SCENE V.
Stephen enters.
So, Stephen! we Hungarians are sent off.
Stephen.
Your Reverence is made bishop, we hear say:
As for us all . .
Rupert.
Lupins . . when times are good.
Ah! thou hast bowels; thou canst pity others.
Stephen.
I can myself.
Rupert.
I all my countrymen.
I have been lately in that happy realm
Our native land.
[Whispers.
Her kings should govern here.
Stephen.
And everywhere. What loyal subject doubts
His prince's right o'er all other princes?
Rupert.
Here are sad discontents. The prince Butello,
Nephew of His Beatitude the Pope,
Can not yet touch this principality.
Durazzo, our sharp king, snatches it back,
Altho' the kingdom was bestowed on him
Under this compact.
Stephen.
He will bring down bull
And thunder on his crown. The pope's own nephew!
Rupert.
No less a man.
Stephen.
If there's pope's blood in
He won't stand robbery.
Rupert.
We owe obedience
To kings . . unless a higher authority
Dissolves it.
Stephen.
Doubtless: but what kings? our own
Say I.
Rupert.
O Stephen! say it, say it softly.
Few ears can open and can close like mine.
Stephen
(aside).
Ah! how good men all over are maligned!
Rupert.
I would not trust another soul on earth . .
But others must be trusted. Lucky they
Who first bring over to right ways the brave,
First climb the pole and strip the garland off
With all its gold about it. Then what shouts!
What hugs! what offers! dowers, in chests, in farms . .
Ah! these are wordly things too fondly prized!
But there are what lie deeper; the true praise
Of loyalty, of sanctity.
Stephen
(pondering).
'Tis pleasant
To look into warm chest with well-wrought hinges,
That turn half-yearly. Pleasant too are farms
When harvest-moons hang over them, and wanes
Jolt in the iron-tinged rut, and the white ox
Is call'd by name, and patted ere pull'd on.
Rupert.
These are all thine. I have lived many days
And never known that man unprosperous
Who served our holy church in high emprize.
Stephen.
If so, I wish I could.
Rupert.
Wish we had kings
Who keep their words like ours of Hungary.
Stephen.
Just.
Rupert.
I have half a mind to let Elizabeth
Know what a zealous subject, what a brave,
Her daughter has at Naples.
Stephen.
Would she give me
(For thanks in these hard times are windy) money?
Think you?
Rupert.
Don't squander all away. Few know
Its power, its privilege. It dubs the noble,
It raises from the dust the man as light,
It turns frowns into smiles, it makes the breath
Of sore decrepitude breathe fresh as morn
Into maternal ear and virgin breast.
Stephen.
Is that all it can do? I see much farther.
I see full twenty hens upon the perch,
I see fat cheese moist as a charnel-house,
I see hogs' snouts under the door, I see
Flitches of bacon in the rack above.
Rupert.
Rational sights! fair hopes! unguilty wishes!
I am resolved: I can refrain no longer:
Thou art the man for prince to rest upon,
The plain, sound, sensible, straightforward man,
No courtier . . or not much of one . . but fit
To show courts what they should be. Hide this letter.
Mind! if thou losest it, or let'st an eye
Glance on it, I may want the power again
To serve thee: thou art ruin'd. The new king
Might chide and chafe should Rupert ask another
To forward any sent he would prefer
For friend or kindred. Since thou must return
To Hungary, thou shalt not go ill-fed.
'Tis to the queen's confessor; look at it;
Now put it up; now, godson of our Saint!
Take this poor purse, and, honest soul! this blessing.
Guides thou shalt have all the first day, and rules
How to go forward on the road: so speed thee!
