 | William Rufus |  |
Scene II.
—Twynham. The Priory Court. Enter Godric, Canons, and Wilfrith.Godric.
Alas, Prince Richard lies beneath the trees,
His May o'erlaid with death's untimely snow.
Much will Duke Robert mourn his lusty son,—
The second Richard whom the hunt hath slain.
So learn we how sin works the vengeance
That's properly its curse. A father spread
A net of tangled boughs to hold the deer
He loved as they were children of his bone;
Therein his royal issue is entoiled,
Slain with the arbalest. Woe dogs the pride
That took the people's earth in lust of sport,
And banished God from the deep forest-glades.
1st Canon.
An awful deed to burn each holy church!
2nd Canon.
But shall this child receive no sepulchre
Because his fathers sinned?
Godric
[to Canons].
Go, get a bier,
And Wilfrith shall be guide to where he lies.
He took not up with conscious blasphemy
His race's wickedness. To Winchester
He shall be gently borne. [Exeunt Canons.]
Wilfrith, your heart
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Wilfrith.
I found you fishing in the shallow streams
That spread a purity about these meads,
And glass the sky which you have vowed to serve.
Your lips were moving happily: methought
You lay in shelter of a lovely peace
I sigh to enter. Here the weight of life
Is taken from the shoulders of the world.—
Oh, might I join your dedicated band,
And share their simple days 'mid lowly scenes
Beyond the forest's hateful witchery.
Godric.
My son, your heart hath heard the heavenly call;
Be patient. You are bidden and will come
Soon as the time is ripe.
Wilfrith.
I'd live and die
At this sweet place, in your sweet company.
Godric.
In God's good time! [Re-enter Canons.]
There come the brothers back.
1st Canon.
All is prepared.
Godric
[to Canons].
Go, four of you, to lift
With song and supplication the fair prince
To mistimed funeral. My blessing!
Wilfrith.
Give
To me peculiar benison. I go
To living death in yon accursed bounds.
Godric.
Hope and religion purify your heart,
And keep it ready! Benedicite.
[Exeunt.
I'll work that he may join our humble Church.
But who comes here?
[Enter more Canons.]
3rd Canon.
O father! woe is me!
That man of wrath, that spoiler of the Church,
That dark blasphemer with the fiery name,
Flambard, is at our gates.
Godric.
Now Heaven help!
He means the house no good.
[Enter other Canons.]
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Alas, sweet Dean!
He enters with a proud and dancing eye,
That inventories all it looks upon,
And smirches all it sees.
5th Canon.
Each door and chink
Draws his observance, and he marks each man
As he would buy him into slavery.
His mouth commands as doth a trumpet-blare,
By clamour brazen-voiced; his ruddy face
Burns like a beacon prophesying strife;
His stubborn form is irresistible;
The weak air flies before it. ...
4th Canon.
A low churl,
A hag-begotten priest.
5th Canon.
We'll never bow
And cringe beneath his trampling insolence.
4th Canon.
Never!
Godric.
God give me strength and soldiership!
4th Canon.
Listen! His voice along the corridor
Crashes the covered silence.
Flambard
[within].
Where's this dean,
This Godric?
[Enters with other Canons.]
Godric.
Here.
Flambard.
I come to claim my own.
Godric.
Then no man who is just may hinder you.
Flambard.
Sense in a churchman! Wonderful! The king
Hath granted me the church and convent.
5th Canon.
Lord!
Flambard.
Ay, so I am thy lord, thou tonsured fool.
The church is mine; the priory too is mine,
And mine, ye shivering souls, the revenue.
'Tis all at my disposal, and I will
To build me a new church of richer stones,
And ampler stretch from sacred East to West,
With higher roof and more exalted tow'r.
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I'll tell you of the building of this church.—
In ancient days upon St. Cath'rine's hill
The workmen laid foundations; every night
Beneath the moon a thunder moved the air;
The stones were scattered, and then lost to sight:
But soon as morning trod with silver feet
Upon the shining pavement of the streams
Meadowy Stour and Avon, on a strip
Of land, a cape of river-lavèd earth,
The builders found their blocks. So every night
The new foundation on the lofty hill
Was carried by still influence away
To the low bed of waters. The command,
Thus clearly issued, was at last obeyed;
The builders plied their craft; but every day
A Stranger came and bore the heavy hours.
He never broke the necessary crust,
Nor stayed for payment when the sun went down,
And on the day of consecration none
Could see Him near nor far.—They named the church
Christ Church. ... You'd give His finished work to men,
Throw down the walls He spent Himself to build,
Whose corner stones He laid?
Flambard.
Our modern tastes
Judge such a hole unworthy as the home
Of the angelic King.
Godric.
Ye judge for Him
Who gave His judgment—fools!
Flambard.
Chain up thy tongue,
Old man; its surly bark
Must back to kennel.
Godric.
The unhallowed witch
Who bore thee to the devil, trained thy tongue
Thus to detraction and malignity.
Flambard.
Beware, vile Saxon! If I catch that laugh
Sneaking about the corners of your face,
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Of eye and mouth. Sir Dean, you shall not eat
My bread till you are humbler.
Godric.
Never fear!
Your meat I will not taste.
1st Canon.
Alas, he raves;
We cannot face the desert.
2nd Canon.
We must yield
With sad submission.
Flambard.
Will ye?
All.
Yes, alas!
Flambard.
Then certain moneys shall ye put apart
To keep you, and all fasts shall be observed.
The rest of your good treasure I shall hold
For sake of the new church that I shall build
To cover you with beauty. Well, Sir Dean,
Will you not rule the dinner I provide
For modest stomachs?
Godric.
No, I'll never touch
Hell-offered bounty: rather will I go
To yon wide shades, where corn and apple-tree
Are exiles, and the beasts have treasured limbs
'Tis death to roast.
Flambard.
The king would blast your sight
For such a speech! You, canons, I forbid
To seek to turn him from his foolishness.
My wrath will burst its sides if longer kept
In fume. We'll drink. Draw forth your choicest wines
And parchments of the priory, the key
Of every store and coffer. While I feed
I'll cast the sums up. Then I'll say adieu,
And pass the gates, and shut them, dean, on you.
[Exeunt.
| William Rufus | |