University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Chamber in the Castle.
Father Stephen and Barnabas.
BARNABAS.
Leave wringing of the hands and counting rafters!
What wouldst thou with me, father? Here I am.
Didst send to find a comforter? Go to:
Let us sit down, that we may sum the cost
Of making capons for this world of cocks,
This huge and smoking dunghill, whereupon
The strongest beak and sharpest spur speed best.
Thy chicken's-legs were tethered shrovetide-wise:
So Geoffrey Builth has plucked his feathers off.
Woe worth the while, good father! Thou didst light
The fire which boiled his little heart to broth!
Thy doctrine sweated valour fairly out,
Exhaling soul and manhood drop by drop.
Take comfort of me, father!

STEPHEN.
May He grant it
Who hears and pities misery! That poor child
Had patience while the rabble chased him forth—
Whooped, hissed, and cursed him through the howling streets—
And I have none! They hunted him about!
They grudged a refuge at his father's grave,
And thrust him from the church!

BARNABAS.
Friar Baldwin did.

STEPHEN.
Haply he thought of malice fiercer still,
And so found patience. God forgive me, faithless!
I shall go mad! The same had thronged his heels
Bareheaded while their caps were cast toward heaven,
With shouts and songs, returning from the field;
Yea, though their neighbour's bones were left behind him;
Themselves nor eased nor profited! His hands
Were bloodless and employed in doing good—
Therefore they hissed and cursed him! Hear me, son.
I cannot follow him—I am shut in;
The Seneschal has closed the gates upon me.
Seek fitter garments for his state and need:
Hide him from farther malice: keep thou near him.
Nay, tarry not! bethink thee where he is!
As thou shalt hope for mercy—show me this.

BARNABAS.
We two will do our best for one another.
I take thy place as preacher—so farewell!
If I can bring him back to face his mother,
Or fight a main with Geoffrey Builth, I will.

(Exeunt.)