University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Tavern. Darkledge, Slinely, at a table. around them 1st Rabble, 2d Rabble, &c.
Dark.
I thought the fellow would have tweaked the nose
Of the court, with his familiar fingers.

1st Rab.
There's been, I'm sure, no bullying done, Judge,
In your court, equal to this, since Buckram,
In his soiled coat, called you ‘liar’ where you sat.

Dark.
Buckram!—ah, yes, and where is Buckram now?

1st Rab.
In his grave, I think, of a jail fever
Caught in a wet cell, whither contempt of court
Brought him to lie by the heels.

Sline.
A brazen front beyond example, sir—
In the court where you preside!—I know
This Calmstorm where he thinks I know him not.
On a late summer evening, a trusty friend of mine,
Who walks the world at times, spying out what he can,
Passed a raised window, and from within came forth
A voice railing upon the general press,
The Organ by name. Could he have known it,
The death-rattle fanged his throat, e'en as he spake;
And what to-day annexed, has built his bier.

Dark.
[To the Rabble.]
There hangs, my friends,
On yonder wall at the back of the room,
A painting on which the court would take your mind—
E'en here, you see its excellent; a buffalo
Of burly build, worried by wolves—look at it
Closely, point by point, and, half an hour from this,
Give us the advantage of your shrewd opinion.
[1st, 2d Rabble, &c., scramble away to the picture.
[To Slinely.]
Draw this way. This Calmstorm goes about, I'm told,
To undermine established courts of law—
Whether he aims at me or others, I know not.
General or special, he seeks to overset
The ordered tribunals, now standing:
To let them lie in the dust or build anew,
Who knows? I'm out for one, and this life-tenure
May be bought for an hour's purchase.

Sline.
He in his secret soul works 'neath your feet,
And cuts the props of your particular bench,
And this I know.

Dark.
How, how—tell me—how know you that?

Sline.
No matter; I know it.

Dark.
And how to reach him?
He owes nothing, has out no bond nor lease,
Nor obligation of man to man,
Of any name; self-poised lives much apart,
Whence can he not be drawn into a net of law;
No violence could touch him, worst of all,
His name's as white as the babe's sprinkled face.

Sline.
You see this sheet?

[Showing a paper.
Dark.
As white as newest snow.

Sline.
And now?

[Casts ink upon it.
Dark.
Black-spotted as the devil himself.

Sline.
E'en so plague-marked shall be the name of Calmstorm,
When a few days are past. To-night he sleeps in peace,
To-morrow a hundred tongues shall, through the city,
Whisper dreadful things: imagine them!
Men on the corners stopping, talk in wonder,
That yet the city holds him, and by degrees,
Slander shall climb or fly each round
Of the ladder, to the highest, and there flap its wings
In darkness, over his forever-perished name.

Dark.
Love him as we may, we'll neither stab him
Nor have him to be stabbed at night with knives,
Nor shot with pistols.

Sline.
The work is done, you see,
Without the waste of steel or powder. Stop, stop,
I hear a murmuring in the street, and some one names his name.

Dark.
We'll part as we go forth; yes—and after,
Should we think fit, this day's contempt of court
Shall rise to throttle him; brought to lie
A few days in prison, will break his spirit,
'Tis to be hoped, beyond all healing.

1st Rab.
[Cries out from the distance.]
Capital!
You see how the great black wolf steals round him,
And springs at his throat under the shadow
That the sun makes!

[Exeunt.