University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—Gloucester. A Room. Enter Bishops Gundulf, Walkelin, and others; Robert Fitz-hamon, Robert of Meulan, and other Nobles.
Gundulf
[showing a petition].
From holy Anselm comes this blessèd leaf
Of healing and assuagement to the land
Fevered with ulcerous sore. Pray Heav'n this balm
Soften the rancour of the royal heart.

Fitz-hamon.
I fear me it will irritate: the king
Hath heard on th' instant that by traitors' hands
His Ralf is put to sea. The storm on 's face
I fled from: there was lightning in its clouds,
And they were ranked for vengeance.

Walkelin.
He hath heard
Of this petition, and will doubtless sign.
He blesses even now in secrecy
The tranquil abbot hither journeying.
Believe me. ...

[Enter the King.]
Rufus.
Where is Ralf? The rumour goes
He is arrested and borne over sea.
Now listen, gentlemen, by Lucca's face,
I'll throw that torch still hissing from the wave,
A brand shall set your bishoprics in flames.
My churls!—it shall be worse for them; I'll throw
A rope across the land,—whether it yield
Or not, it shall be taxed. I'll make myself
The heir of every benefice,—the monks
Shall starve—the—

Fitz-hamon.
We, my lord, are ignorant
Of any misadventure.

Gundulf.
But, if Heav'n
Deign to chastise a base misgovernor,
Beseech your Majesty in holy fear
Receive the dreadful warning and repent.

Walkelin.
My liege, there is another raging sea
Waits to engulf us all—the people's hate.
This See of Canterbury ...

Rufus.
Ha, ha, ha!
You jest, Sir Bishop. I will walk this sea
In royal progress.

Gundulf.
Stay that reckless tongue,
Ere for its sin a sudden leprosy
Snow-like envelop your affrightèd soul.

Fitz-hamon.
Here comes a messenger!

[Enter a Messenger.]
Rufus.
With dripping clothes.
A mariner. How now!
From the whale's belly hast extracted him,
The mighty woe-pronouncer on you all,
My pious lords?

Messenger.
Sir Ranulf greets his liege,
Bids me report—from great calamity
Being delivered, to the castle gates
He journeys swiftly.

Rufus.
Give him welcome, lords!
Escort him to the presence. Bishops, go!
[Exeunt some of the Bishops and Lords.
Ha, ha! They shall receive their ravisher
As the chief nurse and pastor of the flock.
He's chuckling with them now.

Gundulf
[aside].
Heav'n save the king
From a deservèd chastisement.

Fitz-hamon.
He hath
Some ground for his displeasure.

Rufus
[ascending his throne].
To my throne!
Place for the chancellor beside. Make way.
[Enter Flambard and Bishops.]
What! back again,
My peerless chancellor, my jovial Ralf!
My sometime kitchen-clerk, my jolly priest,
Most scrupulous financier, and lord
Over God's heritage—the virtuous way
Of estimating to an ounce the fleece,
The silky-hided revenues that 'long
To my fierce crosier-bearing royalties.
Art wet, storm-frosted, naked and despoiled?
The murderers! Had they extinguish'd you,
My fire-brand to the foxes, my gay flame,
My t—t—t—or—ch, my—

Flambard.
Stop that stuttering, my liege.
'Twas I outwitted them. To see the fools,
When they had made me captive, fail to fix
How to despatch me;—should they drown or slay?
I recommended that the prisoner
Should, by compression of the thumb to throat,
A bloodless corpse, resign his rich attire
Unsullied to his captures. They laughed,
Fell to the survey, and grew quarrelsome,
While friendly winds rose higher. In the gale
My seamanship [is there, my liege, a craft
Of which I am not master?] awed the men,
Coupled with just a sly, malicious, half-
Retaliating, pious hint of how
They were delivered to my hand, and must
Cry mercy! would I pray them into port.
At landing, I had pow'r to pack them all
In prison for the hangman's courtesies;
But plucked them by the beard and bade them drink
Health to my body and their damning souls.
So blessed them and departed. What's the news?

Rufus.
Why, Ralf, a pray'r, a loyal loving pray'r—
Ha, ha!—that I should strictly give command
The people shall entreat the Lord to change
My heart. ... Sweet Ralf, here is my signature
With laughter's palsy somewhat tremulous.
[Signs the paper.
Conceive it! ho! a thousand muffled mouths
To change this heart and force me cast you off.
I warrant they would sweat at it. Ho, ho!

Flambard.
Good jest, i' faith!

Rufus.
And since ye now have warrant for your knees,
Committing you to fasting's penury,
And much hard labour of the lips, I pray
Begone!
[Waving his hand.
While I await the issues of this war,
This sally, this celestial enterprise.
Like a good tow'r I stand, resistant, firm;
Seek ye to undermine me with your pray'rs,
Who bootless batter my thick-wallèd will.
Ay, but I swear, by my own mother's soul,
Tho' you should summon the great Overlord,
To quadruple your forces in this siege,
You will not ...

Flambard.
Leave them threatless to their pray'rs.
Beseech you give me an hour's audience;
Embrace me as your new-restorèd heir.
Let us make merry.

Rufus
[to Attendants].
Pack the churchmen off!
And you, my lords, the council is at end.
[Exeunt Bishops.
Some two hours later and we meet at hunt.
My Ralf, your king himself shall slay the deer
That with full, feastful Norman courtesy
Confirms your welcome at our board to-night;
The rich and savoury meat of your return.
Meanwhile I feed on gluttonous. [To Lords.]
Retire!
[Exeunt Lords.
What knitting still your handsome brows? Uncrease!
Let us to laughter.

Flambard.
They betake themselves
To pray'rs, the beldam's refuge. Nought to fear;
We may retain the See of Canterb'ry.
I have no further scruple—that is—dread.
We may to work.

Rufus.
My pretty Publican,
Too rigorous in sooth you rate the dues
And issues of this action to enjoy
Its perfect rustic innocence. Conceive
This heart, this prodigal, rapacious heart,
This wine-warmed bosom, this gold-hardened breast,
This bubbling fount of life that feeds and fills
Must be dried up to dribble of the monk!
Let's cut our ruddy curls and grow austere
As pious Lanfranc, for whose soul I pray,
Being so affluent in his revenues.
My rosy Ralf, let us resemble him,
And love these hinds and give them liberties,
And pray that we may think upon the Church,
And lay our jewels 'mid be-sainted bones.
Oh, let us pray that this may come to pass,
And show our humbled faith in miracle.
They have permission; let them pray their best,
While I perform my worst.—What didst thou say
Of this vile Purkis and his more offence
Against our forest-laws and honest Malf,
The guardian of our deer?

Flambard.
He slaughters them.
You know there is a custom that the lord
Of Minstead claims with every summer's sun
A stately buck or doe at Llammas-tide,
Provided only that, if either fall
Within the forest-bound, he leave a haunch
To show the antler'd beast's true overlord.
This Purkis, chafing one of Saxon blood
Should servile eat our royal venison,
Heap'd Minstead-tracks with gory haunch and head,
And, breaking all restraint, defiantly
Dared Malf to meddle with his sport.

Rufus.
A dog
To be unclaw'd! Hot-irons! Torture, man!
Don't trust to the ordeal. God's no judge
Of forest-laws; He never followed deer.
A cord about his throat! Within my bounds,
My b—b—b—ou—nd—s!

Flambard.
My lord, you grow too sudden red.
Chafe not so angrily.—He's in a fit.
[Beckons and whispers to a Servant
Name but a forest-treason to this House
It foams i' the mouth half-lunatic. How now?
A rope shall perch the medd'ling clown tree-high
From further mischief.

Rufus.
It—it drives me mad.
I will have every inch of earth;—the half
My realm in hands of priests, and my fair woods,
My noble deer! ... I will be absolute
While there is any breath
Left in my body: no competitor
Shall rival me. King William shall be sole
Archbishop—Anselm they are praying for—
Cur—cur—se him!—of Canterbury.

Flambard.
Tut, my liege,
We'll bleed you of these humours. You're perverse.
[Enter John de Villula.]
Good my lord bishop, help me raise the king;
He's stiff and speechless.

De Villula.
Short, too, i' the neck!
These sudden cholers ... with profanity. ...
Heav'n looks not kindly on the arrogant.
A little water. Ay, ay! he revives;
The Lord looks on his people. ... This is sent
Doubtless in mercy to admonish him.

[Exeunt, bearing Rufus.