University of Virginia Library

Scene VII.

—An Entrance Hall opening into a Gallery which leads to the Synodal Chamber.—It is filled with Monks, Guards, and Attendants. Two of the Gerefa's or High Sheriff's Deputies are in front. Ecclesiastics of rank, including two or three Abbesses, pass through more and more frequently as the scene proceeds, not unmixed with Civil and Military Functionaries. Each Ecclesiastic is attended by an Acolyte as a train-bearer.
1st Deputy.

Here they come. What! a secular! Well, he must pass, though he shall not be welcome.

2nd Deputy.

There are more than he.

1st Deputy.

They are stricken deer; I would not come amongst the herd if I were they.

2nd Deputy.

I never saw Dunstan's chair before. 'Tis a choice piece of workmanship.

1st Deputy.

He made it himself, and they say if another were to sit in it, it would toss him in the air. He can make anything, and make it do his bidding.

2nd Deputy.

But should his chair be set above the Archbishop's?

1st Deputy.

It was so ordered, and indeed he that is above the King is more than one step above the Archbishop. King, said I! Who knows whether there be a King, or in which brother's reign we that are living live?

2nd Deputy.

Hush! Speak not so.

1st Deputy.

Nay, 'tis the way of the beehive, and courts are no better. Make way, Sirs, if it please you. No offence. Sirs, 'tis my office. Farther back, I pray.

2nd Deputy.
Here's Godredud.

1st Deputy.
I say ye shall make room;
What though he be a secular? he's noble
And of a generous life.

A Monk.
Six meals a day,
With morat and spiced ale, is generous living.
Also the gout he hath is generous.

Another Monk.
Bed, board, nor bath, he never yet forewent
The joys of for a day. Look at his tonsure;
A well-grown acorn's cup would cover it.

Enter amongst others, Wulfstan the Wise, habited as an Ecclesiastic, and Sidroc in the dress of a Notary.
Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
Let us stand here, and reckon as they pass
The numbers on each side.

Enter Emma in a surplice, with a band of Choristers.
Emma
(aside to the 1st Deputy).
Aha! my friend,
Know'st thou the merry wench?

1st Deputy.
Nay, softly; hush!
But pass no further yet; here you shall stand,
And I will tell you, as they come, who's who.
The first of men! the Angels of the Church!
I know them all, and most of them . . . Room, ho!
The Abbot of St. Winifred's—Room, room!
And most of them I call my friends.

Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
The newt
Lived much amongst the tadpoles, and averred
He was acquainted with all kinds of fish.

1st Deputy.
Here is the Abbot Morcar with one hand.
A woman kissed the other, for which cause
He chopped it off. He emulates St. Arnulph,
And wears a shirt of hedgehog skins. No need
To clear the way for him.

Emma.
Sirs, push me not.
No, they fall back unbidden.

1st Deputy.
And here is Monn,
The Abbot of St. Clive's, that heals the sick
And makes the dumb to speak. From far and near
Thousands and thousands make resort to him,
And them that may not for infirmity
He goes to; or if so be he cannot go,
He sends his walking-stick, which does as well.

Emma.
See how they press around him.

1st Deputy.
Room, I say,
Place for the Abbot of St. Clive's!—Lo, there
Cumba, the Priest of Sherborne; more than twice
Has he changed sides; but he's so mild and sweet
That there are ever some to hold him up.
Betwixt the monks and secular Church half-way
Stands Cumba, smiling upon both.

Sidroc
(aside).
A chicken
Is good for breakfast, and an egg is good;
But something half-way 'twixt an egg and chicken
Is very vilely bad.

1st Deputy.
And truth to say,
His faith is mounted on his charity
And sits it easy.

Sidroc
(aside).
Cumba is my gauge,
And by the crown of his head I know the times.
Grow they ascetic, then his tonsure widens;
Or free, it narrows in.

Emma.
What man is this,
[Pointing to Wulfstan.
With large round silvery head and fair round face
And those lost eyes so lustrous that see nothing?
Tell me what man is he.

1st Deputy.
Some country priest;
A man one sees and makes no mention of;
He had his pass or I had questioned him,
For with my will a priest so meanly clad
And slovenly, should take his rags elsewhere.

Sidroc
(aside).
Dogs take distinctions, learning from mankind
A worldly lesson, and the beggar's stayed
When lace and gawds go free.—What say you, Sir?

1st Deputy.
To you, Sir? nothing.

[A cry without of “Place for the Archbishop.” A flourish of trumpets, and enter divers Officers of the Archbishop's household in procession. Then the Archbishop, attired in splendid vestments and preceded by Sigeric and Bridferth bearing his mass-book and crucifix. He is supported on the right by the Bishop of Lincoln, on the left by the Bishop of Lichfield, and followed by a long train of Officers and Attendants.
Odo
(returning the obeisances with which he is received as he passes through).
The blessing of God's peace,
my sons, be on you;
And I beseech you, pray that by God's grace
Our counsels may be prospered to His glory.

[Passes with his train into the Gallery.
1st Monk.
The Primate is too ancient for the times;
He is too sudden when he's choleric,
Too slow when he's at ease.

2nd Monk.
He's shaken both ways.

A Thane.
The Primate looks an inch or two less tall
Than he was wont, methinks; nor is his step
So firm as once it was.

An Acolyte.
Time, Sir, and care.

Sidroc
(aside).
Or peradventure sin and fear.—Good father,
Saw you my Lord the Archbishop pass?

Wulfstan.
My son?

Sidroc.
Saw you my Lord the Primate?

Wulfstan.
Yes, my son.
Was it not he that passed in gold and purple?

Sidroc.
The same. We wait but for the Abbot now.

Wulfstan.
The Abbot?

Sidroc.
Dunstan. He is first and last.
Methinks the muster of the seculars
Is stronger than was looked for. What is this?
Hark! Hist! A hum as of a multitude
Without the gates. Permit me, Sirs. He comes.

Enter Dunstan solus, clad in sackcloth, with ashes on his head and a missal in his hand. The foremost of the crowd fall upon their knees and bow their heads as he approaches.
Dunstan.
Fear ye and tremble, ye that love the Church,
For wolves are round about her. Watch and pray.

[Passes into the Gallery.
Sidroc.
Pass on, pass on; the benches will be thronged.
Stick close to me, good father. God ha' mercy!
Sir, I beseech you to remit your elbow.

1st Deputy.
Keep order, constables! what a fray is here!

Sidroc.
Could we but pass this friar, all were won.
St. Hilda! what a mountain of a friar!
Sir, pray you die and do the Church some service;
You'd choke the way to Hell.—Now is the time;
Come, father, come; stick close to me; here, here.
Knock down that chorister. I thank you, Sir.