine is but grim comfort, Fool. - - _Dagonet._ Then is it thine, King, and he who garners not i’ the - morning - Can laugh with death. - - _Arthur._ Indeed thou art over-weird, - Come, play me a masque. - - _Dagonet._ A masque, Sire! Should it be merry? - - _Arthur._ Aye, merry, or thou ruest it! - - _Dagonet._ Here be a comedy, Sire;-- - There be a king, Sire;-- - - _Arthur._ Yea. - - _Dagonet._ And there be a queen, Sire, - And there be a bishop--nay, a knight. - - _Arthur._ And what then? - - _Dagonet._ The knight taketh the queen! - - _Arthur._ And the king, Fool? - - _Dagonet._ Oh he be fools-mated! ha! ha! ha! - - _Arthur._ And where be the comedy, Fool? - - _Dagonet._ Oh the fiends laugh i’ the pit, - That be the comedy, ha! ha! ha! - - _Arthur._ Ha! hast thou a moral? - - _Dagonet._ Nay, not a moral, Sire! Morals be not in it. - - _Arthur._ Thou art but a wry fool to-day. - - _Dagonet._ (_Aside._) My plan faileth. - (_To the king._) Yea Sire, I passed an uncommon sorry night. - - _Arthur._ How fool? - - _Dagonet._ I dreamed of thee, Sire, and as I love thee, - I liked it not. - - _Arthur._ What was thy dream? - - _Dagonet._ I dreamed I saw thee stand, and back of thee - A great blackness, that thou sawest not, - And from the shadow loomed--pardon me Sire--the queen - And--and-- - - _Arthur._ Ha, and what? - - _Dagonet._ Forgive thy poor fool, Sire, but methought I saw Sir - Launcelot. - - _Arthur._ (_In a terrible passion._) Heaven damn thee, beast! - scum! - (_Knocks Dagonet down and would throttle him._) - Did the greatest knight ’i this kingdom - Dare even dream such a thought, I would hack him to earth. - - _Dagonet._ Slay me, great Arthur, but forgive thy fool. - - _Arthur._ Knowest thou not thou hast slandered the whole realm? - - _Dagonet._ I am but a poor fool, Sire. - - _Enter_ GWAINE, _a tall clumsy youth in scullion’s dress_. - - _Arthur._ Who art thou? - - _Gwaine._ Thou must tell me. - - _Arthur._ I am the king. - - _Gwaine._ Art thou? Thou lookest like one. - - _Arthur._ Whence comest thou? - - _Gwaine._ I came out o’ the marches yestermorn, - Where I served my father i’ the bogs, - Intentioning to be a knight, - And they put me down in the kitchen. - - _Arthur._ Thou wouldst be a knight? - - _Gwaine._ Yea! - - _Arthur._ And wherefore? - - _Gwaine._ That I might serve the king. - - _Arthur._ Thou wouldst serve me? - - _Gwaine._ That I would. - - _Arthur._ (_Loosening_ DAGONET.) Then hang yonder imp i’ the crane - over the castle wall. - - _Gwaine._ Come, rat! (_lifts_ DAGONET _and hangs him on the - crane_.) - - _Dagonet._ Oh, Oh, the shame! - - _Gwaine._ Hath such as thou shame? - - _Dagonet._ Yea, I house me a soul. - - _Gwaine._ Then is it poorly lodged. (_goes out._) - - _Arthur._ (_Strides back and forth._) Yea a fool!--worse than a - fool! - Arthur, why wilt thou shame thyself even in thought? - Out damned suspicion, that insulteth my dignity! - - _Enter_ GUINEVERE. - - _Arthur._ Madam, I would entreat thy pardon! - - _Guin._ Wherefore my lord? - - _Arthur._ For a thought. Guinevere, I am unworthy of thy - queenliness. - - _Guin._ Nay, nay my lord, not so. I am but flesh and blood. - - _Arthur._ Thou art a Queen! - - _Guin._ Yea, and a weak woman. - - _Arthur._ It seemeth we be strangers even yet. - - _Guin._ Aye, my lord. - - _Arthur._ Thou art cold, Madam, and I like that iciness. - It well becometh the left side of this whiteness I uphold. - What wouldst with Arthur, this morning, my Queen? - - _Guin._ I would know of the tournament thou hast in hand. - - _Arthur._ Yea, the tournament!--the tournament! - I fear I am over moody and forgetful at times. - Hast thou seen Launcelot? - - _Guin._ (_Starts._) Why Launcelot, my lord? He is not the King. - - _Arthur._ Yea, not the king, but he hath charge of such matters. - Knowest thou my lady, that Arthur loveth Launcelot. - Yea, had Arthur a brother or a son, would he were Launcelot - And were Launcelot evil, the Heavens would distil poison. - - _Guin._ Yea, my lord, but thou forgettest the tourney. - - _Arthur._ Heralds have been sent out and from all parts of the - kingdom. - Jousts are invited, with strange and wondrous tests. - - _Re-enter_ GWAINE. - - _Gwaine._ Well, what next? - - _Arthur._ Sirrah! the Queen! - - _Gwaine._ (_Doffs his cap._) Morrow, Madam. - - _Arthur._ To your knees! by my blade, to your knees! - - _Gwaine._ By my legs, I am no lick-spittle to claw the earth. - Kneel to your own woman, I’ll to none. - - _Arthur._ Death! down on your life! (_Draws._) - - _Guin._ Nay, nay he will kneel. - - _Gwaine._ Not he, King or other man, I can crack a neck. - Come on, give me a quarterstaff and I’ll knock your - Kings like nine-pins. - - _Guin._ (_Gets between._) Nay! nay! - - _Arthur._ Wilt thou kneel? - - _Gwaine._ I will fight, but I will not kneel. - Not to mine own mother, Gwaine is honest but a plain man. - - _Guin._ And thou shalt not kneel, if thou wilt not. - Thou art well favored, had’st thou manners. - - _Gwaine._ Manners, Madam, like fine feathers, - But hide the lice ’i the bird. - Gwaine loveth acts not appearances. - - _Arthur._ Madam, wilt thou that I make him kneel? - - _Guin._ Nay, but grant his wish. - - _Arthur._ What wilt thou, knave? - - _Gwaine._ That I be made a knight. - - _Arthur._ Thou must kneel to be knighted. - - _Gwaine._ Not to man. - - _Arthur._ To thy God, then. - - _Gwaine._ So be it, if it must. (_Kneels._) - - _Arthur._ What be thy name? - - _Gwaine._ They called me Gwaine ’i the Marches. - - _Arthur._ (_Lifts his sword._) - - _Gwaine._ (_Leaps to his feet._) Wouldst thou hit a man when he is - down? - - _Arthur._ I would knight thee, clown, ’tis the mode. - - _Gwaine._ Oh! but be careful King ’i the doing. (_Kneels._) - - _Arthur._ Art thou of noble blood? - - _Gwaine._ Dost thou mean honest--Gwaine is plain, if thou meanest - ’i the getting, no one can call Gwaine’s mother a whore. - - _Arthur._ (_Raises his sword and strikes him with the flat on the - shoulder._) Rise, Sir Gwaine. - - _Gwaine._ (_Rises._) Is it done, King? - - _Arthur._ It is in sooth. - - _Gwaine._ Then King am I thine, but yours first, Madam. - Gwaine is plain but honest, I would have a sword, King. - - _Arthur._ Go, get thee one. - - _Gwaine._ Dost thou mean it, King? - - _Arthur._ Yea. - - _Gwaine._ (_Going to the Arras and taking one down proceeds to - buckle it on._) Then this one pleaseth me. - - _Guin._ Stop, knight! ’Tis the king’s. - - _Gwaine._ Then will it be the king’s still. (_Goes out._) - - _Arthur._ What more wouldst thou with me, my lady? - - _Guin._ I would speak of one Mordred. - - _Arthur._ My son! what of him? - - _Guin._ My lord, I would have him banished the Court. - He is sinister on my sight and exceeding forward. - I like him not, wilt thou promise? - - _Arthur._ It is a heavy matter. We will consider it. - - - SCENE IV.--_Enter_ ELAINE _and her retinue_. - - _A Squire._ Lady, this is the place, we will retire. - Within short space the Queen doth come this way. - - [_Exit all except_ ELAINE. - - _Elaine._ They say she is all goodness, she will grant - That I may meet this noble knight and fair, - And know my love returned, or else I die. - - _Enter_ GUINEVERE _and ladies_. - - _Guin._ Lady, what wouldst thou? (_Elaine kneels._) - - _Elaine._ Oh most noble lady, I am a maid, - Called Elaine, daughter unto Astolat’s lord, - Who cometh unto thee, Madam, for kind help - Upon the matter of a maiden’s love. - It rendeth me so, unless it be returned - My heart will burst in twain, and I will die. - - _Guin._ Maiden, thy tale is sad, be thy quest pure, - The queen will help thee, be thy person wronged, - By Arthur’s mighty kingdom, thou art ’venged. - - _Elaine._ Nay Madam, Elaine’s love is white and pure, - And he she loves is noble as any knight - In all this kingdom. Forgive my boldness, Madam, - And by that love thou bearest to the king, - Our great lord, high Arthur, help me now, - And bring me to the face of him I love. - - _Guin._ Of truth, thou hast a boldness in thy love. - (_Aside._) There is an innocence in this fair maid - Doth make me pity her, so deep in love - For some false face that made a summer toy - Of her frank passion. Yea, I pity her. - (_To Elaine._) Maiden, to-morrow we do hold a tourney. - Thou wilt be present with us in the Court, - And thou canst note the knights and seek thy lover, - If he be ’mid the guests of noble Arthur. - - _Elaine._ Oh thank thee, noble Madam, may kind Heaven - Bless thee in thy great wifehood to the King. - - _Guin._ Come, Maiden, thou wilt follow in our train. - - [_Exit all._ - - - SCENE V.--_The Court._ - - _Enter_ VIVIEN _disguised as a strange maiden, followed by - men bearing a great stone with a sword thrust in it_. - - _Arthur._ Whence comest thou unto our Court, strange Maiden? - And on what quest art thou sent? - - _Vivien._ Nine days are past and gone, most noble King, - Since thou didst advertise throughout the land - The kingdom be opened for tests at Camelot - And marvellous feats might here performed be. - Wherefore I, knowing of that noble pride - With which you hold the flower of your great Court - For manhood’s purity, woman’s chastity, - Have deigned to show before the world, great King, - The truth whereof thou boastest. - - _Arthur._ It is bold indeed, but Arthur keeps his word. - What be the tests? - - _Vivien._ First, here, to test thy knighthood’s purity, - We bring a sword sunk fast in yonder stone - By magic’s force, and he who plucks it forth - Must be a knight who hath not known a woman, - Save in the lawful mode of marriage bed. - (_To Launcelot._) Wouldst try, pure Knight? - - _Laun._ Yea, I would, doth great Arthur will, - Though all the fiends of hell clutched nether end. - Do other knights but make the trial first. - - (_A number of knights come forward, try to pull the sword out of the - stone but fail._ - - _Launcelot then places his feet on the stone and grasps the sword - and pulls with all his might, but the sword remains fixed._) - - _Arthur._ It is in sooth a marvel! - - _Laun._ It seemeth grown therein, - Yea, I will bend and strain until it comes. - It will not! (_Stands to take a breath._) - - _Guin._ It is enough! - - _Vivien._ Wouldst thou try again pure Knight? - - _Laun._ Yea I will try till I die, if it come not. - (_Tries again, bends his whole strength, then staggers to his - feet._) Methought the earth’s roots hung thereon. - I am shamed! - - _Arthur._ ’Tis enough! - - _Vivien._ Wilt not try again, pure Knight? - - _Laun._ (_With set face._) Yea, now for Camelot’s glory. - Launcelot’s manhood pulls on this side, Hell on that. - - (_Braces himself and gives one terrible tug, then falls back - fainting._) - - _Elaine._ ’Tis he! (_Rushes out and falls fainting on his - breast. The Queen’s women lift her and bear her out._) - - _Guin._ Great Heaven! - - _Arthur._ ’Tis enough! away with it, Maiden, thy magic hath - outdone our noblest worth. - - _Vivien._ (_Scornfully._) Is there no pure man will make trial? - - _Gwaine._ (_Emerges from the throng still dressed in scullions - dress._) - Yea, I will try, although I rend the stone. - (_Leaps on to the stone and plucks the sword out with both hands, - with a great pull, and waves it aloft with an exultant shout. The - throng starts back._) - How now, mighty King? - - _Arthur._ ’Tis a great marvel! - - _Laun._ (_Steps forth._) The man that hath done that must face - Launcelot to the death,--to the death! (_Faces Gwaine and - draws._) - - _Guin._ My God! (_Her maids support her, she hides her face in her - mantle._) - - _Gwaine._ I would not slay thee. - - _Laun._ Thou can’st not!--Keep you! (_They fight. Knights try to - separate them._) - - _Arthur._ Nay, back, more room! give them more room. - - (_Continue fighting, each draws blood, but neither gives way._) - - _Guin._ (_Aside to the maids._) Be he slain? - - _A Maid._ Neither be slain, Madam. - - _Arthur._ Enough! I say enough! - - _Laun._ Sire! - - _Gwaine._ Must we stop the exercise? - - _Arthur._ It is enough, you are both brave knights. - - _Laun._ Gwaine, thou art better than I. - - _Gwaine._ Thou art the best I have met. - Wilt thou take the hand of Gwaine? - - _Laun._ Yea I will, though it hath pressed me hard. - - _Arthur._ Clear the Court. (_Trumpets blow and the throng falls - back._) - - - SCENE VI.--_An outer room in the Castle_--GUINEVERE _walking back - and forth. Enter_ LAUNCELOT, _kneels, would take her hand_. - - _Laun._ Madam! - - (_Guinevere draws back coldly._) - - _Laun._ Madam, what means this coldness? - Thou wert not ever wont to meet me thus? - - _Guin._ Where hast thou left the maid of Astolat? - - _Laun._ Maid of Astolat! - - _Guin._ Yea that frail pink-and-white that pillowed thy breast, - What time thou did’st faint, some slim cowslip miss - Such as do flatter you strong men by their weakness. - Go flippant knight and seek your skim-milk love. - Guinevere would hate thee but for scorn. - God curse the day I ever let thee love! - - _Laun._ Madam each word thou utterest, like a dagger, - Doth stab with cruel agonies my heart. - If Launcelot hath sinned in loving thee, - That love is maiden unto all save thee. - Yea I am damnèd daily for thy face, - And even thou dost scorn me. - - _Guin._ A truce of words, I saw with mine own eyes, - What all the Court and all the world doth know. - Launcelot’s Love, the Maid of Astolat, - Is mouthed by all fool’s lips in all men’s ears, - Till Guinevere is even Mordred’s scorn. - I’d slay thee, were I only but a man. - - _Laun._ Madam! by my love!-- - - _Guin._ By thy love, a flimsy foresworn thing, - A toylet of a moment! Such as thou! - And I! I gave--, By Heaven! I pluck thee out, - And thrust thee from me, thou false handsome face! - Thou devil-eyed to lead hearts on to ruin! - - _Laun._ Madam, wilt thou not hear? - - _Guin._ Nay, nay, begone! I scorn thee, yea, I hate! - - _Laun._ (_Sadly._) Yea Guinevere I go, to come no more. - It is well seen that thou hast tired of me. - Thou hast driven Launcelot mad! mad! - The world reels round me, I am all alone. - All else the visions of a noisome dream. - I am mad, mad, Guinevere! - And dost thou smile? here’s for the lonely dark! - Ho! ho! the world’s one hideous mockery. - (_Leaps from the casement._) - - _Guin._ Nay, nay, Launcelot! Launcelot! - Come back! I love thee, I forgive thee all! - (_Falls on her face._) Oh Heaven! I have driven him away, - Nevermore, Oh, never to return. - O Love! O Love! my maddened heart will break. - O foolish stars! why smile on this grim night - Lighting the heartless heaven with your eyes? - O foolish birds, why pipe across the dark, - Calling the rosy morn, the false-faced morn, - While hearts are breaking here amid the dark? - Launcelot! Launcelot! Hark! he returns. - Nay, ’tis the foolish wind wooing the silly trees. - He never will return, nor will forgive. - O poor white hand! he nevermore will clasp, - O wayward lips! he nevermore will kiss. - O heart, break! break! - (_Enter a maid._) Madam, here cometh the King. - - (_Guin. Rises._) - - _Arthur._ Madam, watchest thou alone the splendor of the night? - - _Guin._ Yea, there is a burden in the distant sea, - And a soft sadness from the far-off night - Of ghost-winds footing under the haunted dark. - It groweth chill, my Lord. - - _Arthur._ We will go within. (_Exit both._) - - _Enter_ GWAINE _and_ DAGONET. - - _Gwaine._ Yea, mad! mad! stark raving mad, you say? - - _Dagonet._ Yea, mad. His eyes were like balls ’o fire. - An’ his face fixed like he followed a vision, - Or walked ’i his sleep. - An’ his hands did beat the air the while he shouted a war song. - It hath frighted me out of a week’s sleep. - - _Gwaine._ Yea, he is indeed mad. ’Tis this crazy love. - And he such a man, the best ’i the world. - I will take horse and follow him. - Drop that lanthorn, Fool, and help me wi’ this buskin, - ’Tis new to me. The best ’i the world, damn this love! - Fool, wert thou ever in love? - - _Dagonet._ Yea, thou knowest I be a fool. - - _Gwaine._ Then be wise like Gwaine, Fool, and scorn love; - ’Tis but a mad fever ’o the head and marrow. - It creepeth in by the eyes and spoileth a good man. - It killeth sleep and maketh a mock at feeding. - It heateth the blood and routeth caution. - ’Ware of love, Fool, an’ thou would’st be wise. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, thy words be like what the wind said to the wall. - - _Gwaine._ And what be that? - - _Dagonet._ Stand up while I blow thee down! - Art thou off now? - - _Gwaine._ Yea, till I find him. - - Tell the King Gwaine hath ta’en French leave, but he will come - again when he bringeth the best man ’i the Kingdom. - - Ho! without there! Fool, go ahead with that lanthorn. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE VII.--_Enter_ VIVIEN _and_ MORDRED. - - _Vivien._ Prince, and do you weaken now again? - - _Mordred._ Yea, Vivien, I have only half a heart - For this damned business. - - _Vivien._ ’Tis but a lack of manhood in thy blood, - That runs to water dwelling on puerile things, - Like parent-love and other sickly longings, - Forgotten with forgetting of the paps. - Now me, my memory knows no parentage - Save circumstance and mine own nimble wits. - ’Tis but our acts that build the bridge of fate - Across this perilous river men call life. - Some kneel and pray, trust some fond deity, - And build in fancy safety for themselves, - Then soon are churning ’mid the ravening flood. - Others do build them piers of solid stone, - Or use men’s bodies for to tread upon. - These get the surest over.--Hast seen the Queen? - - _Mordred._ Ha, that one name hath more to conjure with - Than all your sophistries, to my dark soul. - Yea, how I hate that woman! I am but - The hideous toad that poisons on her sight. - Though I may sense the glories of this earth - With all its wealth, the heaven o’er-bridged with stars, - And know love’s heights and depths, and pity’s well, - Brimming with pearls of tears and woman’s eyes; - I am but hideous Mordred after all. - - _Vivien._ Yea, in her eyes art hideous, not in mine. - - _Mordred._ Woman, thou liest! It were natural - To love the perfect shape and noble form, - The sunny face and splendid laughing eye; - But canst thou love the wry and gnarléd shape - And beetle-browed, night-shaded soul like mine? - I am a toad, a bat, a gnarléd stump. - These hideous in nature are my kin. - Woman, thou liest, when thou speakest of love! - - _Vivien._ Nay, Mordred, do not scorn me! Thou’rt a man - In more than mere out-seeming, ’tis thy fate - Thy whole grim spirit Vivien pitieth. - Would’st thou but love me, Vivien would be - Thy queen, thy slave, the ’venger of thy wrongs, - That call to heaven. - - _Mordred._ Nay, nay, it cannot be, thou wastest words. - I like thee least in this strange mood of thine. - Love is no word for Mordred, rather hate, - And thou wert made for plottings, not for joys. - Yea, we will marry in compact of ill, - And will beget as child, black, black revenge. - This is my mood. - - _Vivien._ Now thou art natural, there is much to do. - Our schemes o’er-reached, proud Arthur’s jealousy - As yet untouched, and Launcelot fled the Court - In some queer madness. How likest the conditions? - - _Mordred._ He must come back, I am a devil at root. - We’ll seethe him in the Queen’s despairs and sorrows. - I have a plan,--she giveth soon a feast - Of autumn fruits unto her favorite knights, - And I will go, although she hates my face, - For I misdoubt she fears me even now. - There is a joy to know, if thou art not loved, - That thou canst wield an influence over those - Who otherwise would pass thee by in scorn. - Well I do know a poison, subtle, sharp, - That when it bites it is the tooth of death. - This will I get inserted in some fruit, - And manage that one knight will eat of it, - Sir Patrise, brother unto that Sir Mador; - Who hates the Queen for that she scorned his love - And not being present will call for loud revenge - Upon his brother’s death ’gainst Guinevere - Proud Arthur, then, will call upon some knight - To prove her innocence upon the sword, - And her extremity makes Launcelot sane. - He will return, then I will trap him with her, - Set Arthur and Launcelot at bitter war, - And wrest the kingdom from their weakened hands. - This is my plot, now for the working of it. - Down all compunction! Mount all dark resolves! - Let me be Mordred inward as well as out, - All inky poison of soul, even that I, - Who’d trample others, must crush out myself. - - _Vivien._ Yea, Prince, indeed, ’tis seen thou hast a mind - Of subtle working fit to rule a King. - Thou wilt be greater than great Arthur yet, - When thou sittest in his place. - - _Mordred._ Nay woman, tantalize me not with hopes. - ’Tis not the splendid end that leads me on. - ’Tis but the getting there that Mordred loves. - The mood of one who’d trample on the flowers - In some fair garden whence he is excluded. - Here is the poison. That will be thy part - To get it hidden in the special fruit, - And get it fed unto the special man, - Whose snuffing out will pander to our end. - - _Vivien._ Give me the poison! - - _Mordred._ Here it is, this small pill, - So petty, but powerful. - ’Tis wondrous that this tiny polished globe, - Could hide betwixt the finger and the thumb, - Hath power to open the gateways of this world, - And in a sudden sleep dislodge a soul. - Hast thou an agent for to do this work? - - _Vivien._ Yea, that I have. - - _Mordred._ Not the fool again? - - _Vivien._ Yea, the fool! - - _Mordred._ See he doth this better than the last. ’Tis the more - perilous. Thinkest he will undertake it? - - _Vivien._ Yea, he will. - - _Mordred._ By what compulsion? - - _Vivien._ By that most powerful of all most powerful compulsions. - He loveth me. - - _Mordred._ And thou wilt use him, put him on the rack, - Which is thine influence? - - _Vivien._ See my little finger, he is as the yarn - That I may wind around it. - - _Mordred._ Thou art a Devil! Ho! Ho! Mordred hath mirth! - And this be life! Mordred hath mirth, yea, Vivien, mirth! - See woman that thou failest not, - Mordred is roused, it must be. - [_Exit_ MORDRED. - - _Vivien._ Ho! Ho! Thou art travelling my road at last. - I must haste from hence and find Dagonet. - - - SCENE VIII.--_Enter_ DAGONET. - - _Dagonet._ I’m but the ghost of mine old former self, - Who once a jester, am now but the jest - Of some outrageous fortune. Sleep hath fled, - My meat hath no more taste unto my mouth. - The wine but heavy lees within the cup. - I am so held in love for Vivien, - That I must end this foolish spark o’ life. - My heart leaps up for joy to see her face, - A silly joy, such as a child might have, - Loving some star for plaything, out of reach. - Oh what would I not do to even dare - To press the velvet of her dainty hand! - Back, down, poor foolish dreams! Now I must play - The frothy merriment of a world that’s grey. - - (_Sings._) - - There may be poison in the cup - But still the foam must cling. - To keep the strong world’s courage up - Poor fools must laugh and sing; - With sobs below and smiles above, - Amasking day by day, - On trampled, bleeding hopes of love. - So whirls the world away! - - There may be breaking of the heart - Though merry laughs the eye. - Still we poor fools must act our part, - And laugh, and weep, and die. - Still must we sportive battles wage, - With foam of lightsome breath, - While underneath the currents rage - And wrecks are churned to death. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN, DAGONET _starts_. - - _Vivien._ Thou growest grewsome, Dagonet; where hast lost thy - mirth? - - _Dagonet._ I know not, Vivien, I know not, belike I am a fool - indeed. Poor Dagonet is no more himself. - - _Vivien._ Poor Dagonet. - - _Dagonet._ Why not call me fool, dost thou pity me? - - _Vivien._ Yea, I do. - - _Dagonet._ And since when? - - _Vivien._ Since I knew that thou wert a man. - - _Dagonet._ Dagonet, the fool, a man? - - _Vivien._ Yea since I knew as thou couldst love indeed. - - _Dagonet._ That I love, Vivien, what knowest thou? - - _Vivien._ Yea, that thou hast a heart under thy mask. Yea, - more, for whom thou hast this feeling. Wouldst thou win her - grace? - - _Dagonet._ (_Falls on his knees._) Yea, yea, Vivien, for one - look, one smile. Oh Vivien, well thou knowest I am thy slave. - - _Vivien._ What would’st thou do for my love? - - _Dagonet._ Thou hast my heart bare in thy sight. Write on it - what characters thou likest, for I am thine. I tell thee I am - thy dog, thy slave. - - _Vivien._ Not dog, nor slave, but lover. (_Vivien holds out her - hand, Dagonet crawls near and takes it._) - - _Dagonet._ Oh Vivien, dost thou mean this? - - _Vivien._ Yea, in sooth I will try thy love. Would’st thou win - my love Dagonet? - - _Dagonet._ Dost thou mock me? - - _Vivien._ Nay. (_Takes a little box from her girdle and opens - it._) Dost see this pill? (_Leans near and whispers in his - ear. Dagonet starts back!_) Nay! nay! not that! - - _Vivien._ That or nought! - - _Dagonet._ Wouldst thou use me thus? - - _Vivien._ Thou art the man who’d win my love! I tell thee so - must all who’d love Vivien. - - _Dagonet._ Nay, nay, I must think. This is indeed death, death. - - _Vivien._ Yea, death or nought! I thought thou wert a man? - - _Dagonet._ For that reason am I now in hell. - - _Vivien._ (_Takes his hand._) Dagonet, dost thou love me? - - _Dagonet._ Oh God! Yea Vivien, give me the pill, I am not - myself any more. I am thine, I will do it. Vivien, thou wilt - not fail me? - - _Vivien._ See that thou dost not fail me, and be sure that thou - doest this well. - - _Dagonet._ I will. [_Exit_ VIVIEN - - _Dagonet._ At last Dagonet thou hast thy wish, and hast crossed - the barrier that separates comedy from dark tragedy. - Dagonet, now thou art a man! - Thou art pitied! Thou canst win love. - Thou canst snuff the candle out o’ a life. - Dost know thy features any more? And all for love! - - (_Sings._) - - O Love, that lights this world - Yet leaves us i’ the dark;-- - I led thee to my couch, - A grave-cloth was thy sark! - O Love, we would be clothed, - And thou hast left us stark. - - Yea, I am on fire. Snow! snow! Would I had snow to cool me. - Fool, thou art no more a fool. Dagonet, thou art a man! - Thou lovest. This must be done. (_Goes out._) - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT III. - - - SCENE I.--ARTHUR, MORDRED, DAGONET, _and Nobles_. - - _Enter the_ QUEEN _in great trouble_. - - _Enter_ KNIGHTS _bringing in a dead body and crying Treason! - Treason!_ - - (_The Queen takes her State._) - - _Arthur._ Who would accuse the Queen? - - _Sir Mador._ ’Tis I, my Liege. - - _Arthur._ What be the substance of thine accusation? - - _Sir Mador._ Murder! Sire, murder! most foul and treacherous! - - _Other Knights._ Yea, murder, foul and treacherous! - - _Arthur._ On whom? - - _Sir Mador._ On the body of this knight, my brother, Sir - Patrise, whom thou knowest to have been a courteous knight of - much steadfastness to thee and the Court. - - _Arthur._ It is most strange. Relate the circumstances. - - _Sir Mador._ ’Twas at the banquet, Sir King, where we all - invited of thy Queen, the Madam Guinevere, who sitteth there, - and after meat, she with much courtesy of seeming, did press - on us to partake of some fruit, the which on partaking of, - my brother, this dead knight, did fall in agony so extreme - and mortal, that his soul went out, and now he lieth as thou - see’st him. - - _Other Knights._ Yea, ’tis true, ’tis as he saith, a most foul - and damnable murder. - - _Arthur._ (_Turns to the queen._) Madam, what sayest thou to - this accusation? - - _Guin._ ’Tis a false foul lie. I am innocent of this deed. - - _Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Yea, ’tis true! - - _Arthur._ Thou see’st this dead knight here and these - witnesses, as I am King I must see justice, even against - thee. Hast thou no other defence to offer? - - _Guin._ Nay, my lord, as I am the Queen, ’tis a most damnable - lie. ’Fore Heaven, I am innocent of this strange murder. - - _Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Now is my soul in flames! - - _Sir Mador._ According to our ancient laws, when a guest dies - in this most suspicious manner, where proof of grievous - intent is present, the accused is condemned to be burnt at - the stake. - - _Guin._ Great Heaven! - - _Arthur._ ’Tis a foul punishment. - - _Sir Mador._ But for a foul crime. - - _Other Knights._ Yea, ’tis but justice. - - _Arthur._ There is also a trial. - - _Mordred._ Yea, Sire, the accused being a woman must have a - knight to prove her innocence by his body on the body of the - accuser ere the time of death be accomplished. - - _Arthur._ Then be it so. The law must follow on the weight of - these many witnesses. (_Turning to the Queen._) Guinevere, - Queen of Britain, I believe thee guiltless of the crime - whereof thou art accused, as thou hast said. As King I am - not free to prove thine innocence with my body, but as the - King, unless thou procurest a knight to assoil thee ere the - time appointed, I here condemn thee to be taken hence to a - place of public note and there be burnt to death, as the law - requireth. - - _Guin._ Oh Great Heaven! (_Falls in a swoon._) - - _Arthur._ Sir knight, art thou satisfied? - - _Sir Mador._ Yea, on my body. - - _Arthur._ Then clear the Court. [_Exit_ Knights. - Madam, this is the heaviest hour of all my life. - - _Guin._ (_Supported by her ladies._) Yea, my lord, thou wilt - save me? - - _Arthur._ That I will, in all justice. Ho, there, without! - - _Enter a_ Page. - - Bring me Sir Hake on the instant. (_Enter_ SIR HAKE.) - - _Arthur._ I command that this stern sentence on the body of - the noble Queen be proclaimed widely, and that messengers be - sent, on pain of death, to find Sir Gwaine and Sir Launcelot, - that if they be not procured here within the present month, - that the messengers pay the penalty with their bodies. - - _Sir Hake._ Yea Sire, it will be done. [_Exit._ - - _Arthur._ And thou, my Queen, retire to your apartments, I will - come shortly to you. Keep up thy heart, as thou art innocent - so will Heaven help thee. - - _Guin._ Yea, my Lord, thou wilt save me, as I am innocent. - - [_Exit_ GUINEVERE _and her_ ladies. - - _Arthur._ Ho, Page, bring wine, (_aside_) I would forget my sorrow. - Bring wine! I say, and send hither my fool! [_Exit_ Page. - - _Enter_ DAGONET. - - _Arthur._ Fool, I would forget my heaviness. Make me merry. - - _Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Oh God! (_To the King._) Yea, Sire, what - would’st thou have? - - _Arthur._ Some music. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, Sire. (_Sings._) - - Blue is the summer morning’s sky, - And birds are glad and merry. - And Anna’s eyes are sweet and sly, - Her cheeks like any cherry;-- - Her lips like dewy rosebuds are - Upon the gladsome morning. - She is my love, my heart’s glad star, - In spite of all her scorning. - - So fill the cup of gladness up - And drink to youth and morning. - Let sadness go with evening sup, - I’m hers for all her scorning. - - _Arthur._ Would I had thy merry heart, Fool. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, Sire! - - - SCENE II.--LAUNCELOT _discovered seated almost naked amid - swineherds_. - - (LAUNCELOT _sings_.) - - Once there was a castle hall, - Fair, fair to see, - Armored dight, and splendored all, - Filled with shout o’ revelry. - Came the hosts o’ fate and rage - Thundered on its walls amain. - Sunken now like ruined age, - Never laughs its light again. - I loved a Queen and she loved me. - Aye, that were long ago! - Come now wrack, come now woe, - Strike now lightning, beat now snow! - Memory, I’ll ha’ none o thee! - - Ha! ha! Cowards, who’ll fight? (_Rises_.) Ha! Ha! - - _Enter a_ Knight. - - _Knight._ Who be this? - - _1st Swineherd._ Him be mad though him hurt us not, for us be soft - wi’ him, him tend a’ swine. - - _2nd Swineherd._ Him mun fight, but us not answer. Him be o’er - hulk a man twa hanle a staff. - - _Laun._ Winds are cold and flowers are dead. All is past, past! - - _Knight._ Ho there, who be thou? - - _Laun._ ’Tis an old world, an old, old world. I tell thee truth, - I loved a Queen, but that be long past. - - _Knight._ His wits be dull.--Who art thou fellow? - - _Laun._ It hath been never Summer this many a year. Can’st tell - me why? - - _Knight._ ’Tis Summer now, thou Fool! - - _Laun._ Nay nay, ’tis but Winter. I loved a Queen---- - - _Knight._ Oh, damn thy Queen! who art thou? - - _Laun._ Yea, damn all Queens, I am with thee, Friend,--wilt thou - fight? - - _Knight._ Not with thee. - - _Laun._ Damn thee! thou wilt! - - _Knight._ I tell thee I won’t. - - _Laun._ Then damn thee! take that! (_Knocks him down._) - - _Knight._ Oh! oh! I am murdered! - - _Laun._ More! more! - - _Enter_ GWAINE. - - _Gwaine._ Ha, at last, it seemeth! - - _1st Swineherd._ Have care, Master! Him be dread. - - _Gwaine._ How long hath he been like this? - - _2nd Swineherd._ ’Tis some time agone. At first him did tear the - earth - An’ bite hisself, but him be better now. - - _Laun._ I chased the moon the silly moon, - Ahind a willard tree. - I knocked the stars like nine-pins down, - One, two, three. - I loved a Queen. Ha! ha! ’tis Winter. - - _Gwaine._ And this be he, the best o’ Arthur’s Court, - A ragged ninny, mouthing wanton froth, - The sport o’ pig-folk, this be love’s good work, - Oh Love! thou hast much to answer! - - _1st Swineherd._ Him want allus twa foight. - - _Gwaine._ Yea, he spoileth for a bout, ’tis often a right cure. - I will try it, God give it may bring him round. - (_To_ LAUNCELOT.) Ho there, Fellow! - - _Laun._ Ho thyself, Windbag. Thou hast a fine voice, Friend. - Can’st thou call back memory? - - _Gwaine._ Yea I can. - - _Laun._ Can’st thou find Spring time? I loved, I loved,-- - - _Gwaine._ Oh damn love--dost thou know me? - - _Laun._ Know thee? know thee? I know thou art a man. Wilt thou - fight, Friend? - - _Gwaine._ With a merry good will. - - _Laun._ Then lets to ’t. - - _Gwaine._ (_Takes a quarter staff, they fight hard and long._) - GWAINE _belabors_ LAUNCELOT _on the head, back and shoulders_. - - _Laun._ Ha, it raineth thoughts now. Come on Hell, come on. - - _Gwaine._ Yea, am I coming, (_Hits him harder._) If I beat that - damned love out o’ him I will do him a good deed. How’s that - and that? - - _Laun._ And that, and that. (_Both fight till exhausted._) - - _Gwaine._ Launcelot, dost know thyself now? - - _Laun._ Methinks I partly do, under a cloud. - - _Gwaine._ And dost thou know me? - - _Laun._ Methinks thou art the moon. - - _Gwaine._ Damn, this love! If I be the moon thou shalt find me - no honeymoon. (_Hits him again, they fight fiercer._) - - _Laun._ Come on, thou art welcome. Oh! - - _Gwaine._ Well, dost thou know me yet? - - _Laun._ Methinks thou art one named Gwaine. Oh my bones! - - _Gwaine._ Be this Winter? - - _Laun._ I be warm now. - - _Gwaine._ An dost thou love a Queen? - - _Laun._ What mean’st thou? - - _Gwaine._ I would rid thee of this damned love. - - _Laun._ Then wouldst thou rid me of this life. Gwaine, thou art - a noble soul, but thou can’st not do that. - - _Gwaine._ Art thou thyself now? - - _Laun._ Methinks I am--Yea I have been mad. - - _Gwaine._ Yea and I have cured thee. Come, this be no place. - Let us go. - - [_Exit both._ - - - SCENE III.--_Another part of the forest._--LAUNCELOT and GWAINE. - - _Gwaine._ Launcelot, thou art a fool. Thou art the King’s man, - and the best. Thou hast an arm and a sword on it. Thou must - come. I will no longer here. - - _Laun._ I may not, this hurt be too deep. - - _Gwaine._ Damn thy hurt, man! thou art sound as I. - - _Laun._ ’Tis a deep hurt, Launcelot fights no more. Here will I - die. - - _Gwaine._ Better go a Monk, thou art a fool, Man. This love is - a girl’s folly. Fighting is a man’s trade and his sword his - true mistress. Gwaine will have no other. Come, thou art not - dead yet. - - _Laun._ Aye Gwaine thou wastest words, Launcelot is ended. - - _Gwaine._ Damn thee! I gave my word I would bring thee, will I - have to go foresworn else carry thee on my back. Have I cured - thy madness but for this? - - _Laun._ Nay, nay, make peace best thou canst. Thou art a good - fellow, but I cannot. Launcelot will die here. - - _Gwaine._ I say, damn thee, thou shalt come! - - _Laun._ Thou liest! (_Both spring to their feet and draw._) - (_Trumpets without._) (_Enter the_ KING’S Messengers.) - - _Gwaine._ Who comes? - - _Mess._ From the King. - - _Gwaine._ What want ye? - - _Mess._ We seek two knights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Gwaine. - - _Gwaine._ We be thy men--what be thy message? - - _Mess._ The King desireth thee in great haste, the Queen be in - great peril. - - _Laun._ Nay! - - _Mess._ Yea, of her life. She be condemned to the stake if a - knight assoil her not with his body on her accuser tomorrow - noon. - - _Laun._ Dread Heaven! - - _Gwaine._ What be the accusation? - - _Mess._ Murder on the body of Sir Patrise. - - _Laun._ Enough! hast thou brought horses? - - _Mess._ Yea. - - _Laun._ Then quick! on your lives! lead us hence! - - [_Exit_ LAUNCELOT and Messengers. - - _Gwaine._ The foul fiend take this love! It be a queer sickness - indeed. Anon it made him like to luke water, and now he be - all fire. It bloweth now up now down, like the wind i’ a - chimney. Yea I love that man like a father his child. There - is no sword like to his i’ the whole kingdom. An’ a wench - that be a queen leadeth him like a goss-hawk. (_Voices - without._) - - Yea, I am coming. [_Exit._ - - - SCENE IV.--(_Enter_ Court-ushers _with trumpets_, Soldiers _and - _Knights. _Enter the_ KING: _takes his State. Enter the_ QUEEN _in - a black robe surrounded by her_ Women, _comes to the foot of the - Throne, falls on her face_.) - - _Guin._ Arthur, thou wilt save me? - - _Arthur._ My Queen, as the king I may not. My heart is hell. - Put thy trust in Heaven. - - _Guin._ ’Tis a dread death. - - _Arthur._ Madam, could Arthur save thee he would. If thou diest - so doth my joy in this world--keep thy heart. - - _Guin._ ’Fore God, I am innocent. - - _Arthur._ Thou must trust to Heaven. - - _Guin._ That I do. (_Rises and takes her state._) - - _Court Chamberlain._ Guinevere, Queen of Britain, of this dread - crime whereof thou art accused what hast thou to say? - - _Guin._ (_Rises._) That I Guinevere, Queen of Britain, am - innocent of this most foul charge of which I am here accused, - and here call on Heaven to prove on the body of that foul - knight mine accuser. - - Marshalls _enter and trumpets are blown_. - - _Court-Chamberlain._ Doth no knight assoil the Queen? - - _Guin._ Heaven help me! - - _Arthur._ Do no knights approach? - - _Page._ Nay, Sire. - - _Arthur._ Then has the hour of my life’s sorrow come. - - _Enter_ SIR MADOR _doffs to the_ KING. - - _Sir Mador._ Sire, the time hath almost passed and I demand a - knight to do no battle, or that the Queen be burnt. - - _Guin._ (_Aside._) Merciful Heaven! - - _Arthur._ (_To the_ Page.) Do none come? - - _Page._ Nay, Sire. - - _Dagonet._ Were I not bound to Vivien body and soul, I would - state the truth. Nay I am accursed. There is but one way. - (_Staggers to the front of the throne the throng presses back - in wonder._) - - _Dagonet._ (_Kneels._) Sire! - - _Arthur._ (_In voice of thunder._) Well fool? - - _Dagonet._ Didst thou not once make me a knight? - - _Arthur._ Yea, in a moment of jest. - - _Dagonet._ Then would I take this gage! - - _Guin._ Nay, nay, death, death, but not this insult! - What base knight of this court hath prompted this? - - _Dagonet._ None, none my Lady, ’tis my wish. - - _Arthur._ Take him out! Now is Arthur shamed! - - Knights _hurry_ DAGONET _out_. - - _Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Now is Hell indeed my portion. - - _Guin._ Sire, I would now die. - - _Arthur._ Yea, my Queen, so would Arthur. - - _Sir Mador._ Sire, the time be up. And, I, as the accuser, now - ask that thou, as King, wilt command that Guinevere, Queen of - Britain, who standeth there, be taken from hence and burnt - till she be dead. - - _A commotion without_, LAUNCELOT _rushes in draws and faces_ SIR MADOR. - - _Laun._ And I say, nay! - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE V.--_Enter_ MORDRED. - - _Mordred._ Now cursed be the womb that gave me birth! - Thrice cursed be the paps that gave me suck! - That I but made for hellish plots and hates, - And inky thoughts and moods and black despairs, - The most unhappy man in this dread world, - Should house in me a dream of womanhood - Such as doth dwell in all the milk-white glory - And glamored stateliness of Arthur’s Queen. - Yea would I now forego all I hold dear - In this life and the next, if such there be, - My chance of Heaven thrust to darkest Hell, - One hour like Launcelot to know her love. - Hell! Hell! I laugh at Hell, such flames I burn - Would scorch the northern ice-seas in their beds. - So deep a hell I hold me in my thoughts - Of madness for her love.--Yea I am turned - A very subtle Satan that will plot - High Arthur’s downfall, Launcelot’s banishment, - And all the ruin of this present kingdom. - Yea, I will be a King and perch a crown - In its unsteady poisings on this brow, - So that by very glamor of my power - And inner majesty of mine iron soul, - I build in her a fancy for my person. - For I am Mordred, in this hour I’m great - In subtle cunning far beyond these days - Of mere brute strength and stature physical.-- - Yea I was born upon an evil time - Of evil parentage of sin and shame - Thrice cursed in the inner soul and form, - What sportive fate gave me the gifts I bear? - But I am willed to use them to my use. - Yea I will use all deviltries and lies, - All plots and counter-plots to gain mine end. - This misbegotten now doth hold the key - To this doomed kingdom. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN. - - We are well met. Thou art upon the hour. - The plot grows closer to our waited end. - The net is weaving closer mesh by mesh - That traps the leopard and the lioness. - I have by long connivance, secret planned, - Built round me many knights who hold my weal, - Jealous of Launcelot and Arthur’s glory. - These will be with me when the stroke comes down. - A thousand swords will leap their scabbard mouths - At shout of Mordred! Yea a thousand throats - Will cry me King when my fate topples Arthur. - - _Vivien._ Now art thyself, this be thy natural mood. - Yea Mordred when thou kingest it, there will be - A splendid thraldom to true kingliness. - For thou wilt sink a terror in men’s hearts - Of King’s prerogatives will make them fear - The very sound and rumor of thy name. - And there will go before thee waves of will - Presaging thunders of thy royal coming. - But wilt thou then, my Lord, remember Vivien, - When thou dost come unto thy royalty, - Her who did place thy footsteps in the way - That led thee to these gateways of success, - And bade thee trample on thy youthful fears, - And doubts and milksop fancies of the mind, - And gave into thy hand an iron mace, - And bade thee use it? Wilt thou think on her, - The only one who loved thee for thyself, - The single soul that knew thee in the dark, - And loved thee for thy nobler qualities? - - _Mordred._ What wouldst thou have me promise? - - _Vivien._ I would be a Queen! - - _Mordred._ Ha! thou climbest high! - Be careful or thy stairway - In toppling over carry thee to Hell. (_Aside._) - This be her trend I must match cunning with cunning, - And tie this serpent in her venomed coils. - Were she a man, I would admire her much, - But not as woman! She be Mordred’s Queen, - When Queen of women there be one Guinevere! - (_To_ VIVIEN) When I am King thou wouldst then be the Queen? - ’Tis a daring thought! - - _Vivien._ Not more than that thou bearest, - That Mordred, squat and monster, lorn, despised, - Misgotten, friendless save to such as me, - Should rise in dreams to heights of Arthur’s glory, - And even lust to bed with Guinevere. - - _Mordred._ What now? Thou devil! - - _Vivien._ Ha! Now I stabbed thy longings to the quick, - And probed thine ink-heart.--Thou dost love the Queen, - Thou, who doth dwell so far below her scorn! - - _Mordred._ Witch-hag or Devil! Wert thou but a man, - And I would quickly send thee to that hell - Where thou belongest. - - _Vivien._ Nay, I fear thee not. - I am too much a part of all thy plans - For thee to quarrel with. Stab me and thou stabbest - The life of all thy longings. Let my blood, - And with it flows the making of thy dreams. - - Mordred. (_Aside._) ’Tis as she says. She’s woven in my web - And I must keep her, devil though she be. - Yea, Mordred! Mordred! (_To_ VIVIEN.) - Vivien thou art hasty, - In dreaming Mordred would do thee an evil. - ’Twas but the sudden mantling of the blood. - Yea, I indeed do owe thee overmuch, - And Mordred will pay thee with what gratitude - Of words and acts as such as he possesses. - Yea, when my mind dwells on the what I was, - And that which I now am, an admiration - Sudden and great, comes o’er me at the change, - And the swift transformation thou hast made. - Thou took’st a youth from out his sickly longings, - Vague undefined with musings on this world, - And sick with evil of a shadowed fate, - Dried up his kindness, showed him he was iron, - And gave the keys of cruelty to his hand - Wherewith to pick the lock of this poor kingdom. - Yea, I am wrapt in admiration vast. - Then I would shudder did an evil thought, - Wandering vaguely through my caverned mind, - But stop and grin me. Now it seems mine act - Would neck and neck with Hell’s most foul desire. - Yea, thou hast right in pride of workmanship - In building from material thou hadst - So deft a moulded villain to thy hand. - Yea, Vivien, fear not Mordred will forget, - When every waking moment on his bed, - And every devil knocking on his sill, - Mindeth him of cause for gratitude. - - _Vivien._ Wilt thou promise? - - _Mordred._ Nay, I will never promise! - What right have I for pledges in this world, - Save pledge that I will topple all to ruin. - This give I Fate, as sure as I am Mordred. - I tell thee, Woman, I am thy slave no more, - Nor slave to any, be it man or devil. - - _Vivien._ What art thou then? - - _Mordred._ I am thy master. Thou wilt be my slave, - Thou cunning plotter, schemer to my hand, - To be my dagger, poison, flaming brand, - My very slave, convenience, creature, tool; - And if thou art not, I’ll trample, trample thee. - I tell thee I will thrust this kingship out; - Will spin these actors round my crooked thumb, - Until this devil Mordred walketh king. - Little didst thou dream, what demon thou wert raising, - When thou didst conjure Mordred. - - _Vivien._ Darest thou me? - - _Mordred._ Yea, look into my glass and ask thyself, - What Mordred hath in life to hope or fear? - But I do tell thee, Woman, Mordred in hell - Will be no tortured creature spinning round, - But himself the very devil. - To show my power of evilment, I tell thee, - I know thy fatal liking for myself. - ’Tis the one part of thee that now can suffer, - The only part of thee that holdeth good. - - _Vivien._ Nay, I will not hearken. - - _Mordred_ (_Seizes her wrist._) I’ll bind thee on the rack as thou - hast me, - Or rather finding me there, stretched my sorrows, - And show thee all the devil thou hast roused. - Then hear me, I do scorn that love of thine; - Do trample on, despise, as I do thee! - - _Vivien._ (_Falls on her face._) Nay Mordred, thou breakest my - heart, - Nay, curse me not. - - _Mordred._ Yea, ask the rack for mercy when it racks, - Or seek for honey in the aspick’s sting! - Yea, more, I tell thee plainly to thy face, - Guinevere makes hell within my breast, - And thou, my slave, wilt help me to her arms. - - _Vivien._ One little smile, one little word of peace. - - _Mordred._ Nay, silence, or a curse! Wilt thou do this? - - _Vivien._ Thou knowest I will, let me but touch thy hand! - Trampled on, despised, I love thee still. - - _Mordred._ Now to the point, Launcelot goes this night - To secret assignation with the Queen, - This saving of her life hath patched their quarrel, - And thou must find for me the hour of meeting, - Must intercept the trusted messenger, - And bring me secret knowledge of the time. - I go now with some knights unto the King, - To force his leave for this our undertaking, - And put their secret love to open shame. - Thou must watch near the apartments of the Queen, - And take by fraud or force knowledge of the hour, - And bring it to my ears with thy best speed. - - _Vivien._ Yea, I will. [_Exit_ MORDRED. - He hath read true, I am his slave at last, - Aye, what a splendid devil he doth make, - There is no man like him in all this world. - I’ll see him crowned, climb he there o’er my body. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE VI.--_An audience room in the Castle. Enter_ MORDRED, SIR - AGRAVAINE _and other_ Knights. - - _Mordred._ ’Tis a delicate business we be come upon, - Though one of grave importance, therefore I - Will stand i’ the background, thou Sir Agravaine, - Being a kinsman not o’ the sinister side, - May speak the plainer. Let it fall on me. - Yea, I will answer with my body here. - - _Sir Ag._ Yea, I will put it plainly to the King, - And show the evil placed upon our house, - And that foul insult tendered King and kingdom, - By overbearing Launcelot and the Queen. - - _Other Knights._ Yea, we are with you. - - _Enter a_ Page. - - _Sir Ag._ We would see the King. - - _Exit_ Page, _enter_ ARTHUR. - - _Arthur._ What means this sudden assembling of knights - At this strange hour? - - _Sir Ag._ We would bring a matter to thy hearing, King, - Of grave import unto thyself and us - Of thine own household, who’d uphold thy pride. - Yea, one affecting the dignity of this land. - - _Arthur._ What be this matter? - - _Sir Ag._ The matter is one which toucheth thine own honor, - And hath to do with Launcelot and the Queen. - - _Arthur._ Dost thou insult thy King? (_Draws._) - - _Sir Ag._ Nay, thou dost insult thyself and us, - Doth thou not listen! - - _Other Knights._ Yea, King, ’tis true. - - _Arthur._ ’Tis treason, damnable treason ’gainst my Queen, - ’Gainst myself and ’gainst this noble kingdom. - - _Sir Ag._ Wilt thou hear me, King? - - _Other Knights._ Yea, hear him. - - _Arthur._ Then I will hear thee further, but ’tis plain, - You prove this on your bodies to the death. - If this strange lie be not as true as Heaven, - Each man who thinks this damnéd treason dies! - - _Knights._ ’Tis just King, we will prove it on our bodies. - - _Sir Ag._ We think, Lord Arthur, thou art over-blind - To certain things that compromise thine honor, - And some of us have reason to suspect - Sir Launcelot holdeth commerce with the Queen. - - _Arthur._ Stop! Catiff! - - _Sir Ag._ Wilt thou not hear it? - - _Arthur._ Have ye forgotten that my name is Arthur? - Or is this nobleness a vanished dream? - ’Tis damnable! - - _Sir Ag._ We would prove this same upon our bodies, - By taking of them in the very act. - - _Arthur._ No more! by heaven, no more! I say, no more! - Or by my crown, I’ll cleave thy catiff tongue, - And spatter thine evil brains on yonder pavement, - That dared impeach my royalty of such dis-honor. - - _Sir Ag._ Nay, King, we will die for the truth of this matter. - - _Knights._ Yea, Lord Arthur, we are so prepared. - - _Arthur._ Nay, ye are mad, blind, besotted mad. - - _Sir Ag._ Nay, King, here is Sir Mordred who will show - The truth whereof we speak. [MORDRED _comes forward_. - - _Arthur._ Ha! And it is thou that art at the bottom o’ this - matter! - - _Mordred._ Sire, I would but do my duty to this kingdom, - And to the honor of your kingly place. - Sir Agravaine is over-blunt in speech, - And speaketh sudden on a cruel matter; - Yet he hath but the right in this grave question, - Nor doth dishonor thee in this respect - More than do any of these royal knights, - But rather would show wherein thine honor lieth. - If dishonor lies therein, it doth not lie - On them who’d prove the evilment suspected, - But rather on those who by their treasonable act - Hath brought this shame upon us. It would seem - That thou dost love Sir Launcelot even more - Than the unsullied honor of thy Queen. - - _Arthur._ Nay! Speak no more! Thou hast insulted Arthur. - If but one thousandth part of this be true, - Then is great Arthur’s glory brought to ground. - - _Mordred._ Sire! - - _Arthur._ No more of words! What wouldst thou have me do? - - _Mordred._ Sire, we would that thou give the opportunity - To prove the cruel substance of our coming - By taking the doers in the very act, - And trapping Launcelot in the Queen’s apartment. - - _Arthur._ Go on! Death! Speak on! Accursed me! - - _Mordred._ If thou wilt go abroad this coming night, - And advertise thy going, and grant to us - Sufficient knights to make the matter proof, - We will fulfil this matter with our lives. - - _Knights._ We will. - - _Arthur._ And it hath come to this! - - _Mordred._ Sire, wilt thou grant this? - - _Arthur._ Yea, I will grant it, but by Arthur’s honor, - The knight returning from such vile ambushment - Without full proof unto the open world - Of that which spills the sea of Arthur’s glory, - Shall die the foulest death this kingdom lends! - On this condition only do you go. - - _Mordred._ Yea, we accept the conditions. - - _Knights._ Yea, we do. [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE VII.--_A passage near the Queen’s apartments._ - - _Enter_ VIVIEN. - - _Vivien._ Now slave but do the bidding of thy master, - And soon the boding hour will draw anigh - When Guinevere will queen a royal hunch-back. - Now serve me well my wits until I play - The issue of this matter to my mind. - [_Retires into an alcove._ - - _Enter_ UNID _the_ QUEEN’S Maid, _with a ring_. - - Now drat that page! What can the matter be? - This ring must go but who will be the bearer, - It bothereth me to discover? - - [_Passes out on left._ - - _Enter_ DAGONET _on right_. - - _Dagonet._ O me! me! me! that ever I did that deed. - (_To spirit._) Nay! nay! Spirit, come not here! - Hide, hide that woeful face. Sleep, sleep - Quiet ’i the grave! Dagonet meant it not. - Ha! ha! I’ll laugh and be merry. ’Tis but my wits. - I’ll think on Vivien.--Nay, nay, not that face! - I slew thee not. Away! away! - ’Tis but a fancy, but it lifts the hair - In frosty bristles, makes the eyeballs stare, - And turns me to a horror. Away! Away! - - _Re-enter_ Maid. - - What play is now, Sir Fool, that thy wit playeth? - - _Dagonet._ Oh! ’tis thou! - - _Unid._ ’Tis said that thou art looking at the Queen, - And wouldst oust Sir Launcelot. Thou art a bold fool. - - _Dagonet._ Nay, nay, ’tis thou sweet Unid rendeth my heart. - - _Unid._ Now art thou a kind fool. - - _Dagonet._ Is the Queen within? - - _Unid._ She sleepeth. - - _Dagonet._ I will sing thee a song. (_Sings._) - - It rose upon the month o’ May, - When woods were filled with laughter, - Came Margery tripping up the way, - And Jock a stealing after. - (_To spirit._) Away! away! - - It rose in Autumn’s afternoon - When love was dead and laughter, - That Jock went striding ’neath the moon, - And Margery pining after. - (_To spirit._) Away! I say, away! - - _Unid._ Well acted, Fool, and well sung. - - _Dagonet._ Yea, it is a part of me. - - _Unid._ (_Aside_) He will do. (_To_ DAGONET) Fool, wilt thou - deliver a message for me? - - _Dagonet._ Yea, by my love. - - _Unid._ It be a pressing business, and a private one. - [_Speaks in a low voice._ - Thou seest this ring. It is the Queen’s. Thou needs must find - Sir Launcelot, and deliver it to him privately and say! “This - night afore midnight.” - - _Dagonet._ What doth it mean? - - _Unid._ It meaneth, do thy part, and shut thy ears and mouth, - and put a padlock on thine inward thoughts. Wilt thou do it? - - _Dagonet._ Yea that I will, ’tis for the Queen, (_to spirit_) - Away! away! Haunt me not! - - _Unid._ What aileth thee? - - _Dagonet._ Did I speak? - - _Unid._ Thou spokest as to someone. - - _Dagonet._ ’Tis but an infirmity. - - _Unid._ ’Tis a queer one. Thou wilt be speedy and private? - - _Dagonet._ That I will. Not one kiss? - - _Unid._ Away! away! Haunt me not. - [_Exit._ - - [VIVIEN _comes from the alcove_. - - _Vivien._ Ha! thou false lover! - - [DAGONET _drops the ring_. - - _Dagonet._ ’Tis thou! - - _Vivien._ Caught in the act, soft words and lovers songs, - And rings exchanged, and even kisses proffered. Thou - Double-Dealer! Thou wouldst seek my love? - - _Dagonet._ I tell thee thou art wrong. ’Tis the appearances are - at fault. - - _Vivien._ Thou liest! Didst thou not offer to buss her? - - _Dagonet._ ’Twas but a sally to cover mine inward thoughts. - - _Vivien._ Thou liest again. What were those low words she - spake, when she took thy hand? - - _Dagonet._ ’Twas but a message she gave me on a private matter. - - _Vivien._ Oh! oh! very private! Dagonet, very private! - - _Dagonet._ I cannot tell thee of its import. - - _Vivien._ Nay, thou canst not, for thou liest. - - _Dagonet._ I tell thee, Vivien, thou wilt madden me. - I tell thee, I love thee only, and thou knowest it. - - _Vivien._ What was the substance of that message? - - _Dagonet._ If thou must have it, and thou draggest my heart - out, it was from the Queen. The words, “tonight afore - midnight.” - - _Vivien._ A true story! To thee? - - _Dagonet._ Nay, to Sir Launcelot. - - _Vivien._ Thou liest! Canst thou explain that ring she gave - thee? (_Picks it up._) - - _Dagonet._ ’Tis the Queen’s. - - _Vivien._ Ho! ho! And thou the trusted messenger! ’Tis a likely - story. Wouldst have me believe it? - - _Dagonet._ Vivien, I tell thee that I love thee, and am in Hell - for thee, aye, in Hell! - - _Vivien._ Thou forgettest thine important message, thou most - trusted lover and messenger. - - _Dagonet._ Vivien, wilt thou not believe me? - - _Vivien._ Go, go, I tell thee, I will see thee again. - - [_Exit_ DAGONET. - - _Vivien._ Now cometh the hour when my revenge approacheth, - Now winds my web about doomed Camelot, - An angered fate hangs o’er these castle walls. - There will be bloody deeds abroad tonight. - Rise Spirits of old vengence and affright! - Vivien conquereth. Wait! wait! [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT IV. - - - SCENE I.--(_Rise outer curtain._) _Passage near the_ QUEEN’S - _apartments. Enter_ DAGONET. - - _Dagonet._ ’Tis little I can do, but I will mend - The devilment that I have helped to cause. - Hark, now they come! Here will I take my stand. - ’Tis over my dead body when they come, - That they’ll come at her. Ho! stand without! - - (_Sounds heard without. Enter_ MORDRED, SIR AGRAVAINE _and other_ - Knights _with torches and naked swords_. DAGONET _draws_.) - - Where go you, Masters? - - _Mordred._ We go this road, ’ware how you stop our way. - - _Dagonet._ The man who goes this road goes o’er my body. - - _Sir Ag._ Louse! take that! (_Stabs_ DAGONET, _he falls_.) - - _Mordred._ ’Tis the King’s jester. - - _Dagonet._ You have leeched my folly. Now is the jest ended. - Vivien! (_Dies._) - - _A Knight._ He was a man after all. - - _Mordred._ Onward Knights to better game than this, - Though little we know the tragedy that ended - When yon poor light went out! Come this way! - - [_Exit all._ - - (_Rise inner curtain._) _The_ QUEEN’S _apartment_, LAUNCELOT _and_ - GUINEVERE. - - _Laun._ I come this night to bid you a long farewell, - Before I leave this kingdom’s shores for ever. - This love doth hold me in a demon’s grasp, - And my heart breaks to feel great Arthur’s love, - And all the time we twain be meeting thus. - - _Guin._ Nay, nay Launcelot, leave me not forlorn, - I cannot live without thee. Thy strong arms, - And thy warm kisses are to me the one - Fair garden springing on this drearsome earth. - - _Laun._ Lady I must go. My lands in France, - Tribute to my sword, I’ll make a kingdom. - And pass my days in memories of thee. - - _Guin._ Nay, nay thou wilt not go, and if thou must, - My heart will bleed for thee until my death. - - _Unid._ (_Hurrying in._) Madam, there is treason without. - Many arméd knights do come this way. - - _Laun._ Now is the end come I have long expected, - The grim fatality of all my fears, - The nightmare real at last. Quick! my Sweet! - Kiss me your latest now. This is my death! - - _Guin._ Launcelot, save, save thyself, - I will bar them with my body here. - They will but trample a dead, dishonored Queen, - Whom brute fatality made its passing sport. - Quick! that way! - - _Laun._ Nay, nay, sweet Love, but I will die with thee. - And show great love can make a greater death. - (_Draws._) Would to God I had mine armour. - - (_Loud knocking heard at the door and the voice of_ MORDRED _heard - without_.) - - Come out thou traitor Launcelot and show the world - The face of him who hath dishonored Arthur. - Come out thou Traitor. - - _Guin._ Launcelot save thyself, there is time yet. - - _Laun._ Nay, Love, I’ll end me here, if be my fate. - Ho! Cowards without! I am a single man, - Devoid of armour having but my sword, - Yet will I open and give you Hell’s glad welcome. - - (_Unbars the door_, SIR AGRAVAINE _rushes in._) - - _Laun._ Die Hound! (_Brains him_.) LAUNCELOT _drags him aside and - bars the door_. - Quick! Help me to this armour! (_Takes the arms from_ SIR - AGRAVAINE’S _body, and arms himself_.) - - _Guin._ (_Helping him._) Aye, Love, if prayers are aught, will - mine clothe thee. - - (_Voices outside._) Open up! Traitor! open up! - - _Guin._ Great God, Great God, help this poor Queen who prays! - (LAUNCELOT _buckles his armour_.) - - _Laun._ Now am I ready, fare thee well, sweet Love. - Whatever haps, and we may meet no more, - This side of darkness; carry to thy grave, - That Launcelot loved thee, thee, and only thee. - - _Guin._ Oh, Launcelot, my heart breaks. (_They embrace, the_ QUEEN - _faints_.) (LAUNCELOT _to the maids_.) Take her back from this, - protect her, keep her safe. - - This work is not for her sweet presence. Now heaven help - The man that meeteth Launcelot’s blade this night! - - (_Voices without_.) Coward! Traitor! wilt thou open up? - - _Laun._ Yea, Traitors who foreswore the name of knight, - When like some drunken rabble ye polluted - The gentle sacredness of these apartments. - And every man who shamed her ears tonight - (_Throws open the doors_) shall die! die! die! Come on Devils! - (_They rush in and then fall back in surprise._) - - _Laun._ Ha! ha! here’s wine that Launcelot’s blade would drink. - Die, Devils! (_Rushes forward hacking fiercely with his - sword, twelve knights fall one after the other._) - - _Mordred._ God of Heaven, let us back! This man be mad! - (_Retreats with four knights_, LAUNCELOT _slays the rest_.) - - _Laun._ Come on, ye Fiends of Hell! I’ll back me here, - Launcelot is a man of honour! - - - SCENE II.--SIR LAUNCELOT’S _apartment, midnight. Enter several_ - Knights _with torches and swords_. - - _Sir Ban._ Hello there! wake up! - - _Knights._ Hello! Within! Within! (_Loud knocking heard at the - doors. Enter several other knights. Enter_ SIR LAUNCELOT.) - - _Laun._ What means this that ye be armed? - - _Sir Ban._ Strange horrors woke us frozen from our beds. - Hideous nightmares beset us. Some heard moanings, some that - grave-bells rang, and others saw strange spectres, and I - myself heard clash of mighty arms, and quick each man found - himself leaped from his bed, naked blade in hand. What may it - portend? We be much affrighted! - - _Laun._ ’Tis a true portent. Now the end hath come - Of peace and happiness for this dooméd kingdom. - To-night on private meeting with the Queen, - In her apartments, there was I surrounded, - And hounded traitor, slew so many knights, - There’s scarce one left to tell the King the story. - - _Knights._ A most foul and dastard attack! The kingdom is - doomed. - - _Enter a_ Messenger. - - _Laun._ The Queen! quick! the Queen! what of her? - - _Mess._ An order hath come in the King’s name; - She is to be burnt tomorrow noon. - - _Laun._ Never! by my blade, she shall not die! - - _Knights._ She shall not! she shall not! on our lives! - - - SCENE III.--_The_ KING’S _lodge in the forest_. ARTHUR _walking - back and forth_. - - _Arthur._ Would I had not done this! Heaven this hour - Be kind to this poor king, suspend thy wrath. - For my past frailties judge me not too heavy. - Oh, were it dawning! Nay if it be shame, - Night roll for ever round your shrouding glooms, - Hide Arthur’s woe in your convenient black. - Rise not, O, pitiless Day with searching white, - Showing abroad catastrophe and doom. - Hark ’tis the messenger. Now my royal soul, - Is it black or white, is it death or life to thee? - - (_Enter Messenger._) Sire! - - _Arthur._ Speak! Is it calamity? - - _Mess._ Yea, Sire, it is calamity, Sir Launcelot ta’en,-- - - _Arthur._ In the Queen’s chamber? - - _Mess._ Yea, Sire. - - _Arthur._ Then sable Night shut out the morning now. - O, Blackness, bury Arthur in thy shroud! - O, Calamities pelt, pelt your fire! - Sink now, proud Arthur, sink to rise no more. - - _Enter_ MORDRED _and two_ KNIGHTS. - - _Mordred._ We bring you evil news in sorry haste. - Launcelot ta’en by us in the Queen’s apartments, - When we, hailing him traitor, would bring him out, - Then he mad with a devil did issue forth, - And slay the most of us, so that we are scarce fled with our lives, - As these two knights do witness. - - _Knights._ ’Tis true, King. - - _Arthur._ Murder and Treason walk abroad this night. - Adultery and Incest leave their graves. - Arthur, Arthur thou art a king no more! - - _Mordred._ We would arrest the Queen, did we know thy will. - - _Arthur._ O, Night! Night! Night! - - _Mordred._ ’Tis not an hour for grief and memories, Sire, - But action, instant action, is the word, - If thou wouldst keep thy kingdom. Sir Launcelot knoweth - That thou wert privy to this heavy matter, - And swearing direst vengeance on us all, - Buildeth a party for to help the Queen, - And oust thee from thy royalty. - - _Arthur._ Dost thou not know I loved this Launcelot. - And had I chosen a brother or a son - It had been Launcelot! Oh thou cruel World! - Thou hast no cloud of evils brooding dire, - So much hath rained. Mordred take my crown, - To illegitimacy pass my glory now. - - _Mordred._ Nay Sire! but be a king until thou takest - A King’s dread vengeance on thine enemies. - - _Arthur._ Enemies thou sayest. Who so low, - To stoop to hate this cuckold, shaméd king. - I am a king no more, my Table Round - Is but a stall-yard where the swine of men - Will rend and snarl and tear my glory down. - - _Enter_ GWAINE. - - _Gwaine._ This is a bad and foolish matter, King, - And thou wert fool to fetch it to an issue. - But now thou makest bad worse. Didst thou send out - For Launcelot’s arrest and the Queen’s murder? - - _Mordred._ The order hath gone out in the King’s name. - ’Tis gone too far for compromises now. - - _Gwaine._ ’Tis thou hast done all this, thou Plotter! - - _Mordred._ Thou liest! ’Tis but the natural end of circumstance - that worked its issue. I tell thee, the King ordered this. - - _Gwaine._ King, didst thou give these orders? - - _Arthur._ Gwaine thy words were ever over-blunt, - But now they’re fitting. None need show me reverence. - - _Gwaine._ Know I not reverence, but I would of facts. - Didst thou proclaim that Guinevere should die - Being found of treason foul against thy person, - And doom her to the stake tomorrow noon? - - _Arthur._ The Queen! the queen! thou sayest, I’ll have no queens! - If there be a Queen tomorrow in this land, - She shall die the death! ’tis the King’s word! - - _Mordred._ Now thou hast thine answer. - - _Gwaine._ Then fear Sir Launcelot’s hate and split this kingdom, - Topple yonder King and bring him down, - As thou wouldst love to. Gwaine will none o’ this. - The Pope shall hear it! What’s a woman worth! - That truth, or untruth, she should wreck a kingdom? - - _Enter a_ Messenger _in haste_. - - _Mordred._ Speak! - - _Mess._ Sir Launcelot and many Knights have rescued the Queen - and have taken her to Joyeous Guarde, and in the quick - struggle Sir Gareth, and Sir Lynnette were slain. - - _Arthur._ More woes! More woes! Where will this end? - - _Mordred._ (_To_ SIR GWAINE.) Now art thou satisfied? - - _Gwaine._ (_To_ MESS.) What! Thou liest! tell me my brothers be - slain? - - _Mess._ ’Tis true, Master, mine own eyes saw them dead. - - _Gwaine._ Hell! who did the deed? - - _Mess._ Sir Launcelot himself. He rode quick i’ the Court And - lighted and hacked without looking at whom he met, to reach - the Queen, whom bearing to horse, he stayed not to see who - were dead or wounded but straight rode away. - - _Gwaine._ This world or the next, he will answer me! - Hell! mine own two brothers, and all for a damned wench! - Queen or no, King, thou shalt answer here. - Yea, all shall answer for this damnèd business. - - _Mordred._ Yea, I will help thee. ’Twas most unnatural, - Who never harmed him, he should serve them so. - - _Gwaine._ Launcelot, Launcelot, now I cast thee out, - One world won’t hold us! - - _Mordred._ This works my way. O World, thou art moulding swift - To my poor vengeance! - (_To_ ARTHUR.) Sire what wilt thou do? - - _Arthur._ To arms, to arms, we’ll siege him in his hold. - ’Tis death that cures dishonor. He will reap - The swift dread harvest of Heaven’s retribution. - - _Gwaine._ Would Launcelot were but two men, I’d slay him twice. - ’Twould suit my feelings. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE IV.--(_Rise outer curtain._) _Court at Camelot._ - - _Enter two_ Gentlemen. - - _1st Gent._ Were I the weaker kind, I’d trickle tears - For this poor kingdom. Hast thou seen the Pope’s bull? - - _2nd Gent._ Yea, forbidding the carrying on of this strange war, - And commanding Arthur to take back his Queen, - And give Sir Launcelot passage from the Kingdom. - He be a wondrous Knight, this Launcelot. - ’Tis pity this love o’ercame him. - - _Both pass out. Enter_ VIVIEN _and_ MORDRED. - - _Vivien._ My heart grows hot to bring things to an issue. - - _Mordred._ Patience! and thou wilt see the issue come. - Launcelot banished, Arthur follows after, - With blustering Gwaine, both ravening for war. - Arthur will leave me regent, then’s mine hour. - - (_Both pass on._) (_Rise inner curtain._) (_Enter_ ARTHUR, _takes - his state_. Knights _and_ Ladies. _Trumpets blow without. Enter_ - LAUNCELOT _with the_ QUEEN _draped in black, with her_ Ladies. - LAUNCELOT _leads the_ QUEEN, _who stands_. LAUNCELOT _kneels_. - ARTHUR _averts his face_. LAUNCELOT _speaks_.) - - _Laun._ Sire! by order of the Pope of Rome - And your most royal promise, here I bring - Unto your keeping Guinevere the Queen, - And dares one knight within these royal precincts - Impugn her chastity or queenliness, - I meet him with my body. - - _Arthur._ Madam, I acknowledge you as Queen. - It is the will of Heaven. I submit. - But loving wife thou art no more to me. - Not Pope nor Prince can white thy black in this. - - (GUINEVERE _takes her state_.) - - _Guin._ Arthur of Britain, I answer thee, the King, - I am no more thy wife nor ever was, - Nor am I shamed as Queen to own the love - I’ve borne for Launcelot. In the coming world - He will be mine, as I am truly his. - I wronged thee not great Arthur, but ’twas thou - And hellish circumstance have wrecked my days. - ’Tis the Queen’s answer, she will speak no more. - - _Arthur._ Sir Launcelot Du Lake, arise! (LAUNCELOT _stands_.) - Launcelot Du Lake, thou traitor knight, - Sinner against the honor of this realm, - I banish thee for ever from this kingdom, - On pain of foulest death, dost thou return. - - _Laun._ Sire, I accept the issue. - - _Mordred._ ’Tis but a gentle majesty that leans - To mercy such as this, were I thy king-- - - _Gwaine._ Yea, get thee quick. Fast as thou nearest France - We sail the faster. Thou shalt meet with Gwaine, - And pay his brothers’ spirits thou hast slain, - Thou foul lewd traitor! - - _Laun._ Lord Arthur, thou hast reason to scorn me now, - And all thine anger stabs mine inward soul; - But now ’tis open I must tell thee true, - I love Queen Guinevere as mine own body, - And her alone will love unto my death, - As to none other. For this woeful love, - I’ll answer to my God who put it there, - And not to man, nor even to thee, proud King. - And yet I say it, yea with breaking heart, - I love thee, King, as doth no other man, - And did no hideous fate come in between - I had been thy Launcelot still. - - _Arthur._ (_Aside._) Great God! Now my heart breaketh. - (_To_ LAUNCELOT.) Begone, false Knight. ’Tis enough. - - _Laun._ Yea yet a little, Sire, it is the end. - If Gwaine would hearken I would answer him - For his two brothers. - - _Gwaine._ Nay, nay I’ll not hearken. - - _Laun._ ’Tis ended then, but I would say to thee, - That nothing next to this most heavy matter, - The most dread, sorrowful matter in this poor world, - Hath grieved me so as that I did that deed. - All blinded with my sorrow for the Queen, - I knew not ’twas your brothers that I slew. - - _Gwaine._ Nay, nay, blood, blood alone will answer. - - _Laun._ (_To the_ QUEEN.) - And thou sad Guinevere, thou Queen of women, - Sweetest of soul and form upon this earth, - I’ll look upon thy beauteous face no more. - Let womanhood blossom the days to come, - There never-more will be one like to thee. - (_Bends and kisses her hand._) (GUINEVERE _goes toward him._) - - _Guin._ Launcelot, take me with thee, I am thine. - - _Arthur._ And thou the Queen? - - _Guin._ I am no Queen of realm save this man’s heart. - And where he treads, that land to me alone - Beloved of the kingdoms of this earth. - Oh! take me Launcelot, my Lord! my King! - - _Arthur._ Ladies, the Queen to her apartments! - - _Laun._ I would not shame thy kindness, Guinevere. - We were each others ere this world began, - And we together, unshamed yet will go - To meet our God, sweet Love farewell, farewell. - - (_Hurries out. The_ QUEEN _borne slowly to her apartments weeping_.) - - _Arthur._ Oh, black brute Evil, why was Arthur born? - Now is all loveliness gone out from life. - Yea, I will sink. Nay, I am Arthur still. - The Kingly still, defying Hell and Fate. - To arms! to arms! Red battle is my mood. - - _Mordred._ Yea, battle! - - _Gwaine._ Yea, blood, for blood! my brothers’ spirits call. - - _Arthur._ My heart awakens! Mordred, as my regent, - I leave thee filial keeper of my crown, - My queen and kingdom, while I wed with war, - And bring as issue, yon foul Launcelot’s doom. - Make my forces ready. France! is the word. - - _All._ (_Draw swords and shout._) Yea, battle! [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE V.--_A Corridor in the Palace. Enter two_ Gentlemen. - - _1st Gent._ Hast heard the news? Mordred’s usurped the kingdom, - hath seized the Queen, and backed by half the realm doth - challenge Arthur to a warm homecoming. ’Tis said he hath - plotted this long time and now hath proved his chances. How - stand you in this most bitter struggle? - - _2nd Gent._ I’m for Arthur and now for Dover and France this - coming night. - - _1st Gent._ Then I am with you. May we bring these shores - New peace from this usurper when we come. [_Exit both._ - - _Enter_ VIVIEN _with a dagger_. - - _Vivien._ Nay he shall never make her Queen. Nay never! - She shall die first! No Queen but Vivien - Shall royal it while Mordred lifts the crown. - His slave, his creature, yea, in all save this. - I’ll make her beauty wan, I’ll curtain her lights. - Yea she shall Queen in Tartarus this night. - - (_Sounds heard without_, VIVIEN _gets behind the tapestry_.) - - _Enter_ MORDRED _as_ KING. - - _Mordred._ Now have I reached the pinnacle of my revenge - In these uncertain heights of Arthur’s glory. - And even now I sicken of the struggle. - Even now I top a tower of fear. - A thousand swords, would leap at my command, - And swim this land in blood at my one word, - Would at a stronger power but turn and rend me. - The thousand throats that this morn shouted, “Mordred!” - Tomorrow morn may shout as loud for Arthur. - ’Tis but a petty thing to be a King, - And strut an hour to crown a people’s will - And make them think they wield a majesty, - And hold a phantom rule; then pass and be - A little dust in a forgotten heap. - Nay, ’tis not worth the blacking of a soul, - The letting of a single human life, - The fouling o’er of youthful memory. - And I am now this self-contemnéd thing, - A man of truest sorrows who descended - From out the pedestal of nobler dreams, - And used the subtle intrigues of this world - To climb this pyramid of human weakness. - And now I hate it as I hate myself - Who stooped to gain it. Yet must Mordred king - This realm with a tyranny that fear - Wields o’er a monarchy that knows not love. - And burn his heart out for a woman’s scorn. - Yea she shall be my Queen if love can win her. - - _Enter_ GUINEVERE _as a_ State Prisoner. - - _Mordred._ Madam, I would detain you. - - _Guin._ Usurper King! what means this bringing of me here? - I deemed the shelter of a sisterhood - Were not denied me. - - _Mordred._ Madam, I would to you unfold this matter. - I am not all you think me in your scorn - Though I be born mis-shapen, yet my soul - Hath appetite for beauty like a man’s - That shows the inward in the outward mien. - Madam, I would lay the matter plainly, - I have long been a victim to thy beauties, - And would new-make thee Queen of this old Kingdom. - - _Guin._ Never! Were Launcelot or Arthur standing by, - Insulter of thy Queen, thou wouldst die. - Make way! Make way! - - _Mordred._ Madam, have compassion on my weakness! - A soul is lodged within this crooked body. - No man hath ever loved as Mordred loves. - - _Guin._ Make way! this be hideous. - - _Mordred._ Lady, let your own sorrow plead for Mordred’s sorrow. - As thou hast loved Launcelot unhappy, - So he loves thee. - - _Guin._ Show thy love by closing this audience quickly. - I am all Launcelot’s in this world and the next, - As Heaven knoweth. - - _Mordred._ Then thou wilt not have compassion. - - _Guin._ I pity thee, but this may never be. - - _Mordred._ Never? - - _Guin._ As I am a Queen, never! - - _Mordred._ Lady thy pity doth but little help me. - Yet will I show thee Mordred hath a heart. - Know then thou hast killed the spark of Mordred’s hope, - And silenced the music of this world for him, - Yet lady as rightful king of this great land - He grants thee safest passage where thou wilt. - - _Guin._ I would go to a Nunnery. - - _Mordred._ As thou wilt. Not one word? Not one token? - - _Guin._ Prince, thou hast my respect and gratitude - For this thine act. - - [_Exit_ GUINEVERE _and her_ train. - - VIVIEN _comes forward_. - - _Vivien._ Ha! Ha! Ha! King Mordred! - - _Mordred._ (_Springs forward and draws._) Fiend! thou diest! - (_He clutches her, they stand confronting each other._) Nay, - nay and thou didst hear all? Nay, I will not kill thee. Thy - punishment hath been more than I could mete thee. I see - sharp agony in thine evil face. Yea, Woman thou hast suffered. - - _Vivien._ Oh God! My love! My love! (_Would stab herself._) - - _Mordred._ Nay, die not! (_Throws the dagger away._) Thou - deservest thy reward. Mordred will crown this farce and make - thee Queen. - - _Vivien._ Me! thy wife? - - _Mordred._ Nay, nay, nor mistress even, only Queen. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE VI.--France--_A Tent on the Field near_ LAUNCELOT’S _Castle_. - ARTHUR _paces to and fro_. - - _Arthur._ I would I were on British soil again - This leaguer goes but feebly. I am sick - Of losing battles to this Launcelot, - Whose strength and prowess in far kinder days, - Was my heart’s pride. Arthur thy star grows dark. - Thou canst not keep the love of woman. Nay, - Men’s friendships turn to traitor on the lips. - Oh, Merlin; couldst thou now but see thine Arthur. - - _Enter_ Messenger. - - _Arthur._ Well! - - _Mess._ Sir Launcelot met Sir Gwaine beneath the wall. - And of all the bloody fights betwixt them two, - Which have enhorrored this ensanguined war, - This was the bloodiest. - - _Arthur._ Speak on! - - _Mess._ Sir Gwaine be mortal wounded, so it seemeth. - - _Arthur._ Nay! - - _Mess._ He even fought on after he was down, - Till his blade fell from out his palsied hand. - - _Arthur._ This time maketh thrice that he hath been defeated, - And surely this will cool his fiery blood. - He is the strongest hater I have known - In all my royalty. He would as lief go - To Hell, so that his foe might forfeit Heaven. - - _Enter_ GWAINE, _borne by_ Squires _and_ Attendants. - - _Gwaine._ Let me forth--forth, I say! Hell! catiffs, I be better - now. - I would at him. Oh! - - _Attendants._ Sire, if he rest not he will die. - The blood runneth from him in streams - So we cannot quench it, do he not lie still. - - _Gwaine._ King, I be a shamed man. Damn this world! - I will shut it out o’ my knowledge. I be in pieces. - - _Arthur._ Thou hast had enough, temper thy hates. - And do thy brothers more they lodge in Hell. - I am for England. - - _Gwaine._ Nay, King, let me but once more. - - _Arthur._ Thou canst scarce utter, thou wilt die. - - _Gwaine._ Nay, I will stand his front so long as I may hold a - blade, and shake it at him! - - _Enter a_ Messenger _in great haste_. - - _Arthur._ Whence come you? - - _Mess._ From England. Mordred hath made him King. - - _Arthur._ Nay! nay! - - _Mess._ ’Tis true, and seized the Queen. - - _Arthur._ Great Heaven! - - _Mess._ Even now he sitteth robed in thy late state, - And wieldeth puissance. - - _Gwaine._ The damned hunchback! - - _Arthur._ Oh World, would I were gone! My Queen untrue, - My heart’s best brother traitor, even my son, - Mine ill-got son doth rend me. Who would now - Hold fate with sunken Arthur? - (_To the_ Messenger.) Be there more? - - _Mess._ Nay, Sire, I came in haste at the first news, - Though it is said that he would wed the Queen. - - _Arthur._ A thousand devils take him!--Nay, not that - Not that most foul completion! - Ho! Sir Hake, Sir Mark. Ho Knights without! - - _Enter_ Knights. - - _Arthur._ Mordred’s usurped the kingdom. We must haste to - England now. The siege is raised. Yea I will blot him out or - make an end righting mine old glory. - - _Gwaine._ (_Borne out._) Now are my chances gone. Gwaine is - disgraced. This is a world of woe. I’ll fight no more. But - one more bout, and my sword might ha’ done it. - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT V. - - - SCENE I.--(_Rise outer Curtain._) _Enter two_ Soldiers. - - _1st Sol._ Ho, without there! - - _2nd Sol._ What news? - - _1st Sol._ Arthur is back for England with all his forces, and - the King hath sent an army to withstand his landing, and - himself leaveth to-night to follow them. - - _2nd Sol._ He be a rare King this Hunchback. He hath a - marvellous power. His Knights be feared of him, but ’tis said - he’s just. - - _1st Sol._ He be not lawful got, ’tis said, but none can say - his rule be foul. - - _2nd Sol._ ’Tis said that the new Queen be a witch an’ hath - holpen him wi’ her deviltries. - - _1st Sol._ God save us if it be true! Yet it is safe to say; - God save the King an’ Queen. ’Tis better to cry a witch Queen - than to be split i’ the gullet. - - _2nd Sol._ Yea wi’ plenty ale i’ the pewter and meat o’ the - spit, no matter who queens or kings it, so says I. I’m for - Mordred an’ the Witch. - - _1st Sol._ So be I till the next change comes. [_Exit both._ - - (_Rise inner Curtain._) _Enter_ VIVIEN _as_ QUEEN _with many_ Ladies - _and_ Pages--_takes her state_. - - _Enter a_ Knight, _who kneels_. - - _Vivien._ What news from France, Sir Bors? - - _Knight._ Arthur cometh back, my Lady. - - _Vivien._ Nay! - - _Knight._ Yea, my Lady, the army be embarked. - - _Vivien._ Oh short and bitter! - - _Enter_ MORDRED. - - _Mordred._ Well, Madam! - - _Vivien._ (_To the_ Ladies.) Begone! [_Exit all._ - - (_To_ MORDRED.) Hast thou heard the news? - - _Mordred._ ’Tis as I have long expected. He now cometh back. - - _Vivien._ Art thou prepared? - - _Mordred._ Yea, if ’tis death thou meanest. - And ’twere better so. Thou art a Queen already! - I had not thought thou wouldst so look the Queen. - - _Vivien._ Mordred, would that thou mightst also see - I wear a heart, a woman’s heart, beneath - This queenly mask. - - _Mordred._ A heart? - - _Vivien._ That beats and breaks for thee. - - _Mordred._ I’m not myself, I am a hunchback king, - Who stole his father’s rule by subtlety. - And keepeth it by power of being a devil. - I know not love. Woman, thou art mad! - Art thou not satisfied with what thou art? - I made thee all that woman’s heart might crave. - Revenge, ambition, these all can I grant, - But love, a commodity not in Mordred’s giving. - Use this thy power to surfeit while it lasts, - Tomorrow it will topple. I’m o’er-weary - Of all this sycophancy of creeping men, - Who fear my power and sneer upon my back; - A pageantry of lies where human worms, - Who crawl to-day, tomorrow get a sting - And use it on the hand that ’friended them. - I cannot mould the face to popular form, - And hide the thought behind the outward act. - And make good ill, ill good by royal patent. - Nay, I can scorn, and I can hate,--yea strike, - When rules the mood, yea, I’m a very devil; - But cheat myself and others to what I am, - And be a popular dream, a fancied god, - The victim of a world’s delusiveness, - What manner I am, I were not made for this. - Yea coming struggle I meet thee with a joy - ’Twere scarce expected. Madam, I bid farewell. - We worked this masque together, thou and I, - And if it like thee little, blame not Mordred. - I go to-night to meet my Sire in battle. - Such fight will be this kingdom hath not known - In all its sorrows. Britain’s darkest hours - Are blacking on her, I feel I go to death. - I leave some knights to guard thee. If thou desirest - Thou canst withdraw unto some convent close, - Till this blows over. - - _Vivien._ Nay, Vivien flees not. She dies first! Woman or Queen - She will be found where dangers threaten thee - And menace thy kingliness, Oh Mordred, - Thou knowest not the woman that I am. - Take me with thee as thy heart’s true slave, - Where thou diest, there would Vivien die, - Or where thou goest, there would she wander too. - - _Mordred._ Nay, nay, ’tis vain, I am a man apart. - Thou knowest not the iron I am become. - Mordred needs no shield of kindly help - Other than what unkind nature gave him. - Woman, thou dost unqueen thyself, I tell thee. - Thou wastest thy words on Mordred. - - _Vivien._ Oh brute, Oh cruel shape, not natural man, - Hast thou no feeling? - - _Mordred._ I go forth to-night. - To wreck my father, stem his tide this way - Unto his rightful kingdom. Speak me love! - Rather tell the lamb skipping the mead, - Go ask the wolf for suckle. - - _Vivien._ Nay Mordred, slay me now and thou wilt know - Vivien had blood full warm to flow for thee. - - _Mordred._ Woman, I’m all iron and adamant - And yet I pity thee for thou hast hell. - I would not slay thee--rather fare thee well. - - [_Exit_ MORDRED. - - _Vivien._ Oh God! Mordred! Mordred! Is this all? - And I have moulded him unto this iron - I beat against. It is my punishment! - Oh God! Oh God! Nay, I will go with him, - And die with him if need be. Now my wits! - But how? How? How? - - _Enter a_ Page. - - _Page._ Madam, the King? - - _Vivien._ He hath just left--Stay, dost thou go with him? - - _Page._ Yea, Madam. - - _Vivien._ Doth see this jewel? - - _Page._ Yea Madam, it be wondrous indeed. - - _Vivien._ It will be thine--wilt thou stay, - And let another go in thy stead. - - _Page._ The King trusteth me. - - _Vivien._ ’Tis the will of one who loveth the King far more - than ever thou couldst. ’Tis my will. Thou must stay. Quick, - this way. [_Exit both._ - - _Re-enter_ MORDRED _with his_ Knights. - - _Trumpets without._ - - _Mordred._ Make haste! Make haste! Where tarrieth this Squire - of mine? We must ride to Dover ere it darkens. - - _A Knight._ He cometh now, Sire. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN, _disguised as a_ Squire. - - _Mordred._ Dost thou keep thy king? thou wert long in coming. - - _Vivien._ I came with all speed, Sire. - - _Mordred._ Thou seemest over pink and white for this work. - Canst thou fight? - - _Vivien._ Yea, Sire, I can use a dagger. - - _Mordred._ Then follow--Ho, there without! Now for Mordred’s - doom. [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE II.--_The Kentish Coast. Landing of_ ARTHUR’S _troops opposed - by_ MORDRED. _Battle going on in the distance. Enter_ GWAINE _borne - ashore on a litter. Battle comes near._ - - _A Soldier._ They come this way, here will we stand and guard - thee. (_They put down the litter._) - - _Gwaine._ How goes the fight? - - _A Squire._ Desperate hard. The enemy be strong, - As if half England would shove the other i’ the sea. - - _Gwaine._ Give me my sword, and help me up, I’ll fight. - - _A Leech._ Sir Knight, if you rise up it is your death. - - _Gwaine._ Damn thee, to lie here helpless is to die, - With those fierce sounds of battle in mine ears. - Quick! my sword! mine old strength cometh back. - - (_A_ Squire _hands him his sword, he leaps to his feet. The - battle comes near and they are all borne out fighting. - Re-enter_ GWAINE _borne by_ Soldiers _and the_ Leech.) - - _Leech._ I told thee thou wouldst die. - - _Gwaine._ And so wilt thou some day, and like a milksop, i’ thy - bed. - ’Twas a poor prophesy though a sure one. It is naught. - Turn me over. Yea, I wedged some skulls, and clipped - Damned Mordred’s wings o’ some pen-feathers. - - _Enter_ ARTHUR. - - _Arthur._ So far the battle’s ours, this edge at least - Of Britain’s soil doth Arthur own to-night. - What be this? - - _Gwaine._ ’Tis Gwaine, King, brought to bay at last. - - _Arthur._ Thou wert mad to fight. - - _Gwaine._ ’Twas madness not to fight with all that battle - Ringing its clarion thunders in mine ears. - All life be madness and death but the healing of it. - I have reft some brain-pans, i’ my time, ha! ha! - Tell traitor Launcelot.--Yea turn me softly, - ’Twas a deft hand did give me that last stroke. - - _Leech._ What be thy message knight, thy time groweth short? - - _Gwaine._ Yea, take away,--tell Launcelot, Gwaine’s vengeance - waits him i’ the nether black. (_Dies._) - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE III.--_Night on the battle field. The royal tent_, ARTHUR’S - _Camp_. - - _Arthur._ Ho! there without. (_Enter a_ Page.) Send me Sir - Bedivere. [_Exit_ Page. - - _Enter_ SIR BEDIVERE. - - _Arthur._ Is all safe i’ the camp? - - _Sir B._ Yea, Sire, the sentries are set and watch fires - ablaze. And all ready for battle i’ the first dawn. - - _Arthur._ What of the enemy? - - _Sir B._ They be the same, Sire, all seemeth quiet i’ the camp. - - _Arthur._ Remember all watchfulness, so there be no surprise. - Thou canst go Bedivere, I would fain sleep. - - _Sir B._ Yea, I go, Sire, and God keep thee this night. - - _Arthur._ Stay, Knight, Arthur of England is a lonely man, - Betrayed of those who should have loved him best. - To-night perchance he fronts the brink of death, - In bloody battle for his rightful kingdom. - Take this ring, Knight, in memory of thy King, - (_Gives him a ring._) Survive he not the morrow. - - _Sir B._ God keep thee, Sire! [_Exit_ SIR BEDIVERE. - - _Arthur._ Now what will morrow’s dawn-rise bring to Arthur? - Will it bring bloody victory or defeat? - How like an autumn wood is stript my glory, - Who short since was sole monarch of this realm. - Oh! evil Spite, that ruleth this sad world! - Come joy, come hope, there’s nothing sure but death. - Yea, I will sleep and muffle out my sorrows - A little while. (_Goes to the couch._) - Nay, Arthur will not pillow till he beds with death, - Or doth regain his kingdom. I will rest here. - -(_Seats himself on a chair and wraps his cloak about him._) - - Now for Oblivion’s peace! - O stricken King, thou art the loneliest to-night. - In any realm. (_Leans forward, falls asleep. A_ Page _steals in_.) - - _Page._ He sleeps. (_Exit_ Page.) (ARTHUR _starts and mutters_ - “Launcelot! Launcelot! My friend! My friend! Guinevere! Ah! - Guinevere!”) - - _Ghost of Merlin rises._ - - _Ghost._ Arthur of England! - - _Arthur._ (_In his sleep._) Merlin! Ah! Merlin! - - _Ghost._ I come to tell thy doom. To-morrow! Arthur, to-morrow! - - _Arthur._ Away Spirit! Afright me not. Away! Away! - - (Ghost _vanishes_, ARTHUR _starts up_.) - - Ah, Merlin! did I dream of Merlin? ’Twas but the fancy. - Oh, great Mage, to-night thy portents wander back - Unto my mind, Oh couldst thou see thine Arthur. - To-morrow, said the voice within my dream. - To-morrow! Yea, to-morrow! - - (_Sits down again and folds his cloak. Sleeps. Mutters_ “Mordred! - my son Mordred!”) - - _Ghost of_ GWAINE _rises_. - - _Ghost._ King! - - _Arthur._ Ah! ’Tis thou! Away! away! - - _Ghost._ King, fight not tomorrow. - - _Arthur._ (_In his sleep._) Nay, I will! - - _Ghost._ King, fight not to-morrow. - - _Ghost vanishes_, ARTHUR _wakes_. - - _Arthur._ Yea, sleep is but the border land o’ death. - ’Tis twice! ’Tis twice! It is a certain portent. - Yea, Arthur fights, though Arthur dies, to-morrow. - Yea, now I’ll sleep, for I am over-weary. - Weary of life, yea I am over-tired. - I would fain sleep though night should have no morning. - This night is sweet and restful. To-morrow comes doom, - This hour for soft oblivion. [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE IV.--_Near the battlefield. Enter two_ Knights. - - _1st Knight._ This day is Britain doomed and Arthur’s Court. - Rent and dismembered by old grisled war. - - _2nd Knight._ Meseems the kingdom’s severed like two tides - That meet together in some mountain course - To whelm other. Arthur’s star grows dark, - And Mordred’s darker. ’Tis the Queen they say, - Hath cursed the realm with her godless loves. - - _Enter two other_ Knights, _fighting on foot_. - - _1st Knight._ A Mordred! Ho! A Mordred! - - _2nd Knight._ An Arthur! An Arthur! Have at you! (_They close - and each stabs the other. Both die._) - - _1st Knight._ Thus is the kingdom rent like doomsday’s crack. - Such awful portents have been told abroad, - Since yesternight. Some say the world hath end. - - _2nd Knight._ And what be they? - - _1st Knight._ The crucifixes on the churches’ walls - Have trickled blood, and many abbey bells - Have tolled the midnight, rung by no man’s hand. - Yea, even the dead have risen from their graves. - - _2nd Knight._ Ora pro nobis! - - _1st Knight._ Some even say that Merlin hath come back - And prophesied the kingdom at an end, - And all last night men dreamed such fearsome dreams - Of blight and pestilence and spectres dire; - I fear me much the end of days hath come. - - _2nd Knight._ How goes the fight? - - _1st Knight._ Yea even fiercer, as two tidal waves, - That roar together on some might bore, - And meet in thunders. Never hath such war - Been known in Britain since the ancient days. - The bowman’s arrows darken all the sun. - The battle-axes clamor on the shields, - As on some morn the loud woodcutter’s din - By some bright hillside. Knight encounters knight - In serried thunders. All the kingdom’s turned - To one mad tournament of blood and flame. - - (_The battle is heard moving nearer. Both rush out._) - - _Another part of the field. Enter_ ARTHUR _surrounded by_ knights. - - _Arthur._ Now where is he, that monster, foul, deformed, - In shape and spirit, Nature calls my son? - - _Enter_ MORDRED. - - _Mordred._ Here! - - _Arthur._ Ah, Blot on all this sunlight, Creature dire, - Spawn of mine incest. There standest thou my sin, - Incarnate now before me, mine old doom, - Thou that wast stronger in thine influences - To work dread evil in this hideous world, - Than all the glory, all my good might win. - - _Mordred._ Father! - - _Arthur._ Yea, well say Father! Parent I this ill - That hath enrent my kingdom all in twain. - In that dread night of my licentious youth, - When I in darkness thy foul shape begot, - I worked a web of blackness round my fate, - And thine, distorted phantom of my sin, - Not all the tolling of sweet abbey-bells - And murmur of masses sung these thousand years, - Can sweep from this doomed kingdom. Father, yea, - There is no truce betwixt us. Thou art Death - To all that I hold dearest on this earth. - Thou stood’st betwixt me and my gladder fate, - The one black spot on all my glory’s sun. - In thee once more mine evil blackens in, - Reddens mine eyesight. Have at thee, foul Curse! - - _Mordred._ Father! - - _Arthur._ Have at you! (_They fight._ ARTHUR _wounds_ MORDRED. - _He falls. A_ Knight _stabs_ ARTHUR _from behind_.) - - _Arthur._ Ho! all the sunlight blackens! Mordred! Oh! - My glory darkens! Curtain not yon sun! (_Dies._) - - _Mordred._ Yea, this is all and I were made for this, - To scatter death and desolation round - On this fair kingdom, ruin this sweet land, - And level all the pride of Arthur’s glory, - As men might level some great castle walls. - And sow with salt the fields of his desire, - And make him mock before the eyes of men. - Turn all his great joy into bitterness. - Yea, I his blood, and I were made for this. - Oh ancient, cruel Laws of human life, - Oh deep, mysterious, unfathomable Source - Of man’s poor being, we are ringed about - With such hard rinds of hellish circumstance, - That we can never walk or breathe or hope, - Or eye the sun, or ponder on the green - Of tented plain, or glorious blue of Heaven, - Or know love’s joy, or knotted thews of strength, - But imps of evil thoughts creep in between, - Like lizards in the chinks of some fair wall, - And mar life’s splendor and its fairness all. - ’Tis some damned birth-doom blended in the blood - That prophesies our end in our poor acts. - Oh! we are but blind children of the dark - Wending a way we neither make nor ken. - Yea, Arthur, I had loved thee sweet and well, - And made mine arm a bulwark to thy realm, - Had I been but as fair as Launcelot. - What evil germ, false quickening of the blood, - Did breed me foul, distorted as I am, - That I should mar this earth and thy great realm - With my wry, knotted sorrows? Launcelot’s love - Was manly, kind, and generous as became - A soul encased in such propitious frame. - The kingly trees well turn them to the sun, - And glory in their splendor with the morn. - ’Tis natural that noble souls should dwell - ’Twixt noble features, but the maiméd soul - Should ever be found in the distorted shape. - But I had loved as never man hath loved - Did nature only plant me sweet at first. - (_To his Knights._) And now I die, and blessed be my death, - More blessed far that I had never breathed. - Murder and Treason were my midwives dire, - Rapine and Carnage, priests that shrive me now. - - _Enter_ VIVIEN, _disguised as a_ Squire. - - _Vivien._ Mordred! thou diest! - - _Mordred._ Who art thou? - - _Vivien._ I am Vivien. - - _Mordred._ Hence, hence Viper, incarnate Fiend. - Not natural, woman, but Ambition framed, - And all lust’s envy. Thou wert unto me - A blacker blackness. Did an angel come, - And whisper sweeter counsel in mine ears. - And trumpet hopes that all were not in vain, - But thou wouldst wool mine ears with malice dire, - And play upon the black chords of my heart. - Hence, Devil! Mar not these my closing hours. - - _Vivien._ O, Woe! Woe! (_Steals out._) - - _Mordred_ (_To the_ Knights.) Now bear me slowly to great Arthur’s - side - And let me place my hands upon his breast, - For he was mine own father! Alas! Alas! - So hideous is this nature we endure. - - (_The_ Soldiers _place him by_ ARTHUR.) - - How calm he sleeps, Allencthon, as those should - Who die in glorious battle. Dost thou know - Oh! mighty father that thine ill-got son, - Ill-got of nature and mysterious night, - To mar thy splendor and enwreck this world - Now crawls to thy dead body near his death, - As would some wounded dog of faithful days, - To lick his master’s hand? Blame not, O King, - If thou somewhere may know what I here feel, - Thy poor, misshapen Mordred. Blame him not - The turbulent, treacherous currents of his blood - Which were a part of thine, nor let one thought - Of his past evil mar thy mighty rest; - I would have loved thee, but remember that. - Now, past is all this splendour, new worlds come, - But nevermore will Britain know such grace, - Such lofty glory and such splendid days. - Back of the clang of battle, back of all - The mists of life; the clamour and the fall - Of ruined kingdoms built on human days, - Arthur! Merlin! Mighty dead, I come! - (_Springs to his feet._) - Ho! Horse! To horse! My sword! A trumpet calls! - A Mordred! (_Dies._) - - [_Curtain._ - - - THE END. - - - - - HILDEBRAND - - - AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY. - - - FOUNDED ON THE LIFE AND CHARACTER - OF - THE GREAT POPE GREGORY VII, - - - HIS STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY WITH HENRY IV OF GERMANY, - AND HIS ENFORCEMENT OF THE CELIBACY OF THE CLERGY. - - - - - _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._ - - - HILDEBRAND, _Pope Gregory VII_. - HENRY IV, _of Germany_. - PETER, _Damiani, a monk_ (_friend to Hildebrand_). - GERBHERT, _a married priest of Milan_. - ARIALD, _a decretal preacher_ (_lover of Margaret_). - ARNULPH, _a decretal preacher_. - BRUNELLI, _a cardinal_. - Bishop of Bamburg. - WOLF, _Lord of Bamburg, a German Noble_. - Two Burghers. - BRUN, } - WAST, } _two monks_. - An Abbot. - A Warder. - Queen of Germany. - MARGARET, _wife of Gerbhert and daughter of Hildebrand_. - CATHERINE, _mother of Margaret and former wife of Hildebrand_. - - Cardinals, Lords, Bishops, Soldiers, Monks, Burghers and Pages. - - - - - HILDEBRAND. - - - - - ACT I. - - -SCENE I.--(_Rise outer Curtain._) _An Inn-yard in Milan. Two_ Burghers -_discovered seated at a table, drinking_. - - _1st B._ Well, well, these be the strange days indeed, indeed! - - _2nd B._ (_Rather drunk._) How now, neighbor Burnard, how now? - - _1st B._ Heardst thou not the news, good Neighbor? But with thy - nose always i’ the wine-pot, thou canst not know anything - aside its rim. - - _2nd B._ Wine-pot, wine-pot, thou sayst ha! ha! nose i’ the - wine-pot thou sayest, ’tis better than sticking it into every - business save thine own, hey! neighbor Burnard! But what be - this news that would keep the nose out o’ the wine-pot? - - _1st B._ There be a new Pope at Rome, the Monk, Hildebrand. How - like you that? - - _2nd B._ God, keep us all! Now thou dost say it! It seemeth - they be making new Popes every Michaelmas. This were no - reason for to keep the nose outside the wine-pot. Here’s to - his health, God save him! - - ’Twere a merry grape was squeezed for this, good Neighbor. - Here’s long life to thee an’ the Holy Pope, and especially to - the royal Henry. Soon may he come to Italy. - - _1st B._ It be said, Henry cannot sleep o’ nights i’ his bed, - for the making of this same Pope, Hildebrand, or Hellbrand, - as some folks call him. But hast thou heard the greater news? - - _2nd B._ Nay, what now? Nothing be new now. Nothing be new, - along o’ fighting and preaching and lechering and damning in - the Church and State. Nothing be new save drinking, and that - be ever new. Ha! ha! What else be new? - - _1st B._ ’Tis concerning this same scarce-baked Pope, this - Hellbrand. ’Tis said he hath sworn by the mass and all the - saints never to rest until he hath unwived all the priests i’ - Europe. How like you that, good neighbor Burnard? - - _2nd B._ Ho! ho! ’Tis a good joke. Unwive the priests! ’Tis a - good joke. ’Twere well for me and thee did he swear a vow to - unwive all the burghers i’ Milan. ’Twould gie one I know more - peace i’ his bed o’ nights. ’Tis the priests ever have all - the good fortune i’ Europe. Ah me, ah me! ’Tis ever so. - - _1st B._ Yea, but there’s more news yet, good Neighbor, this - same Hellbrand, which be a good name for him if he be Pope, - hath sent out two wondrous preachers, endowed with uncommon - powers of tongue and orders, to spread this same doctrine in - all Italy and throughout Europe; an’ it be said they took - fearsome oaths, on pain of eternal damnation, not to rest - till they had done so; an’ further, ’tis said, they be here - to-night to preach i’ the market. - - _2nd B._ I’ Milan? - - _1st B._ (_Rising._) Yea i’ Milan, here, i’ the square. - - _2nd B._ Well now! It do be passing strange, well now! It be - a damn law, and he be a damn liar, who saith not. A most - unnatural law, for our good pastor. Were it my case now, - it were fitting, (_1st goes out_) who taketh a lecture - every midnight near upon cock-crow, such as no Pope’s Bull - could outwit in language an’ rhetoric. Say good Neighbor, - what thinkest thou? Might I not be made a priest? What be - qualifications? (Ha! he hath gone!) I could drink with an - abbot, yea, an archbishop, yea, I’ll see this same Hellbrand - about the matter: it shall be done, be done, ha! ha! it shall - be done. (_Reels out._) - - (_Rise inner Curtain, the market place._) _Enter several jolly_ Monks. - - _1st._ (_Sings_) Ours be a jolly life, - No care nor ill have we, - We neither toil nor starve nor beg, - But live right merrily. - - _All._ No wife to scold, no child to squall, - An’ put us on the rack; - We drink good wine, we kiss the maids, - An’ the Pope is at our back. - - _2nd._ So here’s unto the jolly monk, (_all grasp hands_), - And here’s to him, alack, (_all clench fists_) - Who’d turn him from his board and bunk, - For the Pope is at his back. - - _All._ The Pope is at our back, good Freres, - The Pope is at our back; - We fleece the churls, we scorn the King, - For the Pope is at our back. (_All pass on._) - - _Enter a great crowd of_ Burghers, men _and_ women, _who fill the - market. Enter_ ARNULPH _and_ ARIALD, _the decretal preachers_. ARNULPH - _ascends a pulpit to harangue the crowd_. - - _Arnulph._ Know ye Citizens and Burghers of Milan, that whereas - in the past, by reason of evils and curses, through the power - of the Devil, Holy Church hath fallen into abomination, to - the shame of men and sorrow of Heaven, it hath here now and - at this time, behooved her to cast off certain of those - abominations, to wit, especially that most heinous sin, - whereby the priests of the altar, do, without grace and - carnally given, co-habit in concubinage with those weaker - vessels, even as do the common and unsanctified of humanity; - wherefore know ye Citizens and Burghers of this city of - Milan, that the Holy Father doth now and at this time, by - me and through me, instruct you each and collectively, of - the dreadful enormity of this most damnable sin, whereby the - holy priesthood is made of none effect, and Holy Church doth - languish in weakness and vassalage to the princes and lords - of this carnal world,--know ye,-- - - _A Burgher._ Most reverend Doctor, cut ye short the “know - ye’s” an’ the “wherefores” and th’ “verbiations” an’ the - “latinities” an’ come down from your high flown rostrum an’ - tell us the church’s will. We be plain men. - - _Other Burghers._ Well done, Big Gellert. Thou art in the right - of it. Bravo! Gellert. - - _Ariald._ Insolent Lump! would’st thou interrupt a doctor of - Holy Church? - - _Gellert._ Holy Church confound him and thee, too, thou - sour-faced varlet! Who’s a talking of Holy Church? He is but - a stray rooster from some mad convent, an’ thou his mate - ranting on a mad doctrine. Holy Church teacheth no such - damned doctrine. Be we fools? - - _Burghers._ Well hit, Big Gellert, thou canst give him the - latinities of it. Hit him back, old Pigeon! - - _Arnulph._ Beware, thou impious Mountain of mortality, an’ ye - foolish burghers lest ye insult in me a power that is behind - me. - - _A Clerk._ Come, come, get thee down, we want no such strange - doctrines. We have had clergy, good men with wives and chicks - i’ Milan, these centuries back, an’ we be no Sodom. - - _Arnulph._ I know not your customs, but in the name of Holy - Church, I Arnulph, hereby command ye on pain of deepest Hell - hereafter, that ye abstain from all masses made or performed - by any priest who continues in this unholy state, for I tell - you be he priest, archdeacon, bishop or archbishop, he is - accursed, and doubly accursed. - - _Gellert._ Thine be a big curse indeed, an’ by ’r Lady, thou - mouthest it well. - - _Clerk._ Dost thou tell us our good pastor be in mortal sin - because he liveth with a good wife as do other men? - - _Arnulph._ Have I not said it? - - _Gellert._ Then art thou a brazen liar, an’ comest thou - down, I will give the non of it on thy brazen chops, thou - leathern-lunged Varlet of Satan. - - _Arnulph._ Dog of Hell, the arm that toucheth me Heaven will - wither! - - (_A great clamor arises._) _Enter_ GERBHERT, _the Parish Priest_. - - _Gerbhert._ What meaneth this disturbance i’ my parish? I - thought I ruled a peaceful, God-fearing people, an’ not a - brawling rabble. - - _Gellert._ Pray, good Father, ’tis yon loud-mouthed Dog of - Satan, hath insulted you an’ all Milan by his mad heresy. - - _Gerbhert._ Insulteth me, good Gellert? (_To Arnulph._) Who - are you who without my license come disturbing my flock with - thine unseemly harangues? Come down from yon pulpit! (_To the - crowd._) Good People, in God’s name, go home. - - _Arnulph._ Nay, I will not come down till I have delivered - this my message to this foolish mob, an’ to thee, thou - carnal-minded Priest. In the name of the Holy Church I exhort - ye,-- - - _Gel._ He saith, Pastor Gerbhert, that thou canst no more make - masses, being a wedded man. - - _Gerb._ (_To_ ARNULPH.) Be this true? - - _Arn._ It is true, by the Mother of God. An’ thou wilt feel it - too ere thou art an hour older. - - _Gerb._ Nay, Man, thou art mad, this cannot be! - - _Ar._ ’Tis even so as we be Holy Church’s men. - - _Gerb._ Ha! art thou not Ariald, once of Rome? - - _Ar._ Yea, I am that same Ariald. - - _Gerb._ Then tell me Ariald, by our one-time friendship, that - this man be mad, an’ his message but a foolish doctrine. - - _Ar._ Nay, Gerbhert, but ’tis thou art foolish, an’ this law - but too true, thou must obey. - - _Gerb._ Then will I fight this mad heresy, this inhuman code. - That we must give up our wives an’ babes, our pure homes, - an’ all that is holiest on earth! Nay, it cannot be! ’Tis - devilish! - - _Ar._ But thou must obey or be driven out. - - _Gerb._ Ariald, thou knowest my Margaret, thou knowest her - sweet nature, her holy conversation. She hath no devil, that - her loving should make me unworthy. - - _Gel._ ’Tis damnable, good Father. But give me the word an’ we - will trounce them out o’ the market. - - _Enter_ MARGARET, _the_ Priest’s Wife. - - _Marg._ Gerbhert! Gerbhert! Good citizens have you seen the - pastor? Mother Bernard, poor soul, needeth the last rites, - she be dying. - - _Gel._ Aye, thou wert ever an angel of mercy from heaven to the - sick an’ poor. - - _Marg._ What aileth thee, Gerbhert? What may be the matter? - - _Gerb._ Come hither Margaret, this man telleth me - So strange a thing, I know not if he be mad - Who sayeth it, or I who hear his words. - He sayeth I am no more a priest of God - While I’m thy husband. - - _Marg._ Not priest of God while thou art husband? Nay! - But he is mad indeed, for thou art both, - A good kind pastor, as these people know, - And as I know, a good and loving husband. - - _Gerb._ He saith ’tis some new law within the church. - He saith in sooth, sweet Margaret, I must either - Put thee away or leave the priesthood. - - _Marg._ An’ what say you, my Gerbhert? - - _Gerb._ That I will fight it to the bitter end, - I will be both or there’s no God in Heaven. - Ariald, thou knowest my good Margaret, - The woman of my choice, my youth’s one love, - I will not give her up. The Holy Father - Shall know of this strange doctrine. He shall judge - ’Twixt thee and me. - - _Arn._ Know then thou carnal Priest that even now - He hath decided; ’tis by his own will - That we be here, here is his written word. - - (_Holds up the_ POPE’S _Bull_.) - - Yea, further, you shall choose you even now. - Thou shalt not shrive yon dying woman, till - Thou hast renounced this woman. - - _Gerb._ My sweet Margaret, put your trust in me. - (_To_ ARNULPH.) Thou cruel preacher, show me yon dread bull, - Whose horns do even now rend me. Tell me now - ’Tis but a lie and not great Hildebrand’s. - I knew him once, he seemed a kindly man, - And never one to part a wife and husband. - - _Gel._ Let me see yon paper, let me see thou liest. - Nay, ’tis the Pope’s name. This be a damned world! - Good Father Gerbhert, tell us if this paper - Be what he saith? (_Hands paper to_ GERBHERT, _who reads_.) - - (MARGARET _goes near_ GERBHERT.) - - _Gerb._ Margaret, come not so near, O Margaret come not so - near,--I love thee Margaret--but--O my God! - - _Marg._ Gerbhert, Gerbhert, thou wilt not desert me, - Remember our sweet babe. - - _Ar._ Margaret, touch not that man, he is God’s own. Leave him. - - _Arn._ Even so. Wouldst thou curse him with thy touch? - - _Marg._ Evil Man, good Friends, forgive my misery. - But even now, as I did pass our home, - I left his little one, and mine, asleep, - His sweet face pillowed on his rosy arm, - I bent and kissed him, he did look so like - His father, and now good friends forgive me, it is but - A passing madness, but it seemed these men - Had built a wall of hideous black between - Me and my husband. - - _Gerb._ Margaret, back! as thou lovest me! - Nay, touch me not, I am a banished man, - Good Friends, brave Gellert, pardon my poor feelings. - For I am now afflicted by dread heaven - For some gone, unknown sin of my past youth. - Perchance I murdered one in hideous sleep, - Strangled some infant on its mother’s breast, - Violated some pure sanctuary; - That this dread blackness lieth on me now. - O Margaret, thou art springtime vanished past, - And this be autumn all dead leaves and rain, - With all of mem’ry’s summer ’twixt us twain, - To think and dream forever. Forgive, my friends, - This weak unseemliness in me your pastor. - I ever did love mercy, dealt but tardily - With those who seemed to suffer more than sin, - Looked up to heaven and led my people, trusting; - And now I am brought beneath the cruelest hand - That ever pointed two roads to a man. - Arnulph, Ariald, forgive my former heat, - You do but your bare duty. Friends they’re right, - And I your whilom pastor in the wrong. - For I mistook the face of earth’s poor love - And dreamed a stair of human happiness - Did lead to Heaven. See me now rebuked. - ’Tis the Pope’s will. Arnulph, read thou this. - I charge thee, as the pastor of this parish, - That you leave out no word however hard, - Nor soften down one sentence of this curse, - Or its conditions. - - _Arn._ Of a surety I’ll not. - - _Ar._ He shall not! And harken, you, good people, do you listen! - - _Marg._ Gerbhert, come home, I will not hear that curse - That parts us twain. My breaking heart it seems - Doth hear our baby cry. - - _Arn._ Silence Woman! - - _Marg._ You would silence the angels. Work you this deed, - I tell you Man, you shut all Heaven out - And let in Hell, you desolate God’s glad homes - By your brute ministry that knows not love. - - _Arn._ The love of heaven knoweth not carnal love. - - _Marg._ Forgive me Sir! Stern Sir! would woman’s tears - But move you, would woman’s pleaded prayers - But change you to the softest kindly thought, - I would beg of you, read not that curse. - - _Arn._ Silence, Woman! - - _Gerb._ Margaret, by your love for me, be silent. - - _Arn._ (_Reads._) In the name of God, amen: Gregory the Seventh - by the will of Heaven, Pope, Vicar of Christ, successor - of Holy Peter, sendeth greeting to all Christian peoples, - and commandeth, that any priest living with a woman in the - so-called marriage state, shall be accursed:--that any person - who receiveth at his hands any or more offices of Holy Church - shall also be accursed.--That furthermore, all offices so - exercised by him shall not only be rendered null and void of - all good effect, but shall rather be regarded by Holy Church - as acts accursed. That this same law be proclaiméd in all - parishes throughout Christendom. Know ye that this be my will. - Signed, - GREGORY. - - _Marg._ Gerbhert, O God, Gerbhert, where art thou? - - _Gerb._ Margaret, touch me not, we must obey - When Heaven speaks. - - _Marg._ Not when it utters thunders such as this. - - _Arn._ Choose, Gerbhert, twixt this woman and thine office. - Take her with thee to Hell, or both win Heaven. - - _Gerb._ I have chosen, let me go and die. - - _Marg._ O Gerbhert, come and kiss our little babe, - Say one good-bye, to home, before you go, - I’ll not detain you, I say it on my knees, - I’ll not detain you. - - _Gerb._ Margaret, would you curse us with your love? - I can hear the Holy Father’s voice - Though he’s in Rome, saying, nay, nay, to thee. - Farewell, Margaret, we will meet in heaven. - - (_Goes out with_ ARNULPH _and_ ARIALD.) - - _Marg._ Nay, I am mad, ’twas this o’er nursing did it. - Gerbhert, tell me, tell me, I am mad. - Good friends, O pardon your poor Margaret. - O who will lead me home! - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE II.--_Place, Home of Pastor Gerbhert. Enter_ CATHERINE, Mother - _to_ MARGARET. - - _Cath._ What can keep her, what can keep her? Oh, here she - comes. (_Enter_ MARGARET, _weeping_.) - - _Marg._ Mother, Mother, take me, take me home. - Home? Where be home? Are not these walls familiar? - Did they not mean the place where we had dwelt, - And hoped and loved? And what are they made now, - But empty phantasies of a broken past? - O Mother, Mother, bring me to my child, - The world is dead, the world is aged and dead. - - _Cath._ My God, my God, Margaret, are you mad? - - _Marg._ My husband! Oh, my husband! - - _Cath._ Gerbhert! What of Gerbhert? Is he dead? - - _Marg._ Aye, dead to me. - - _Cath._ You speak in riddles, daughter. - - _Marg._ Life is a hideous riddle unto some, - That it were better they had never solved. - - _Cath._ Margaret, I am your mother. Tell me quick, Gerbhert, - where is Gerbhert? Will he come? - - _Marg._ He will never come. O Mother! O Mother! - - _Cath._ What are your words? Where hath he gone, my - Child? - - _Marg._ How can I tell you? ’Tis the church’s will - That he must leave me, I must be no wife, - Or he no husband. The Pope hath sworn it. - - _Cath._ The Pope! The Pope, you say? - - _Marg._ Aye, the Pope. - - _Cath._ Nay, not the Pope. You are dreaming, dreaming, Child, - This working with the sick, hath turned your brain. - - _Marg._ Nay mother, ’twere a blessing, were I mad. - ’Tis only but too true, I heard it now - Out in the market. Gerbhert heard it too, - And he hath gone. O God! yes he hath gone, - And on his face the doom of Death was writ. - - _Cath._ Mother of heaven! and it hath come to this. - Is there no God, that men in heaven’s name - Break up earth’s homes, and make a waste like this? - Daughter, Margaret, where hath Gerbhert gone? - - _Marg._ Let me die. But let me die in peace. - - _Cath._ Nay, nay, this shall not be, this hideous law - Must drift aside. Daughter, harken me. - - _Marg._ There is no hope. The Pope hath willed it so. - - _Cath._ Nay, he will hear me, I will make him hear. - I have a secret you have never known, - Nor any in Italy. - - _Marg._ The Cardinals at Rome will never hear thee. - Gregory will never, never hear thee. - ’Tis vain. - - _Cath._ Fear not for me, I will at once to Rome - And crush this evil matter, get his will - To bring back Gerbhert, if he will not harken,-- - - _Marg._ We can but die! - - _Cath._ I will go and make all matters ready, - So early dawn surprise me on my journey. - - _Marg._ Nay, mother, leave me not. I feel as if - All life were desolated. Leave me not. - - (_Her child cries within._) - - Yea, my sweet fatherless babe, I’ll come to thee, - Not all Rome’s Popes can say nay, nay, to that. (_Goes within._) - - _Cath._ (_Going out._) - O, thou that cursed me in mine early days, - And cast this shadow all across my life; - Wilt thou now add this sorrow to mine age? - And darken my last years? Is there no God? - O, Night, who art the same, whose stars look down - On peace and madness, human joy and pain, - If there be help within thy mighty depths - For earth’s poor creatures, help me, help me, now. (_Goes out._) - - _Enter_ ARIALD. - - _Ar._ She is alone. My power, this is thine hour. - Margaret! Margaret! - - _Enter_ MARGARET _eagerly_. - - _Marg._ O, Gerbhert! Have you come? - - _Ar._ Margaret! - - _Marg._ Sir!--O cruel disappointment! I had thought - It were my husband. - - _Ar._ ’Tis but a friend. - - _Marg._ Then Friend, bring back my husband, bring him back - On my knees I beg it. - - _Ar._ I may not, Margaret, Heaven only hath power - To stay your parting, think no more on Gerbhert. - - _Marg._ Then wherefore here? - - _Ar._ In pity for your sorrow I have come. - A wedded woman, yet no longer wed, - So young and fair, so helpless to protect - Yourself and child against this wicked world: - Yea, I would help you. - - _Marg._ My heart, had it but room for else than sorrow - Would thank your kindness. You can help me best - By bringing back the father of my child, - The friend who onetime loved you. - - _Ar._ It cannot be, in all things else than that - My power can help you. You sin grievous sin - When you still mourn him. - - _Marg._ Nay, nay, if sin, then life is all one sin, - One hideous hell, and God but a great devil. - - _Ar._ Woman, you blaspheme. - - _Marg._ Nay, rather thou blasphemest, teaching me - That human love, be contraband to heaven. - Not all your Popes and Cardinals standing by, - Can make me, looking on my baby’s face, - Forget his father. - - _Ar._ Margaret, by this love you bear your child, - Forget this Gerbhert. He was never yours. - By right divine, he ever was Holy Church’s. - You only damn his soul, do you succeed. - - _Marg._ Never! never! This be hideous, hideous! - My womanhood calls out against this lie. - - _Ar._ If you are wise you will forget this man. - I tell you he is dead to you and earth. - A few short years for prayer and cloister tears, - Are all that’s left him. Margaret you are fair, - And young and budding for the joys of earth. - Forget this Gerbhert. There are other men - Would seek thy love. - - _Marg._ What mean these words? Insult not this my sorrow. - - _Ar._ Margaret, if thou wouldst only but trust me, - My love is thine. - - _Marg._ Thou devil! - - _Ar._ Margaret, know my power. Thou art alone, - With me to make thy life a hell or heaven. - - _Marg._ Nay, I have God. O heaven, show thy face - Through this dread blackness! - - _Ar._ Not God nor any can give thee succor now. - Thy husband dead to thee forever more, - Choose! Black Starvation knocketh at thy door! - Pity thy child if thou wilt not thyself. - I have long loved thee, Margaret, trust to me, - Bethink thee of thy child. - - _Marg._ Out! out! Blasphemer! If the Church be vile, - If justice be swept from earth and pity dead, - Though devils walk this world, though God be gone, - Know, there be left one righteous woman’s scorn - For such as thee. - - _Ar._ When thou dost see bleak desolation come, - Gaunt, burning hunger fill thy baby’s eyes, - Thou’lt come to me. - - _Marg._ If thou be Satan, thou black Prince of Fiends, - Thou wearest this man’s form, thou firest his heart. - (_To_ ARIALD.) Go! Devil! ere I forget my womanhood. Go! - - _Ar._ (_Going out._) Remember! - - _Marg._ If there be nothing in this world for me, - I have a friend no priest nor Pope can take, - Whose name be Death. - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT II. - - - SCENE I.--_A room in the Papal Palace at Rome. Enter_ HILDEBRAND _as_ - Pope _and_ PETER DAMIANI, _a_ fanatic. - - _Hild._ Know, Peter, I am a man of single purpose, - To make all Europe bow to Peter’s knee, - To build the power of God o’er human thrones, - And humble kings to Christ by me His Legate. - - _Pet._ Now, thou art Hildebrand. - - _Hild._ To make the Crown subservient to the Cross - In all things; kill out simony; - And make the church sole granter of all fiefs - In bishopric or abbey; hold all kings - In spiritual feudality to my will, - To wear or doff their crowns at word of Heaven, - As represent in me, God’s vicarate. - - _Pet._ There spake Peter, indeed. - - _Hild._ For this same reason I carry this purpose now, - To separate humanity from the church, - And re-create a world within this world, - A kingdom in these kingdoms, alienate - From all the loves and ties that weaken men, - By rendering all the priesthood celibate, - Espouséd only unto Holy Church. - - _Pet._ Wilt carry this purpose to the bitter end? - - _Hild._ Yea, will I, unwive I half the world. - - _Pet._ Now will God’s kingdom rise and Hell’s go down, - With man’s presumption. Now we’ll get our hands - Clutched at the throats of all these bloody princes. - - _Hild._ Yea, Peter. - - _Pet._ Ha, ha, thou, too, hast a hate for kings. - - _Hild._ Whoever saw a monk who loved a king? - The king was ever our natural enemy. - But see in me no heaven-brooding monk, - But many men in one, a pope, a king, - A fierce ambition, like a burning flame, - To put these times and peoples ’neath my feet, - And conquer empires to my finger’s will, - So that I nod, and all kings nod with me. - This be the ruling passion of my life. - It saved me from the common daily sins. - Dost thou know, Damiani, I once loved - A woman, even as other men have loved, - Did marry her, o’ercome by human passion; - But driven by the demons of my fate, - Fled from her unto a monastery, - Where nights of prayer and fasting weaned my heart - To larger hopes and cravings. Never since - Have I set eyes upon my youthful love - Nor heard of her, though sometimes in my dreams - She comes back like a nightmare to my heart. - ’Tis strange that heaven makes our being so. - But she hath gone, a phantasma upon - The fading walls of my heart’s memory. - I will not dwell upon her. - - _Pet._ Gregory, thou wouldst do well to keep - A guard upon thy passions. - - _Hild._ Dost know me Peter? I am Hildebrand. - The ages after they will know of me, - As one who ruled himself and all the world - With iron hand, who changed the course of nature, - And rode unmoved o’er rivers of human tears - For God’s high glory. - - _Pet._ Unwive the priests! Unwive the priests! ’Tis my life’s - passion. - - _Hild._ Peter, Peter, thou art over-hard on woman, - She is not all the devil thou hast thought her. - - _Pet._ Yea, devil! devil! Mention not the name! - They are all devils, even thy holy Princess. - - _Hild._ Peter! - - _Pet._ Yea, Gregory, I will say it to thy face. - ’Tis not the Pope she leans on, ’tis the man. - I tell thee Hildebrand, Beatrice loveth thee, - And thou art Pope. O Woman, Woman, Woman! - Thou Satan’s agent for to damn this world! - - _Hild._ Ah, Peter, thou much mistakest Beatrice! - If ever a daughter of the Mother of God - Did move with saintly footsteps o’er this earth, - ’Twas Beatrice. All Holy homes of God - Within her happy Duchy rise to bless her. - The grateful poor who dwell in her own cities - Would do her reverence. Peter, thou art mad - On this one subject. Now to another matter. - Here is the map of Europe, all mine own. - The red Wolf of the Normans he may growl, - The Tigers of the south may snarl and whine, - But all are mine, are mine. I hold all sheep, - The many flocks who go to make my fold. - - _Pet._ Yea, thou wilt shear them, Hildebrand. - But what of Henry? - - _Hild._ That name! that name! I would that this same Henry - Were shut in hell! Of Europe’s many kings, - This Henry is the one I fear the most. - These dogs of Italy, hounds I hold in leash - To tear each other when they’d throttle me. - The Norman William hath his own affairs. - He is a heathen hound whom I would use - To keep my Christian sheep in quiet fold, - France hath her ills whereof I know full well, - But Henry! Henry is the name I hate! - His is the other name that stands for Rome. - My hope is this, if I can only put - This arrogant emperor underneath my foot, - As this same parchment, (hear it crunch and crack!) - So I’d crush him and make me emperor, - Then mine would be the single will of Europe. - This is my aim. - - _Pet._ Why dost thou pander then? He laughs at thee - And all thy legates, moves his licensed way - As though no Mother Church held holy sway - In his dominions, selleth bishoprics - And abbeys, and making mock allegiance - Laughs in his sleeve at thee, the Pope of Rome. - - _Hild._ Let him laugh, his scorn will eat him yet. - The day will come when he will cease to laugh, - For I am Hildebrand, I bide my time. - I hold a physic that will purge his pride - Of all its riches. - - _Pet._ Give him that physic quickly, Hildebrand. - Thou art not fierce enough. Use, use thy power, - Ere it deserts thee. What be this power? - - _Hild._ The Papal curse. - - _Pet._ Yea, use it Gregory, use it even now. - - _Hild._ Wait, Peter, thou wilt see a picture yet, - Wilt hear a music that will like thine ears, - Thou wilt see Henry, Monarch of half Europe, - The man who scoffs at monks, and uses men - As players, would poor chessmen for his use - To play with, thou wilt see this man - Shorn of his greatness, blasted like some trunk - Out in a wasteland, suing with suppliant knee, - And begging his royalty from the carpenter’s son. - - _Enter a_ Page, _who kneels_. - - _Page._ Your Holiness, Ambassadors wait without with letters - from Normandy. (_Presents letters._) - - _Hild._ (_Reads._) To his Holiness, the Lord Pope of Rome, - William of Normandy sendeth greeting; Holy Father thine - obedient son and ally, William, Prince of the Normans, who - is about invading England for the purpose of putting the - outlawed Saxon under the power of Holy Church, would humbly - beseech thy immediate public blessing on his undertaking. - This land be sworn by Harold in fief to William, on the bones - of holy saints. - [Signed] WILLIAM. - - _Hild._ Ha, Insolent! - - _Pet._ Writeth he thus to the successor of Peter? - - _Hild._ Insolent! Ally, ally to me, Gregory. - Immediate, poor suppliant truly this. - Ah, Europe, Europe, thou art hard to grind. - This rude wolf would make a bargain, aye, - ’Tis little he doth care for Holy Church. - He’ll filch my England’s abbeys, waste her towns, - To fill his Norman lusts. Yet he is strong. - I’ll use this wolf to bow the Saxon neck. - - _Pet._ Send him thy curse. - - _Hild._ Nay, Peter, he would laugh and throat it down - In Rhenish flagon. What cares he for Popes - But for his uses? I will send my curse - Some other day, to-day will go my blessing. - My curses I have need of for this Henry. - (_To_ Page.) Show them in. - - _Enter_ Ambassadors. - - _Hild._ You come from Normandy. - - _1st Am._ Yea, my lord, we would pray your holiness’ blessing. - - _Hild._ Then you have it. - My heart is ever with my Norman children. - Would that they loved war less and peace the more. - O Angel of Peace, when wilt thou compass Europe? - Tell William he is my well-beloved son, - High in my favor, take my blessing to him, - God’s mercy goes to England when he goes, - And Holy Church’s curse on all his foes. - - _Pet._ Amen. - - _Ambs._ My lord, our thanks. We are blest indeed. - - _Hild._ (_To_ Page.) Bring hither our most costly banner. - (Page _brings banner_.) (HILDEBRAND _takes banner_.) - May all who fight beneath thee ever conquer, - And heaven strike the foe that meeteth thee. - (_Gives the banner._) Take this banner to our well-beloved - William of Normandy, and say thus to him,-- - That sending him this we make him, William of England. - - _Amb._ We will, Your Holiness. - - _Hild._ My blessing with you. By him who maketh kings, - Go you propitious. - - _Exit_ Ambassadors. - - _Hild._ They came in proud, they went out meek enough. - Give me but time and I will tame all wolves - From Alps to Appenines. - - _Enter_ Page. - - _Page._ More ambassadors await without, your Holiness. - - _Hild._ From whence? - - _Page._ Germany, your Holiness. - - _Hild._ Ha, ha, now, we meet another matter. - - _Pet._ Now thou growest iron. - - _Hild._ Yea, then I gave with smiles what I owned not - Now here with sternness I would hold mine own. - There is no Pope while there’s an Emperor, - ’Tis my chief creed. Give me the letter. - (_Reads_) Ha, what be this? Refuses to retire - The German abbot he made without my leave, - Tells me that being king he holds in fief - All power of benefice. The hound! the hound! - I’ll make him stoop. I’ll crush his pride out yet. - Yea, more, he says he’s coming soon to Rome - To take his crown of Empery at my hands, - Then craves my blessing, sent him with all speed, - “Your filial son.” A filial son, indeed, - A son of Hell, was fitter sonship. Peter, - This king makes me a devil. - - _Pet._ Send him thy curse, thy ban, ’twere fitting answer - To such a message. - - _Hild._ Nay, I will try him yet, not that last move, - Till lesser fails. Call in the Cardinals. - - Cardinals _file in_. Ambassadors _are brought in_. - - _Hild._ You come from His Majesty, Henry of Germany. - - _Amb._ We do, your Holiness. - - _Hild._ It grieves me much that our unfilial son - Should keep from Holy Church those ancient powers - Given to her of old and handed down, - Gifts to Peter. - - _Amb._ What be these powers, your Holiness? - - _Hild._ Powers of right, powers of gift, powers of office, - Powers to loose and bind, lift and lower, bless and ban. - - _Amb._ Hath she not yet those powers, my Lord? - - _Hild._ Nay, nay, and never shall until she may - Enforce those powers, by other stronger powers. - Abbeys, Bishoprics, Priesthoods, whose are these? - Peter’s or Cæsar’s? Gregory’s or Henry’s? - - _Amb._ The king saith not, my lord. - - _Hild._ Tell Henry, our undutiful son, so soon - As he doth show his fealty to the Church, - By rendering up to her those pristine gifts - Of benefice, and giveth to her hands, - What unto her belongs, so soon will she - Grant him her blessing. Tell him, mighty Peter, - Christ’s Vicar and ambassador of God - Speaketh by me, the seventh Gregory, - Calling unto him to do my will, - Or dread my curse. - - _Amb._ Yea, my Lord. - - _Hild._ Tell him that He who makes and unmakes, - Lifts and lowers, thrones and dethrones, - Speaks by me. - - [_Exit_ Ambassadors, Cardinals _and_ PETER. - - _Page._ The Countess of Canossa awaits without, my Lord. - - _Hild._ Show her within. - - _Enter_ BEATRICE. - - _Hild._ My gentle Countess, saintly Beatrice, - Welcome to my first royalty of Heaven. - Thou comest to me as cometh the evening star - After the heat and turmoil of the day, - Shedding the beauty of thy womanliness - On my rude cares. How fares Canossa? - - _Beat._ O, Hildebrand, I come to thee no star, - But rather as a brook to some great river, - I flee me to the succor of thy presence. - - _Hild._ Doth he so use thee, our one flower of women? - The brute, the beast, hath he maltreated thee? - - _Beat._ Nay, not that yet, but leagues him, I much fear, - With that mad King of Germany. - - _Hild._ Henry, agen! - Wait a little yet, we’ll heal that ulcer. - - _Beat._ You know poor Bishop Gudrun, he is dead. - - _Hild._ Nay, when died he? He was a goodly priest. - But scarce a zealous pastor. So he’s gone? - - _Beat._ When I would come to thee to fill his place, - Canossa, with a loud and brutal laugh, - Says, nay, the Emperor must fill the chair - And at his prayer the licentious Prince hath sent - One of his courtiers, some rude, worldly man, - To fill the benefice. He laughs at thee, - And puts thy new reforms to open scorn. - - _Hild._ Wait, sweet Beatrice, water not thy face - And weaken not my heart with thy sad tears. - Canossa knoweth not he hath an enemy - More deadly than he fears, who is a devil. - Did I but let him loose and he would sweep - Earth and Italy clear of such Canossas. - O Beatrice, this is a world of woes, - And I being many men have many woes, - I climb so many hills my feet grow weary; - Now, I’m a king and fain would rule this earth, - Now am a saint and fain would purge its ills, - Now am a priest and fain would throttle its wills, - Again the man with all a man’s desire - To feel and hate and love as other men. - O Beatrice, I would I were deep heaven - To wear so pure a star upon my breast. - When I see thee, this world with all its cares, - Its hard ambitions, hates and hellish battles, - Doth vanish past, like day at evening’s hour, - When only sweet thoughts stay. Must go so soon? - - _Beat._ Yea, My Lord, but I will come again. - - _Enter an_ Abbot _and several_ Monks _dragging an old man with a long - beard, who is accused of witchcraft. The_ Abbot _and_ Monks _fall on - their faces. The old man stands._ - - _Hild._ Stand! (_They all stand up trembling._) Who be this? - - _Ab._ Most Holy Pope, Vicar of Christ, Lord of the Church, - Keeper of the Keys;-- - - _Hild._ Nay. Make thy speech brief! - - _Ab._ Most Holy,--that is to say, we are accursed. - - _Hild._ Even so. Ye look it. Proceed! - - _Monks._ Yea! yea! um! um! - - _Ab._ Yea, Most Holy, we be much accursed by reason of yon - cursed--(_The old man takes out some tablets and seating - himself on the floor proceeds to calculate._) - - _Ab._ Yon, yon-- - - _Hild._ Say on, Sirrah! Accursed? hast lost thy tongue? (Abbot - _and_ Monks _all groan_.) Speak on or means shall be found to - make thee! - - _Ab._ Nay, nay, Most Holy! He be cursing us now wi’ his - deviltries. I may not mention his name because of the blight. - Wilt thou not bless me so that I may proceed unharmed? - - _Hild._ (_Makes the sign of the cross._) Yea, ’tis done. - Proceed! - - _Ab._ (_Growing bolder._) Yon cursed dog of a sorcerer hath - bewitched us all. - - _Monks._ Yea, yea, Most Holy. - - _Hild._ He hath then but little to do. - - _Ab._ Nay, Most Holy, he hath done much. - - _Hild._ (_To_ WIZ.) Stand up! (_The wizard remains sitting, - gazes at_ HILD., _then at_ Monks, _then returns to his - calculations_.) - - _Hild._ Wilt thou stand up? (_To_ Monks) Make him! - - _Ab. and Monks._ Nay, nay, he be making devils wheels at us - now, even now we be dead men. - - (_The old man finishes his calculation, then rises slowly and - approaches_ HILD.) Hast thou sent for me? - - _Hild._ Who art thou? - - _Wiz._ I am the centre, Macro, acro, Magister, ha! ha! ha! - - _Hild._ (_To_ AB.) What hath he done? - - _Ab._ Oh, Oh, Most Holy, everything. - - _Hild._ Name his offence. - - _Ab._ He hath lamed Brother Benedict, rheumed Brother Isaac, - physiced Brother Petrice, hath slain Brothers Wildert, Gebert - an’ Andrice, hath tied us all up by the heels to the devil, - an’ hath bewitched the whole convent. - - _Hild._ (_To_ WIZ.) Hast done this? - - _Wiz._ Hast done what? mensa, mensae, mensae, ha! ha! ha! - (_Sits down and proceeds to make angles and circles._) - - _Ab._ He be ever like this, Most Holy, as thou seest. - - _Hild._ Will he not understand? I would know his manner of - thought. - - _Ab._ It is by reason of his magic and his great age, Most - Holy. - - _Hild._ How old be he? - - _Ab._ Some say one thousand, some five hundred, but the most - three hundred and fifty years, Most Holy. - - _Hild._ Nay! How do you converse with him? - - _Ab._ We hang him by the thumbs till he answer that be one way. - - _Wiz._ (_Shakes his fist at_ AB.) Macro, acro, sacro, ha, ha, - ha. - - _Hild._ This man be mad. - - _Wiz._ Yea, all mad, mad, prayers, fasts, prayers, saints, - tinkle, tinkle, all mad, yea, they are all mad, acro, macro, - I am the centre, hear me. - - _Hild._ Didst thou bewitch these? (_Pointing at_ Abbot _and_ - Monks.) - - _Wiz._ Ha! ha! All swine, all swine. - - _Hild._ Dost thou hear me? - - _Wiz._ Ha, ha, three fat, three lean, one ascragged, antimonium - a portion, nutgalls two portions, soak till midnight and go - to couch with much fasting. Wouldst thou more? - - _Ab._ Thou seest, Most Holy, he hath a devil. This same did - slay three of our brothers with his devil’s antimonium or - some such potion. - - _Wiz._ They did desire to be fat. I did but potion them. ’Twere - not my fault that they died of over-feeding. - - _Hild._ Antimonium? Where didst thou get thy use for such a - potion? - - _Wiz._ By watching of the swine at their feeding. Some of this - did by chance get mixed with their provender, and those that - did eat of it grew quickly corpulent, and I,--thought me-- - - _Hild._ ’Twould suit the monks? - - _Wiz._ Yea, but they overfed-- - - _Hild._ And died? - - _Wiz._ Yea. - - _Hild._ But these others--they accuse thee of their disorders. - - _Wiz._ (_To_ Monks.) Feed less, drink less, toil more, sleep - less. Go not with the women, an your curse will leave you, - ha, ha. - - _Ab._ Nay, he hath a devil. We be church’s men. - - _Hild._ Ye look it, what else doth he? - - _Ab._ He maketh magic. He hath a devil’s wheel and he hath - blasphemed saying he knoweth how many times the spoke of - a wheel goeth to make the rim, thus meddling with matters - abhorred. More, he saith the world be a ball, an floateth - on nothing, the which we know to be a foul lie, seeing - the Fathers have taught it be flat and standing on the - foundations with Hell beneath. - - _Hild._ (_To_ WIZ.) Be this true? - - _Wiz._ Yea, I am Magister, know all, cure all. - - _Hild._ Canst thou cure disease? - - _Wiz._ What wouldst thou have? Hast thou a flux, a frenzy, - an evil eye, a gnawing of the tooth, a rheum, a discord, a - gravel, a dysentry, a dropsy, a nightmare, an I can cure - thee? The heart of a hen, the eye of a dragon, the tooth of - a snake, the nose of a beetle caught twixt dusk and sunrise, - all be a preventative agenst mala, medicanta. Yea, for all - frenzies, camel’s brain an gall, rennet of seal, spittle of - crocodile, an blood of turtle, taken with much prayer be - certain remedies. - - _Hild._ Indeed, of a verity, man thou art much accursed with - knowledge. - - _Wiz._ Ha, ha. Wouldst try me? - - _Hild._ Nay, I be well, and thou sayest this earth be a sphere? - - _Wiz._ Yea, ’tis truth. See here. - - _Hild._ And it floateth on nothing? - - _Wiz._ Yea, yea, wouldst thou not learn? Wouldst thou not - listen? - - _Hild._ Ha. - - _Ab._ Thou seest he hath a devil. He honoureth not even thee, - Most Holy. - - _Wiz._ (_To_ HILD.) Wilt thou not listen? Art thou also as - these fools? An age of fools! An age of fools! Macro, macro, - I am the centre. (_Falls to calculating anew._) - - _Hild._ Peace, peace, Sirrah, I would hear thee agen on this - strange matter. Thou wilt stay here. (_To the_ AB. _and_ - Monks.) And ye back to your monastery, and do as he saith, - feed less, drink less, toil more, sleep less, and go not with - the women, and I will remove your curse. Now begone! - - _Ab. and Monks._ (_Bowing out._) O holy father, we be much - accursed! - - _Wiz._ (_Shakes his fist at them._) Acro, macro. (_They flee in - great terror._) - - _Enter_ PETER. - - _Pet._ More woes, more woes, more woes, another woman! - - (_Enter_ Page.) A strange woman would see your Holiness. - - (_Enter_ CATHERINE _wrapt in a cloak. She advances and throws the - cloak off_.) - - _Hild._ Catherine! - - _Cath._ Hildebrand! - - _Hild._ ’Tis thou! - - _Cath._ Yea, my Lord. Thy wife! (_Kneeling at his feet._) - O, holy Father, by all the love that once - United our two hearts, I plead with thee, - Have mercy on the daughter of thy love. - - _Hild._ My daughter! nay, Woman, not so, not so! - - _Cath._ Yea, I have sought thee out these many years, - Did track thee to thy monastery then here. - O save thy daughter, mighty Hildebrand. - - _Hild._ (_Turns and covers himself with his cloak._) - O Woman, Woman, I know thee not. Away! - I know not wife save only Holy Church. - - _Pet._ Away! away! cursed Woman, away! - Presume not on Christ’s Vicar, the great Pope, - The father of his people and the world. - - _Cath._ O me! accursed me! I come not here - To curse thee, nor to bless, nor yet presume - To dare pollute thy state by name of husband. - ’Tis only but a common, human word - Belonging to the poor ones of this world:-- - But to beseech the Holy Pope of Rome - To cover with corner of his mercy’s mantle - The daughter of his loins. - - _Hild._ O, Peter, Peter, take this woman away. - - _Pet._ Begone Woman. Thou art sacrilegious. - - _Cath._ Nay, spurn me not, she is my only daughter, - I pray thee help her, ’tis a little thing, - For thee who hath so much of worldly power, - To lift thy hand and by a single word - Restore her happiness. - - _Hild._ O Woman, what would’st thou ask? - - _Cath._ She is our daughter, awful Hildebrand, - Married short time unto that goodly priest - Gerbhert, of St. Amercia, at Milan. - - _Hild._ O, God! O, God! - - _Cath._ He is a holy clerk, well bred in orders, - Of good repute among his loving people, - Who look up to him as their Father in God, - Dwelling among them as the beckoning hand - Leading to heaven. - - _Hild._ O, God! O, merciful God! - - _Cath._ They have a little babe, a sweet, wee mite - Just come from Heaven. - - _Pet._ Hence, Scorpion, know ye not this is the Holy Father? - - _Cath._ Remove this curse, those terrible monks have placed - Upon his priesthood. - - _Hild._ O Woman, I cannot, I cannot. - - _Cath._ By all our former love! They cannot part! - He holds her as the apple of his eye, - She sees in him the man that God hath given. - Remove this awful curse. - - _Hild._ Woman, thou speakest to a columned stone, - I am a marble. If I have a heart, - Thou’lt hear it beating, rock within this rock, - Thou art a sea that beatest my sides in vain. - - _Cath._ Do I hear thee aright? Thou art adamant - Unto this piteous pleading of my heart, - Thou sendest thine only daughter, our sweet child, - Out into defenceless misery, breakest her heart. - Unnatural, unnatural, unnatural! - It seems but yesternight they said good-bye, - And now she sits and rocks her child and saith - Over and over agen its father’s name. - - _Pet._ Go, Woman, he is dead to thee and thine. - Hast thou no pity? Hast thou not one sigh - For this thy work? - - (HILDEBRAND _stands silently with his back to her, his cloak wrapt - about his face_.) - - _Cath._ Hast thou no pity? By all our past, one word, - One parting word. - - _Pet._ Thou speakest to a stone. Go! - - _Cath._ (_Goes out wringing her hands._) - O, Agony, O Misery, Blackness, Hell, - There’s no hope now. - - - SCENE II.--_The German Court, a Room in the Castle._ - - _Enter the_ QUEEN _and an_ Attendant. - - _Att._ This way, Your Majesty. - - _Queen._ You speak me, majesty. I am no Queen, - The lowest woman in this mighty realm, - Reigning in some humble herdsman’s heart, - Might top my queenship. O Henry, Henry, - What is there in my face, my form, my spirit, - That you should scorn me? Hath my essence changed, - Since by the holy altar facing Heaven - We plighted wedding troth; to less and less, - That you should hate me? - - (_Enter Bishop of Bamburg._) My Lord Bishop! (_Kneels._) - - _Bam._ (_Lifting her._) Nay, humble not thy lonely majesty, - Thy stately womanliness, most noble Margaret, - By such poor acts. - - _Queen._ O, Bamburg, be my angel, my good guide, - Leading me by roads to Henry’s favour. - Bring back his heart to its one-time allegiance, - And make earth’s springtime laugh for me once more. - - _Bam._ Nought in all my bishopric hath grieved me - Like this strange act of Henry’s. I have spoke him - Happily in all save only this. - Patience, my Lady, patience, look to Heaven. - Perchance some day he’ll know thy noble heart. - - _Queen._ O, Bamburg, as the queen of this great realm, - More sacred, as the mother of his child, - I beg you get me audience. Did I plead, - His heart might soften. - - _Bam._ Madam, thy wishes are to me commands, - I fear me much the issue in his mood, - But be my head the penalty, I will bring - You to him. [_Exit both._ - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE III.--_An Audience Room in the Castle. Enter_ Attendant. _Enter_ - HENRY _in haste, with_ GILBERT _a_ Lord. - - _Hen._ Now by my crown, I’ll harry those villains out. - (_To the Page._) Quick, wine! (_To Gilbert.]_) You say this news be - true. - This Saxon Rodulph, would pluck Henry down, - And wear his Empery. Ha, this likes me well! - - _Gil._ ’Tis said, Your Majesty, the Saxon towns - Have all revolted. - - _Hen._ And Rudolph leads them! - - _Enter_ BAMBURG. - - Well, Bamburg, have you heard the latest news? - The North’s revolted. Rodulph heads the Saxons - To conquer Germany and take my crown, - And on it all, this bold, insulting letter, - Reads me a lesson from His Holiness, - Yon arrogant priest, the scheming Pope of Rome. - - _Bam._ Henry, as your father’s oldest friend, - As your most faithful subject I would plead, - Be not o’er hasty in this sudden business. - - _Hen._ Bamburg, I am sick of being a child, - You drive me mad by your pacific measures. - While you are dallying, they will ride me down - With squadrons and with curses. Nay, no more! - I’ll ride me north and show mine enemies - I’ll bring yon Rodulph’s head upon a pike-pole. - - _Bam._ What of this Roman message? - - _Hen._ Call in the messengers. (_Enter a_ Cardinal _and a_ Roman - bishop.) - (_To Ambs._) Go you to Rome? - - _Card._ Yea, Your Majesty. - - _Hen._ Go, tell your master, if he be the Pope - That I am Emperor, who can lift him down. - Tell him, in spiritual matters, Henry bows - To his opinion, in matters temporal, never! - This is my answer, safe speed you Romewards. - - [_Exit_ Ambassadors. - - _Bam._ Your Majesty, before you go will see - But one more suppliant. - - _Hen._ Nay, Bamburg, nay not now, I’m hurried. - - _Bam._ By my love, I beseech you! - - _Hen._ Is it so urgent? Well, be hasty Bamburg. - My troops await me, and my sword-arm aches - To hack yon Rodulph. - (_Enter_ Queen _veiled_.) Who be this? - - _Bam._ One who deserves your patience and your love, - If you love aught on earth, proud Henry. - Go you not forth to battle with your foes - Till you have made your spirit’s peace with her, - Your realm’s Queen, the mother of your child. - - _Hen._ Bamburg, Bamburg, you trifle with my kindness. - This goes too far, know you that I am King! - One word and I will hale you to a dungeon - For this insult. - - _Queen._ Henry, my Lord, one word before you go. - What have I done to gather all this hate? - - _Bam._ Your Majesty may sever my poor body, - Mend you your love. Kill me, Henry, but - Murder not by scorn, the noblest love - That soul hath nourished. By these wintry hairs, - Though thou dost slay me, I will tell thee true - By this one act thou dost unking thyself. - - _Hen._ No more, by heaven, no more, I know her not. - When will my subjects treat me less the child? - I am no ward now, and I ever hated - This foolish, enforced marriage. Let her Majesty - Get to some retirement. She demeans - Herself by these forced meetings. [_Exit._ - - _Queen._ O Bamburg, I have lowered my queenliness - And cheapened my womanhood. I will no more. - Take me away. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE IV.--_A monastery near Milan. Night. Enter two monks_, BRUN, _a - fat little monk, and_ WAST, _a tall, lean one, with an extremely - ugly face_. - - _Brun._ How he doth take on, this new Friar Gerbhert. I had not - thought a man would lose his appetite for any woman. - - _Wast._ Ah, Brun, you gluttonous men know not of love. - Such dangerous passions are beyond thy ken, lacking the - attractive, the magnetic, you descend to lower pleasures. Now - look on me a victim to woman’s fancy. Within those walls I - find a haven from woman’s importunities. - - _Brun._ Verily, Brother, thou must have slain hearts. - - _Wast._ It was my daily sorrow, so many beauties sought me. - I could not walk the streets, but I were pestered. It did - sorrow me much, I could not pity all the passions I awoke, so - fled me here, sacrificing my prospects, my youth, my person, - rather than light fires I could not quench. (_Eyeing himself - in a metal hand-mirror._) Alas, alas, Brun, my beauty falleth - off sadly of late. - - _Brun._ Yea, thou hast a haggard cast to thy looks. It wonders - me much where all thy provender goeth, it doth thee so little - service. - - _Wast._ Ah, Brun, Brun, so many broken hearts, so many tender - reminiscences. But thou canst not touch my feelings. Yea, - Brun, didst thou but know the former dignity, the port, the - carriage of my person; the flash, the majesty of my eye; the - symmetry, the moulding of my form; thou wouldst but marvel at - this ruin I am. - - _Brun._ I doubt it not old Sucker, but let not thy former - beauty fret thy present comliness out o’ countenance. - - _Wast._ Nay Brother, I will so endeavor, but I am ever on the - tremble lest some one of those former victims, in cruel - desperation maddened, may find me here and seize my person. - Brun, wilt thou protect me in such extremity, wilt thou, - Brother? - - _Brun._ Yea, that I will, thou Wreck of former perfection. If - any misguided person of that unfortunate sex be so seized by - distraction as to make formidable attack upon thy classic - person, she doth so on her peril, I promise thee, old - much-afflicted, my hand upon it. Be the bottle finished? (_A - knocking is heard without._) - - _Wast._ What be that sound? ’Tis she, ’tis she, at last! O me, - O me, what will I do? (_Gets behind_ BRUN.) Brun! Brother! - wilt thou protect me? - - _Brun._ Confusion take thee, Wast, now be a man. - - _Wast._ Yea, yea, I be a man, that be my sorrow, ah, oh, what - sh--all I do? (_Tries to hide himself in his cowl._) - - _Enter other monks in great confusion._ - - _All._ What be that noise? what be th--at no--ise? - - _One M._ (_Peers through the wicket and starts back in - horror._) ’Tis a--oh blessed Peter, ’tis a woman! - - _All._ What shall we do? O blessed Peter! what shall we do? - - _Wast._ I am undone, undone, my fatal beauty assails me even - here. - - _Brun._ Wast, quit thy folly, go close to the gate and question - her wants. - - _Wast._ Not me, not me, not for all heaven’s riches. - - _All M’s._ Nay, nay, let her not in. (_Knocking continues._) - Let us pray, Brothers, let us pray. (_All huddle together._) - - _Brun._ Then if ye will not, then I must ere the Abbot comes. - - _Monks fleeing._ Nay, nay, let her not in, a woman, a woman, a - woman! [_Enter Abbot._ - - _Abb._ Stop, Fools! (_All stop._) Be it the Devil at your - heels, ye flee so quickly? - - _All M’s._ A woman, a woman! (_Exit monks._) - - _Abb._ (_To_ BRUN.) Open the gate. (BRUN _opens gate_.--_Enter_ - MARGARET, _worn by illness and starvation_.) - - _Abb._ Woman, what want you here? - - _Marg._ I want my husband. (_At the back of the stage, in - a dimly-lit cell, behind a grating_, GERBHERT _is seen - kneeling. He rises, at sound of_ MARGARET’S _voice, a_ Monk - _holds a crucifix before him and he sinks back_.) - - _Abb._ Whom do you call by so profane a title within these holy - walls? - - _Marg._ My husband, Gerbhert, vicar at Milan. O let me see him, - our little one is dying. Where doth he linger aliened from - his home? (GERBHERT _comes forward again, the_ Monk _lifts - the crucifix and he goes back wringing his hands_.) - - _Abb._ This is his home, he knows no wife nor children, - You must go hence. - - _Marg._ If I called out unto these barren walls - And had they but a heart to hear my prayer, - Beneath their stony hardness they would open - To let me see him. - - _Abb._ You must go forth, you blaspheme these pure precincts. - Woman, go. - - _Marg._ Nay, drive me not forth, O holy Abbot, - By all you love, revere and hope on earth, - Drive me not forth, tear down this hideous wall - That hides me from my husband, let him know, - ’Tis only for a little, little while, - Did he but know our little one was ill, - He’d hasten in the first impulse of sorrow, - At its slight cry, he’d be all shook with pity, - And now its dying. Gerbhert! Gerbhert! come! - Where are you Gerbhert? - - _Abb._ You must go hence, or I will force you hence. - - _Marg._ I have no soul to curse you, your own soul - Be its own Hell for this unnaturalness. [_Goes out._ - I come, my fatherless one, to die with thee. - To die with thee. - - (GERBHERT _bounds forth_.) - - _Gerb._ Margaret! (_Shakes the grating._) Margaret! (_The_ Monk - _raises the crucifix, and_ GERBHERT _follows it slowly out_.) - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE V.--(_Audience room in the Papal palace. Enter_ HILDEBRAND - _wearing his purple robe of state and with him_ PETER DAMIANI. - _Enter a page._) - - _Page._ An Ambassador waits without, your Holiness. - - _Hild._ From whence? Germany? - - _Page._ Yea, my Lord. - - _Hild._ Ha, now, the tide went out, the tide comes in. ’Tis but - the spray to mine own thunders. Now, we’ll hear his answer to - the Papal Curse. - - _Pet._ Wilt thou receive a message from one accursed? He is no - king, no ruler any more. This is no embassy. - - _Hild._ Perchance, it may be prayer for pardon. Henry knoweth - by this the power of Hildebrand. - - _Page._ My Lord, it be but a rude petitioner hath come. - He tells no beads, nor maketh any prayers, - But rather stamps an’ mutters, raves an’ swears, - And sendeth Rome an’ all her cardinals - To Hell twice every minute. - - _Pet._ Hale him to prison, the loud, blaspheming hound, - The damp of some rock cell would bring him round - To proper reverence for thy holy office, - He may intend a murder on thy person, - Let him not in. - - _Hild._ Nay, but I will. Like master, like his dog, - I fain would see the issue of this cursing. - Yea, I would see this German foam at mouth, - Fear not, I’ll match him, call the Cardinals in. - - (_Exit_ Page. _Enter_ Cardinals, _who stand behind the Pope_.) - - (_Enter the page, followed by the German Ambassador, who - remains standing._) - - _Hild._ (_To_ Cardinals.) On your lives keep peace whatever he - doth do. Leave him to me. (_To the_ Ambassador.) Kneel! - - _Amb._ Nay, I’ll not kneel to thee or other man - Till I have said my message. - - _A Card._ Kneel, impious Man, ’tis the Lord Pope. - - _Pet._ Hale him out, German Dog, Blasphemer, - He hath insulted the Holy Father. - - _Amb._ (_Draws._) Come on ye cowardly Monks, I scorn ye all, - Were he a king I’d bow my knee to him, - An Emperor, an’ I might buss his hand, - But only Pope, why popes have bribed me vain - To slay your betters. - - _Hild._ Silence: am I Pope indeed, why blame this man, - When ye, obedient, insult me with your clamors. - - (_To the_ Amb.) Hail you from Germany? - - _Amb._ I do, proud Priest, my name is Wolf of Bamburg, - Cradled in a nest that ne’er knew fear, - Bred of a breed that hath a joy of killing. - ’Tis not a monk would make me tremble here. - My time is short, I would repeat my message. - - _Hild._ What be thy message? - - _Amb._ ’Tis to thee, proud Priest, an’ it doth come from Henry. - - _Hild._ Speak! - - _Amb._ Henry of Germany, whom in thine insolence, - Thou cursedst with thy foulest blasphemies, - Sendeth me, Wolf of Bamburg, unto thee, - To hurl thine arrogant curses in thy face, - And tell thee thou art no pope but a damned priest, - Who stolest thy popedom. - - _Pet._ Hale him out, tear him to pieces. (_A great clamor - rises. The_ Cardinals _would attack him_.) - - _Hild._ Silence! on your lives! This man is mine! (_To_ Wolf.) - Speak on! - - _Amb._ He further saith to thee, thou bastard Pope, - As Emperor of Rome, come down, come down! - And leave that chair thou foully hast usurped, - And I his servant, say to thee, come down! - - _All Cards._ Devil! German Dog! Tear him to pieces! (_All rush - forward._) - - _Hild._ (_Tears off his robe and throws it over the_ - Ambassador.) Back! or fear my curse! Who strikes at that - strikes me! - - _All._ Nay, this is a devil. - - _Hild._ Were he Satan himself, beneath that robe he were As - sacred as God’s holiest angel! - - (_To_ Amb.) Go Man and tell thy master, who is no king, - That Gregory hath one single word for him, - And that is pity. Let him ask his God - To pardon him as I do pardon him. - I lay no curse upon the innocent. - When he comes penitent to me in tears - I will receive him. Go! (_Exit_ Amb.) - (_To_ Cardinals.) Have ye no reverence for Gregory that, - Ye should revile revilings in this house? - God’s ministers should ever be men of peace, - And not a maddened rabble. As our Lord, - In that last season of his great martyrdom, - Bade holy Peter sheathe the angry sword, - So I rebuke ye. Had he slain me here, - You’d not have touched him! [_Exit_ Cardinals. - - _Pet._ Hildebrand, sometimes it thinketh me - Thou hast a magic, thou art the strangest Pope - Yet seen in Rome. That man, who came blaspheming, - Went out your slave. - - _Hild._ Ah, Peter, know, we must meet fools with guile. - ’Tis better to be subtle than be strong. - I sometimes dream the greatest innocence - Is but the mantle to the deepest guile, - And men but stab the deeper when they smile. - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT III. - - - SCENE I.--(_A deserted camp._) _Enter_ HENRY _alone_. - - _Hen._ What is a king’s weak royalty to this Power - That lifts the crowns from kings and plucks them down - From earth-built majesties? I yesterday - Who wore a crown and called me Emperor - To these dominions, held a people’s fear, - To bind or loose betwixt my hollow hands, - Made and unmade, held life and death in fee, - Made dukedoms tremble at my royal coming, - And at my beck squadroned the earth with armies, - Am at his word a lonely, outcast man, - A stranger to the lordships of command, - Holding less power than doth my meanest subject. - Then did all eyes but follow at my glance, - All hands lift to the twitching of my thumb. - Did I but hate, a thousand scabbards clanged - To do me vengeance. Had I a single longing, - A myriad hearts trembled to beat my bidding. - But now I am so mean earth’s very slaves - Might pass me by, nor think to do me reverence. - What is this one man’s Power, this mighty Will, - That lifts its hand, saith suddenly yea or nay, - And peoples forget their duty to their lords, - And nobles forfeit reverence for their kings - And all of royalty’s golden splendor is wrecked - And shattered like a rainbow in a storm! - O Gregory, O Gregory, thou awful man, - Didst thou but speak I might become a clod, - Or weed or senseless turf beneath thy feet. - - _Enter the Bishop of Bamburg and a noble._ - - _Hen._ Come now and strip me, let my very life - But follow my royalty. - - _Bam._ O, my poor Liege! - - _Lord._ Yea, they have left him lone enough indeed. - Damn this Pope’s cursing. - - _Hen._ Why call me Liege? The king hath gone, my Lord. - He went out yesterday when Gregory’s curse - Filled all this precinct. I am only Henry, - A leprous, palsied, outcast, damnéd man. - Where are my servants? Have they fled me too? - - _Bam._ They have, my Liege! - - _Hen._ Gregory thou mighty monster, what art thou? - Thou art not God, for God at least is kind. - Thou art not nature, its workings are too slow - For such a sudden miracle. Why dost thou not - Take even my sight and hearing? It ’mazes me - Those be not fled. Yea, even my Taste and Smell, - What blasphemous Ministers these that do my bidding - Against thy mighty word. Take all, take all, - And let me die. - - _Bam._ Sire, lose not your courage. Even yet, - A few of us for love of Heaven and thee, - Defy this haughty prelate. Shake at Rome - Defiance of her curses. Though a million curs, - With tail twixt legs flee at a bit of writing, - Forget that they are men because one man, - Who thinks him God, would shake with his poor thunders - The cowards of Europe; know that there be yet - A few hearts left thee. Gregory takes thy crown, - He hath not got thy manhood, that obeys - The laws of thine own nature. Show this priest, - This blasphemous usurper of our humanities, - That he may strip the moss but leave the tree - Of all thy kingship standing. - - _Lord._ Yea, my Liege, some swords be left thee yet. - - _Hen._ And ye still own me? Fear ye not this curse, - That blacks the world, the very earth I stand on; - Unkings me all, annuls my fatherhood, - Blasts all mine organs, refts me from my kind. - The very heaven must shut from me its light, - The stars no more look kindly, Night no more - Give me her holy balm, sweet, blessed sleep. - No friend, nor child, nor wife, this drives me out - Beyond the human. Say ye even yet - That ye do own me? This doth much amaze me. - - _Bam._ We love thee yet and own thy majesty, - And kneel to thy allegiance. - - _Hen._ If this were real, Henry’s heart could weep - With human gladness, but ’tis merely fancy. - You’d shrivel up like podshells were you men. - The very ground I stand on is accursèd. - No more may flowers therefrom, but only thorns - And noisesome weeds proceed. Away! away! - Ere ye be cursèd. - - _Bam._ He seemeth distracted. - - _Lord._ This curse doth lie full heavy of a truth. - Damn that Pope, if I but get to Rome - There’ll be two Popes. I’ll slice him i’ the middle. - Yea, I’ll create a fleshy schism ’twill bother - These damned, lewd priests to reckon. - - _Bam._ My Lord, great Henry, hearken to thy friend, - ’Tis Bamburg, he who loved thee as a child. - Dost know me? - - _Hen._ It seemeth I know thee Bamburg, or ought to know, - Did not this haze of Hell o’erweight me down. - I thought thee fled. Why dost thou stand with me? - Knowest thou not that I am one accursed? - - _Bam._ Hath nature no pity? - - _Hen._ Were it the Queen alone who fled I’d bear it. - I never treated her as she deserved. - She was too kind, I used her brutal, Bamburg, - I used her brutal, she who was so kind. - Her voice was soft, but this my heart forgot - In that forced marriage. Had she fled alone - I had not minded, but the ones I loved, - The men I made and builded, raised them up, - Who drank my cup, took honors from my hand, - And made the heavens ring with their acclaims - Were I victorious: that all these should melt - Like some magician’s smoke at Gregory’s word; - ’Tis monstrous; yea, so monstrous, that meseems - The heavens be turned to iron and yon cold sun - Be but a tearless socket turned upon me; - And Pity and Mercy all those kindly ministers - Fled from the universe where Henry stands, - Yea, Bamburg, had the mighty Lord of all - Such power of unrelenting as this Gregory, - The very fountains of nature would dry up, - The kindly elements refuse their office, - And morn and even, noon and cooling night - With blessed dews and sunlight, cease to be; - Till earth would stand one shrivelled chaos under - The pitiless heaven that looks on Henry now. - - _Bam._ ’Tis the Queen that we be come about my Liege, - ’Tis she hath sent us. - - _Hen._ To mock my sorrow with false courtesies, - To note my shame and carry to her ears - My misery. O iron Ones, have ye - No mercy left? - - _Bam._ Nay, nay, my Liege, curse not but hearken me, - The noble woman we call Germany’s Queen. - Sendeth unto Henry, greeting thus: - Though thou hast not an army thou hast love, - Though thou hast not a subject, yet a king - To her alone, her king of kingly men; - Though thou art cursed she still will keep to thee. - - _Hen._ Oh Bamburg, this is worse than cursing, can kind Heaven - Hold such a blessing for a wretch like Henry? - - _Bam._ It can and doth, Her Majesty waits without. - - _Hen._ O, Bamburg I cannot see her, her true love, - Would so shame all my falseness all mine ill, - It seems her love would slay me. [_Enter_ MARGARET. - - _Marg._ Henry! - - _Hen._ My Queen! (_They embrace._) - Gregory, O Gregory, where is thy curse? - - _Marg._ This is our child, look up, look up, my Liege, - Thy subjects may desert thee, Heaven doth not. - - _Hen._ Gregory, O Gregory, where is thy curse? - It seemed so heavy an hour ago that earth - And very heaven were weighted with its murk, - Yet now it lightens. I am a man agen. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE II.--(_Rise outer Curtain. A yard outside the castle at Canossa. - Enter two_ Monks _telling their beads_.) - - _1st M._ By ’r Lady, t’was a rare sight, a rare sight, t’was - never known afore, nor ever be agen in Europe. - - _2nd M._ He comes agen this morn, ’tis three days since - He’s stood i’ the courtyard suing Gregory’s favour. - - _1st M._ The king of Europe! This be the Church’s hope, - May every season send us a Pope. - I must within ere Brother John doth make - A fast which little fits my hunger’s constant ache. - - _2nd M._ T’wixt heady wine an’ table well provide’, - ’Tis a faring world till coming Eastertide. [_Exit._ - - _Enter two_ Soldiers. - - _1st S._ This Gregory hath given us such a sight - As makes all Germany ashamed for. - I’ll never more hold jealousy of kings. - Better to bed upon old soaken straw - An’ be a targe for pikepoles than be a king. - - _2nd S._ He looked as though the whole world shot its darts - On his bare forehead. - - _1st S._ Yea, an’ his poor Queen, didst see her sue - Upon her knees, to gain her lord’s admission. - May such a sight ne’er greet mine eyes agen. - - _2nd S._ See, now they come. It shames my soldierhood - To see a king ensuffer such dishonour. - He is no Pope would hold so black a malice, - To pluck from hell. Let’s out. [_Exit both._ - - _Enter_ HENRY _attired in rude clothes, bareheaded and barefooted, - with a wisp of straw about his waist, and with him the_ QUEEN _in - black_. - - _Queen._ This way my Lord, perchance his stony heart - So beat upon by storming of our tears, - May soften its adamant. - - _Hen._ ’Tis for Germany and thee, I do this penance, - And for our sweet boy’s kingship, I, myself - Am all so calloused o’er by utter spite - Of too much curses showered by popes and fate, - It cares me little. Let the world go wrack, - The elements mingle in a loud confusion, - The maddened seas batten the ruined lands, - The forests shed their knotted limbs, the year - Be now all mad November. I am but - A wasted trunk whereon no brutish fate - Can wreck its malice. I am so annulled - Were all the devils of hell carnated popes, - Thundering anathemas on my stricken head, - T’would not appal me. I am come to this. - - _Queen._ Thou wilt meet him fairly, thou wilt think - Not on thy woes, but on thy dear son’s hopes. - - _Hen._ Fear not Margaret, meeting such a devil, - Who thinketh him a God, but I’ll dissemble. - I’m not the olden Henry that I was. - Mine inward pride will make mine outward meeker, - Subtility with subtility I’ll match - To wipe out this dishonour. [_Knocks at the gate._ - - _Enter_ Warder. - - _Ward._ Who be ye? - - _Hen._ Henry of Germany, whose November storms - Have stript his Summer’s royalty. - - _Ward._ What would you within, Henry of Germany? - - _Hen._ Knowest thou not, O Man, I am a King, - Though crownless, in these bleak, inclement times, - And this my sorrowful Queen. Wouldst thou not - Do her meet reverence? - - _Ward._ We know no King but the Holy Pope of Rome. - - _Hen._ I seek his presence. These three pitiless days, - All unavailing I have battered here - Humbling my royalty to his stern commands. - Were these gates less stony they would open. - - _Queen._ O, Warder, mercy! Pray the mighty Pope, - A moment’s audience. I am a stricken woman, - And this my husband, who, once called a King - Now doffs his kingship, garbed in penitence. - Hath he no pity? - - _Ward._ His Holiness hath harkened to thy suit, - And, be thou penitent, would pardon thee, - These be my orders, pass you now within. [_Opens gate._ - - _Queen._ Now, blessed be Heaven. Henry sink thy wrongs - In thy son’s future. - - _Hen._ Sink my wrongs? They have sunk so low, - That lower I cannot. Heaven but grant me space - Till I avenge me. [_Exit both._ - - (_Rise inner curtain._) _A chapel in the castle. Enter_ HILDEBRAND - _attended by_ Cardinals. _Enter_ BEATRICE _and her train. Enter_ HENRY - _and the_ QUEEN _as before. The_ QUEEN _kneels_. HENRY _stands_. - - _Queen_ (_to_ HEN.) Kneel! kneel! or all is lost. - - _Hild._ Kneel; proud Man, to Heaven. - - _Hen._ Yea, I will kneel to Heaven (_kneels_), (_aside_) but not - to thee. - - _Hild._ Henry of Germany, Usurper, know that thus - Doth Heaven chasten holy Church’s foes, - Not in hate or malice, but in love, - That showing earth more perilous, Heaven be safe, - Because of thy disloyalty to the Church, - Usurping those her ancient, holy rights, - Not holding thy kingship as given from her hand, - Hath angry Heaven stripped thee of thy crown, - Thy people and thy sceptre, rendering thee - The scornéd of the meanest outcast wretch - That hugs his rags in human wretchedness, - Abhorr’d and despised of those who once - Courted thy favour. Take this cruel lesson - Home to the prideful chambers of thy heart, - And know kings henceforth but as mortal men, - Their power ephemera of a summer day, - Be they not fief to Heaven. Be thy penitence - Sincere in this dread, humble hour of thine - Thou wilt become the vassal of high Heaven, - Mending thy future from thy sinful past. - - _Hen._ (_aside_) Great God! am I a King? What is a King? - Is he a dog to dare be spoken thus? - - _Queen._ (_aside._) Henry, for the love of Germany, - Me, and thy child, keep but thy patience now. - (_To_ HILD.) O, Holy Father, curb thine awful anger, - Remove this curse that weighteth Henry down, - Makes him a fearful leper to his kind, - Restore his people’s favour, thou hast the power, - And thou wilt do it. - - _Hild._ Madam, thou true daughter of the Church, - Hath this man used thee well that thou shouldst sue - For him our favour? Hath he not been false - To thee, to Germany and Holy Church? - Thou art a woman, use a woman’s art, - Break his presumption, soften his rude heart, - And we will soften ours. Meantime, to thee, [_To_ HENRY. - I would despatch my duty as high Pope - O’er my poor people, in this woeful world. - Know you, Henry of Germany, once a King, - But now a suppliant outcast at my feet, - Abandoned, abhorred of all true christian men, - The scorn alike of lowly and of high. - Know you I would be merciful a little. - For this cause I will now come down, come down, - As you through yours once blasphemously demanded, - From out my holy chair of sainted Peter, - And be like you, a single, naked man, - Leaving my cause with yours to mighty Heaven. - - _Cards._ O, noble soul: O, noble princely heart. - - _An Abbot._ Base Prince, base Prince, ’tis more than thou - deservest. - - _Hild._ Know, therefore, now, in presence of these men, - Members immaculate, of Holy Church, - That thou, through thy base agents and by mouth, - Didst charge me, Gregory, Prince of God on earth, - And Vicar of the mighty risen Christ, - With crimes unworthy of my holy state, - Heinous and awful, so hideous in their sound, - That they were better nameless, the tongue would fail - To use its office, giving them to the air. - Know, furthermore, that I in my high office, - Have placed thee under ban of Holy Church, - Shut out, abhorred and excommunicate, - Because of sins committed at thy hand, - Abhorrent and accursed in their nature, - Of which, God knows, I have the truest witness. - - (_Goes to an altar and taking a consecrated wafer, returns with it in - his hand._) - - Now, Henry of Germany, men may lie, - And even Popes be sinful, flesh is frail; - But Heaven at last will judge betwixt us two. (_Raising the wafer. - The_ Cardinals _all draw back in fear_.) - If I be liar in the smallest part, - Deceitful or malicious in that judgment, - Wherewith I have judged thee, heaping crimes - Unspeakable and abhorrent on thy head, - May listening Heaven which is only just, - Strike me, impious, with its awful thunders - While I eat this. [_Breaks the wafer in two and eats half._ - _A cry of wonder comes from the_ Cardinals. _There ensues a pause - of a few seconds, then he holds out the broken wafer to_ HENRY. - Henry of Germany, wilt thou do the same? - - _Hen._ (_Starts back in confusion and horror._) Nay, nay, - ’tis impious! ’tis impious! - - _Cards._ Guilty, guilty! - - _Hen._ (_Aside._) What influence be this I fight against? - This devil doth ever place me in the wrong. - - _Hild._ Henry of Germany, wilt thou perform the same - And leave thine innocence to the power of Heaven? - - _Hen._ (_Stands boldly up and confronts_ HILD.) Most mighty - Hildebrand, Prelate of Holy Rome, - Though to refuse thy gage be to acknowledge - His consciousness of human frailty, - Henry of Germany, whate’er his sins, - Hath too much sense of Heaven’s mighty justice - To desecrate the eternal bending Ear - By such blasphemings. I am no priest of God, - I am no Pope, august, infallible, - But only a weak and fallible sinning man, - As Heaven knoweth. But in this grave matter, - If thou be right and I be wholly wrong, - Heaven knoweth already without such dread presumption. - ’Tis not for Church but men you judge this issue, - Hence, I demand a larger audience, - Tribunal more public than these witnesses, - Impartial, unprejudiced toward my wrongs, - So be I judged, it be not in a corner. - Meanwhile, if I have erred, in my new kingship - In word or deed against thy holy office - Here as a faithful son of holy Church - By that great love I bear for Germany, - By that dread duty I owe my wife and child, - I crave thy pardon and beseech thy blessing. [_Kneels._ - - _Hild._ Henry of Germany, thou standest now, - Rebuked of Heaven before the eyes of men. - As I had power to place thee under ban, - Alienate from holy Church and men, - So I withdraw that ban from off thee now. - Arise, my Son, in thy new penitence, - The Church commands thee, rise, and go in peace. - - HENRY _stands. The_ Pope _and the_ Cardinals _pass out_. - - _Hen._ ’Tis off! ’tis off, I am a man once more. - Out! out! let us without! I cannot breathe - In these damned walls! - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE III.--(_A poorly furnished room._ MARGARET _seated by a meagre - fire nursing her sick child_.) - - _Marg._ O Gerbhert! Gerbhert! in what living stone - Are you entombed, dead to our sorrow now? - Ah, my poor Baby, fatherless, fatherless, now. - Dying! dying! Like a pallid candle, - I watch your little spark to less and less - Go slowly deathwards. Hark! I hear a step, - Hush your moans, my Babe. Was it your cry? - Or but the wind, the icy, winter wind, - The cruel midnight, eating with icy tooth - The hearts of mortals? - - _Enter_ ARIALD. - - _Ar._ Margaret, I have come! - - _Marg._ Yea, so have Winter, Misery, Despair and Death, - Your kindlier brothers. Hunger may be gaunt, - But he is honest. Death be terrible, - But he hath mercy on the pinchéd cheek - And cruel, tortured heart; but who art thou? - - _Ar._ Knowest me not, Margaret? - - _Marg._ I know the Pope, who is a monster stone - That all the world like some poor maddened sea, - Might beat against and break and break in vain; - I know earth’s misery, its inhuman silence, - Where gaunt and shadowy eyes glare round and watch - The slow, brute process nearer, day by day - Of hunger gnawing at the walls of life; - But thee I know not, thou art far too dread - For my poor knowledge. When I see thy face - This earth doth seem a hell and God a devil. - - _Ar._ Margaret, forswear this maddened mood. - Catherine, your mother killed herself, - By her own folly, hoping against hope. - Bethink you of your child. You murder it - In killing my poor hopes. Give me thy love, - And life to thy sweet babe, be not so cruel, - You forced me to this, I would not have stirred - One finger to molest you or your child, - Had you not by your beauty raised in me - A longing for to own you, call you mine. - Gerbhert never loved as I have loved, - It eats me like a wasting all these years. - Had I been Gerbhert, master of your love, - And this my child, I would have fought the world, - Ere I’d have left you, dared both Hell and Heaven, - Rather than let one furrow groove your cheek, - One sorrow rack your soul. O Margaret, Margaret, - Say but the word, that I may save thy child, - Give me the right to fan that poor flame back, - And thine old beauty to its former glow. - - _Marg._ Blackness! blackness! I grope! I grope! I grope! - Forgive me, Heaven, forgive me! There is no Heaven! - There is no God! The universe one cave, - Where I, a blinded bat do beat my wings - In wounded darkness. O my child, my child! - Some one must save thee! - - _Ar._ I am the only answer to thy prayer, - If there’s a God, he speaks to thee through me, - Margaret, Margaret, thou wilt come with me. - - _Marg._ What shall I do? Is there no other voice? - - _Ar._ Yea, thou wilt come. Thou wilt forget all this, - In future happiness. Come, my Margaret! - - (_Margaret rises to her feet as if to go with him, then stops._) - - _Ar._ Nay, nay, I am thine answer, God saith yea, to this. - - _Marg._ O God! O God! (_To_ ARIALD.) Thou hast thine answer now! - - _Ar._ Margaret! - - _Marg._ God sends thine answer now. My babe is dead! - - (_Falls heavily to the ground._) (ARIALD _steals out_.) - - _Ar._ Beaten, beaten, beaten at the last! - I almost believe me, even evil me, - There is a God! - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE IV.--_A battle-field. Enter troops marching. Fighting begins - in the distance. Enter two officers._ - - _1st O._ This is the final chance for Germany. - Be Henry now defeated on this field, - He loses empire, Rodulph holds the west. - - _2nd O._ Woe with poor Germany, her lands lie waste, - Her cities either sacked or arméd forts, - Withstand the common foe; her King outcast, - Battles for his rule with his own vassals. - - (_Enter_ HENRY _with a few knights_.) - - _Hen._ This way, this way, the enemy press back, - One struggle now for Germany and my crown. - - (_All pass out. Enter_ WOLF _of Hamburg, with the head - of_ RODULPH.) - - _Wolf._ Ha, ha, thou thing that wert a pope’s retainer, - Roll there the nonce an’ mix thee with the dust, - Thou that dared a king’s prerogatives. - - (_Re-enter_ HENRY.) - - _Wolf._ Victory! Sire; victory! - - _Hen._ How now? - - _Wolf._ I bring thee not thy crown, but rather the head - That would have worn it. Knowest the face? - - _Hen._ Rodulph! - - _Wolf._ Even so, his army be repulsed, - And Germany is thine to rule once more. - - (_Enter_ Soldiers.) - - _Hen._ Good Lords and Generals, Fellow-countrymen, - The enemy to all our peace is dead, - His army routed and the battle ours, - The God of battles now hath smiled our way, - We will henceforth resume our royal sway. - See that our pardon be proclaiméd wide - To all who lay down arms or join our ranks. - Meantime we bury this defeated rebel - And with him memory of this evil time, - Then hence to Rome to make our empery strong. - Know henceforth Lords and Generals, Henry stands - The champion of Europe’s civil rights, - The friend of liberty and trampled man. - Nor shall this sword be sheathed till Germany - And Italy, yea, all of Europe’s soil - Be freed from sway of proud, pretentious priests, - And peace, humanity and freedom reign. - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - ACT IV. - - - SCENE I.--(_A fortress near Milan, where_ GREGORY _is in exile. Enter_ - MARGARET, _crazed, with her dead babe in her arms_.) - - _Marg._ They would have stopped me, but my love’s good cunning - Did cheat them all. O, my sweet, waxen Babe, - The Holy Father, he will tell me true, - An’ make thee smile agen, thou art not dead, - They lie who say thou’rt dead. Here cometh one - - _Enter_ HILD. _much older looking, accompanied by_ PETER. - - Who hath a holy face, he’ll speak for me - Unto the Pope to make thee smile agen. - - _Hild._ Nay, Peter, they may rail and rail at me, - Strip all my wealth and make them fifty Popes, - They will not shake me. - - _Pet._ Gregory, Gregory, ponder well thine answer, - Remember, if thou art the real Pope, - Thou art not in Rome. - - _Hild._ Wherever I am, Rome is! They may drive - Me into farthest banishment, they but put - God’s holiness from out their precincts. I am Rome! - - _Marg._ Good Father. - - _Pet._ Woman, what wantest thou here? - - _Hild._ Drive her not out, Peter, see, her reason - Like me from my high Papacy, is exiled - From her poor body. I would speak with her. - Sorrow and defeat make men more kindly. - (_To_ MARGARET.) Daughter, wouldst thou speak a word - with me? - - _Marg._ Sir, I would see the Pope, but his attendants - Would drive me out, an’ my sweet baby here. - They say he’s dead an’ he will smile no more, - ’Tis but because that terrible Pope had laid - His curse on us my babe will never smile. - - _Hild._ Poor Girl, thy child is dead. - - _Marg._ Nay, nay, ’tis only this dread awful curse. - You are a kind old man, you’ll go with me, - And plead with me unto that terrible Pope, - And make him take this curse from off our lives, - An’ make my baby smile. - - _Hild._ What curse, my daughter? - - _Marg._ Take me but to him, I will tell it all, - But here my mind forsakes me, someone said - I was his daughter, but they must have lied. - God would not make a father so unkind - To curse his only daughter, kill her joy, - And make her baby like my baby here. - - _Hild._ O God, O God, it cannot, cannot be! - A mist seems growing up before mine eyes! - Peter, Peter, this is mine own daughter. - - _Pet._ Yea, she is distract. These women ever - Do come betwixt us and our sight of heaven. - - _Hild._ My Daughter, know thy father. I am the Pope. - - _Marg._ Nay, nay, but thou art kindly, hast no heart - To lay a winter like is laid on me? - - _Hild._ Nay, Daughter, I am he, that awful man, - I am Pope Gregory. - - _Marg._ Then if you be, take off this hideous curse, - Make my babe laugh and crow and stuff his hands - In rosy mouth, and speak his father’s name, - And he will come. They say thou hast God’s ear, - And He will do it. - - _Hild._ O Peter, Peter, this would break my heart - Were I but human. - - _Pet._ Send her away. Thou canst do her no good, - The child is dead, and she hath lost her reason. - Much must be suffered here that good may come. - Send her away. - - _Hild._ Nay, Peter, I have worked full o’er enough - For Holy Church, this much God asked of me, - He did not make me butcher to my child. - Hildebrand in sorrow finds a heart. - Out, out thou cruel man, for one short hour - Let me forget the Pope and be a father. [_Exit_ PETER. - - _Marg._ Holy Father, make my baby smile, - And God will thank thee by a mother’s heart. - - _Hild._ Daughter, God will make thy baby smile, - When thou and I and others like us smile, - And we have put aside this earthly dross - That weights our spirits down, in His Great Judgment. - - _Marg._ O, Father, thou art kind, and thou wilt do it, - Thou hast all power, all heaven-given strength, - To bless, to ban, to slay, to make alive: - O bring my baby back to me again. - - _Hild._ Daughter, I am but a weak, despised old man, - One poor enough in even this life’s powers - To make him jealous o’ yon sweet, sleeping babe - Whom the angel of death makes waxen in thine arms. - - _Marg._ O Father, tell me not that he is dead. - - _Hild._ Margaret, Margaret, this is not thy babe, - But some sweet marbled mould of what he was. - I know a bank where we will plant this blossom, - And water it anew with our poor tears. - Could I as easy bury my black griefs, - And all the storm cloud passions of this life, - God knows, I’d make me sexton to them all. - Come, let us out. [_Exit both._ - - _Enter_ PETER _and a_ Bishop. - - _Pet._ He hath gone out with some mad woman but now, - He gets more in his dotage day by day. - I cannot move him, thou canst try thy power. - - _Bish._ If he would only come to terms with Henry, - And patch this foolish quarrel, the Church is safe, - And if not then-- - - _Pet._ Then what? - - _Bish._ He must be brought to make his deposition. - - _Pet._ He’d die first ere he would do either, - Here he comes. - - _Enter_ HILDEBRAND _bearing the dead body of_ MARGARET. - - ’Tis the mad woman. - - _Hild._ Come help me to lay her here. She was my daughter. - - _Bish._ Is his Holiness mad, that he uttereth thus, - Such scandal ’gainst the Church’s dignity? - - _Hild._ Nay, rather found his reason for an hour, - Like other men through earth’s humanities. - Mine arrogance did dream I was above - Men’s humble sorrows. See my soul rebuked. - She bore it Peter till the first clod fell - Upon yon little blossom, then she shook, - And when it passed from sight her soul passed too. - I fear me much we blunder out God’s truths, - And mar His angels with our brutal laws, - And change His temple to a prison house. - She was a blossom, Peter, so like her mother, - I’ll bury her out there beside her babe, - And when the winds shake and the roses blow, - They’ll know each other as their angels know - Each other in Heaven. Would I were sleeping too! - Dost know mine age, Peter? I am over sixty. - - _Pet._ Your holiness forgets. The bishop would speak with you. - - _Hild._ Forgive me bishop, aye, ’tis thou Brunelli, - What is thy business? - - _Brunelli._ Your Holiness must pardon my intrusion - On this o’er sad occasion, important matters - Must be their own excuse. I will speak plainly;-- - One by one your party leaves you, soon - You will be desolate. Our only chance is now. - - _Hild._ Ha! now? And now! - - _Brunelli._ You must meet Henry. - - _Hild._ Never! - - _Brunelli._ Then Peter, tell him for I cannot. - - _Pet._ The matter, Gregory, is in short thou must - Plant empery upon bold Henry’s head - Or lose thy tiara. - - _Hild._ Never, as I am Pope, I will do neither! - Though I am wasted, agéd, worn and weak, - Deserted by false friends and hireling hounds, - I still am Gregory. Never hand but mine - Can dare uncrown me. Let him dread my curse - Who’d force me to it. Yea, that hand will shrivel - Ere it uncrowns me. People the world with Popes, - There’s but one Peter. Look on this my sorrow - Embittering with its pangs mine olden age, - And know what I have done for Holy Church. - By that sweet face that lieth there in death, - A martyr, if ever was one, to God’s great cause, - I bid you go and tell proud Henry, yea, - And all those false, foul prelates of the church, - That Hildebrand who crushed out his own heart, - To keep the right will die as he hath lived. - - [_Curtain._ - - - SCENE II.--(_A chapel close near the castle. The grave of Margaret - and her child marked by a cross._) _Enter_ HILDEBRAND _leaning on the - arm of_ PETER. - - _Hild._ Little did I dream that it was I - Would be the first to go. O, Peter, Peter, - This world--ambition hath eaten up my heart, - And my life with it. Better to be there - Where she doth lie than to be God’s Vicar. - - _Pet._ Gregory if you would only compromise, - And meet the wishes of the Cardinals, - And temper Henry, you might die in Rome. - - _Hild._ Never, never, better end me here, - Than give my life the lie. Do they their worst, - What I have lived for, I will die for too. - Better the Church go crumble all to ruins - And Europe be a field of ravening wolves, - Than compromise be purchased at such price, - And sell the Church’s right to impious hounds, - And make the temple of God a den of thieves. - Go, Peter, go, your heart is like the rest. - Go, leave me, I am but a poor old man, - Weak, palsied, leaning slowly to my tomb, - I need no friend, God will be merciful, - Though cold and rude earth’s loves, I can but die. - - _Pet._ Thou knowest, Gregory, I will never leave thee. - - _Hild._ ’Twill not be long, and then they’ll have their will, - O, Europe! Europe! Peter, wilt thou see - That this place is kept sacred. Yon rose tree - Kept watered, and yon twin-mound holy, - Till thou dost die? - - _Pet._ I will. - - _Hild._ She was my daughter, Peter, and like her mother, - And the poor babe it looked so sweet in death, - Mine age went to it. O, Damiani, - These women and children twine about our hearts. - - _Pet._ Wilt you go within? - - _Hild._ Methought I heard one hum an old-time tune. - - _Pet._ Nay, Gregory, thou meanest a chant or hymn. - - _Hild._ Nay, Peter, but a simple ballad tune, - That I loved long ago. Know thee, Peter, - All music is of God, and it be holy. - - _Pet._ What be that noise? (_Rising._) Who be those coming here? - - _Hild._ Peter, thou wilt keep this place? - - _Pet._ Hildebrand! Hildebrand! Gregory! dost thou hear? - Many cardinals and bishops come this way. - -_Enter_ Cardinals, Bishops _and_ Lords. - - _Card. Brunelli._ Your Holiness! - - _Hild._ (_Rising suddenly and waving his hand imperiously._) - Back! back! This ground be holy! - - _Brunelli._ We be come, my Lord,-- - - _Hild._ Back! back! or fear my curse. Sully not - These silent, dreamless ears with impious words - Of earth’s ambitions, Church’s greed and curse. - Desecrate not this peace with life’s mad riot. - ’Tis dedicate to memories alone - Of youth and innocence. - - [_They fall back, he goes forward._ - - _Hild._ What be your will? - - _Brunelli._ May it please your Holiness, we come from Rome. - - _Hild._ I am Rome! And when these old walls crumble, - Rome hath fallen, till another be built. - ’Twill not be long. - - _Pet._ Know lord Cardinals that the Holy Father - Is indisposed. Complete your business. - - _Hild._ Nay, not ill, but rather worn of life - And its vexatious evils, foolish toils. - Aye, lord Cardinals, weigh you my curse so heavy? - That ye have came so far to crave my blessing? - - _Brunelli._ We come, my Lord, to heal this cruel schism - That rendeth Holy Church and maketh mock - Of Peter’s chair, throughout all Christendom. - Henry of Germany-- - - _Hild._ Silence! or I’ll forget the Church’s good, - And curse her Cardinal. Name me not that monster, - Save in anathema. Look on me Brunelli, - And these poor hands wherein life’s blood runs cold, - So that they scarce can lift in Church’s blessing; - Look on my face and see Death written there, - In plainest charactry. Yet know proud Cardinals, - I still am Peter till my latest breath. - - (_He staggers._ PETER _catches him in his arms_.) - - _Pet._ Great God, he dies. Help! help! lord Cardinals, help! - The greatest soul in Europe passeth now. - - _Hild._ (_Staggers to his feet._) I am going Damiani, heard you - sounds - Of rustling pinions? Did you know a presence - That darkened all the horizon with its wings? - Nay, I can stand alone. Unhand me, Peter! - Lord Cardinals and Prelates to your knees! - Take you my blessing, ’tis my latest hour! [_All kneel._ - All ye who have been true to Holy Church. - Take my last blessing. All who have been false, - Take ye my--Catherine! Catherine! O my God! (_Dies._) - - [_Curtain._ - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - - “But in my +lonlier+ moments” changed to “But in my +lonelier+ - moments” on page 3. - - Removed hyphen from “+To-Happy+-go-luck-to-morrow” to give “+To - Happy+-go-luck-to-morrow” on page 16 to agree with earlier usage. - - “but +withold+ thy pity” changed to “but +withhold+ thy pity” on page - 33. - - “thou +forgetest+ the tourney” changed to “thou +forgettest+ the - tourney” on page 42. - - “clown, +’Tis+ the mode” changed to “clown, +’tis+ the mode” on page - 43. - - “I tell thee I +wont+” changed to “I tell thee I +won’t+” on page 61. - - “+siezes+ her wrist” changed to “+Seizes+ her wrist” on page 71. - - “+Tis+ treason, damnable treason” changed to “+’Tis+ treason, - damnable treason” on page 73. - - “but +tis+ plain” changed to “but +’tis+ plain” on page 73. - - “+Tis+ just King” changed to “+’Tis+ just King” on page 73. - - “I slew thee +not,+” changed to “I slew thee +not.+” on page 76. - - “Oh! +tis+ thou!” changed to “Oh! +’tis+ thou!” on page 76. - - “+tis+ thou sweet Unid” changed to “+’tis+ thou sweet Unid” on page - 76. - - “drunken rabble ye +poluted+” changed to “drunken rabble ye - +polluted+” on page 81. - - “+we+ be much affrighted” changed to “+We+ be much affrighted” on - page 82. - - “+Tis+ true, King” changed to “+’Tis+ true, King” on page 83. - - “pay his +brother’s+ spirits” changed to “pay his +brothers’+ - spirits” on page 87. - - “my +brother’s+ spirits call” changed to “my +brothers’+ spirits - call” on page 89. - - “I leave thee +fillial+ keeper” changed to “I leave thee +filial+ - keeper” on page 89. - - “in the outward +mein+” changed to “in the outward +mien+” on page 90. - - “Gwaine’s +vengence+ waits him” changed to “Gwaine’s +vengeance+ - waits him” on page 99. - - “That +prophecies+ our end” changed to “That +prophesies+ our end” on - page 104. - - “This +week+ unseemliness” changed to “This +weak+ unseemliness” on - page 116. - - “Enter +Margarat+ eagerly” changed to “Enter +Margaret+ eagerly” on - page 120. - - “unto a +monastry+” changed to “unto a +monastery+” on page 124. - - “Powers to +lose+ and bind” changed to “Powers to +loose+ and bind” - on page 129. - - “Of +benifice+, and giveth” changed to “Of +benefice+, and giveth” on - page 129. - - “ye back to your +monastry+” changed to “ye back to your +monastery+” - on page 135. - - “track thee to thy +monastry+” changed to “track thee to thy - +monastery+” on page 136. - - “dare +polute+ thy state” changed to “dare +pollute+ thy state” on - page 136. - - “I’ll harry those +villians+ out” changed to “I’ll harry those - +villains+ out” on page 139. - - “Who strikes at that +Strikes+ me” changed to “Who strikes at that - +strikes+ me” on page 146. - - Acute and grave accents used inconsistently, such as “this +damnéd+ - court” and “this +damnèd+ business”, have not been changed. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Mordred and Hildebrand, by William Wilfred Campbell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORDRED AND HILDEBRAND *** - -***** This file should be named 62173-0.txt or 62173-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/7/62173/ - -Produced by Ian Crann and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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