University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Room in the Green Dragon. Sir George Barkley, Sir Richard Fenwick, Sir William Parkyn, Sir John Friend, Harrison, Charnock, and others, seated round a table, whereon there are papers and other implements for writing. They rise and come forward.
Sir G. Bark.
Sirs, 'tis the journey's end, without the toil,
The chance, a thousand things that stop the way,
On a long road, and cause the traveller
To curse the setting out—for what's the strife?
Why, James, or William of Nassau!—Away
With one of them—'tis done!

Sir R. Fen.
It was the counsel
I cleaved to all along.

Sir W. Park.
And I.

The others.
[Except Armstrong.]
And all.

Sir G. Bark.
Which, had it been allow'd to take its course,
Our hopes had been consummate now, instead
Of things to question. 'Sdeath, sirs! men resolved
To act, should on like men, and act at once,
Not stop and gape about them!

Arm.
Colonel Green—

Sir G. Bark.
Who's that? I trust all here are friends!

Arm.
'Twas I
That spoke!

Sir G. Bark.
And what of Colonel Green?

Arm.
The plan
Was liked by all but him—I meant to say
No more.

Sir G. Bark.
The plan was liked by all but him!
Who broke it to him? 'Tis for him to act,
Not plot. He does not like the covert blow!
No more do I—no more does any man.
But if one blow will save a million, strike,
And never hang debating on the mode.
The Colonel has seen service—

Arm.
You say right.
He's an old soldier and a gallant one!

Sir G. Bark.
Who does not know it?—Will you let me speak,
And bide your time—or, must you speak, speak on,
But tell us something new! He is a soldier,
And, would he mutter at an ambuscade?
Or, never has he plann'd nor captain'd one?
I warrant you!—'Twere news indeed to him
To tell him war is free to stratagems;
And says he it is peace? Why are we here,
And others sitting in our easy chairs?
Are not our own doors, sirs, thy very last
We dare to knock at? Are we the King's men,
And sits another on our master's throne?
The fight is over! Is it?—Ay!—indeed,
While in their sheaths our rapiers restless lie!
Before a month an army's in the field,
And is it peace?

Sir R. Fen.
You are warm!

Sir G. Bark.
I own I am.

Sir J. Friend.
We are all agreed.

Sir G. Bark.
But others should be here.
Where is the Duke of Gaveston?

Sir R. Fen.
Have you broach'd
The purport of our meeting to his grace?

Sir G. Bark.
No; for his grace is like a restive horse,
Given to back at starting—free enough,
If once he's made to go. Lead him by the head
A little, and he'll progress.

Sir W. Park.
Hark! a step!

Sir G. Bark.
See who it is!—Who is it?

Sir W. Park.
'Tis the Duke.

Enter the Duke of Gaveston.
Sir G. Bark.
Your grace is welcome, though the hour rebukes
Your punctuality.

Duke of Gav.
Nay, Sir George Barkley,
The most assuréd purpose must resign
The mastery to chance! My coach broke down.

Sir W. Park.
His grace is full in time.

Sir G. Bark.
I do not mean
To blame his grace—but a conspirator
Is one who sails in treacherous latitudes,
Where tempests give no warning, but blow up
The waves at once; where, while you look at him,
The sun goes out, and all the heaven is wrack;
And thunders bellow the next minute only,
To that when scarce the ripple at the bow
Whisper'd the vessel's course. So I mistrust,
Yet cause see none to fear. Possess the Duke
Of what we have debated and resolved.

[The Duke retires with Sir W. Parkyn.
Sir J. Friend.
[Aside to Sir G. Barkley.]
His grace is potent; what if he demur?

Sir G. Bark.
[Aside to Sir J. Friend.]
He will demur!—observe his grace's looks!
He likes not foreign aid!—That frets the grain.
He will not sail with us if he can help;
But he's aboard and we command the ship!
'Tis but “Up anchor,” and we scud along!
The cloud again, but darker!

Duke of Gav.
[Coming forward.]
Never, sirs!
'Gainst foreign aid I enter, come what may,
My protest. If we cannot right ourselves,
We'll bear our wrongs, and let our brothers have
The day, howe'er unjustly, rather than
Commit ourselves and them into the hands
Of the natural enemy!—and as for him
Who has usurp'd the throne, as we aver,
Why, let him keep it, if to strike him thence
Needs the assassin's arm! The noblest cause
Were damn'd to seek success by means so foul!
The field, sirs, if you will!—I am with you there;
But not in a conspiracy like this,
Befitting men who make a trade of blood—
Abhorr'd of those who hire them!

Sir G. Bark.
You are quick
In making up your mind to draw your stakes!
You are in the game, and must abide the deal.

Duke of Gav.
Must, sir!

Sir G. Bark.
Plain speech fits best, in grave affairs!
Sirs, we are like to mariners escaped
A founder'd ship, in open boat at sea;
The will of the majority is law,
He who demurs to which goes overboard!
Here are our measures stated; whereunto
Want but our signatures as evidence
For one and all, that all committed stand!
Come; while this solemn act proceeds, unsheath.
[They draw.
His grace, in point of right, precedence takes.

Duke of Gav.
I will not sign, sirs, neither draw my sword.

Sir G. Bark.
[Grasping the Duke's wrist.]
Nay, my lord Duke, you must.

Col. Green.
[Entering.]
Good even, sirs!
A wonted guest may come unbidden.

Sir G. Bark.
Green!
Who let you in?

Col. Green.
Who durst not keep me out.
And if he could, what is the use of doors
When councils are not close?—You talk too much,
Good Sir George Barkley! Since I thwarted you
A month ago in these same measures, which,
To carry through, you now convene your friends,
You have boasted fifty times, by this and that,
To divers hearers, and in divers haunts,
You'd bring your plans to bear; in which, I grieve,
Others, that should know better, side with you.
But not with you my business.

Sir G. Bark.
Whom besides?

Col. Green.
The Duke of Gaveston. But that he were here,
I had not come. He is refractory;
I said he would be so, and I am glad;
For prophets like to see their words come true.
Good Sir George Barkley!—

Sir G. Bark.
Sir?

Col. Green.
You make too free
With his grace's sleeve! So please you, let it go.

Sir G. Bark.
Who abets treachery?

Sir J. Friend and others.
None here!

Col. Green.
Well said,
Assassination! Well said, the allies
Of the common enemy!—the gentlemen
Who plan when William next should hunt the stag—
A masquerade, wherein the foreign bravo
Should don the British sportsman's jovial gear,
Who gives the game a chance!—who undertake
To give kind welcome to a force from France—
Suffer her skipping sons to flourish here
Weapons that never left their scabbards yet,
Except with threat against a British throat!
Who abets treachery? So!—Sir George Barkley, hear you?
I say, once more, let go his grace's sleeve!
I wish a word with him.

Sir G. Bark.
Is't not enough
We are gainsaid?—shall we be bearded too—
Our weapons in our hands?

Col. Green.
Beware, the first
Who stirs to strike. Though many look one way,
All are not of one mind. Good Sir George Barkley,
You should know better! Men, in counting friends,
May chance to overlook a foe or two.
Before you call a game of swords, behoves
You make sure of the sides. Moreover, sir,
The wisest man counts most upon himself,
As I, you see, have done!
[Throws back his cloak, and shows himself provided with pistols, &c.
Beware, Sir George,
For pistols make reports!—reports are heard!
Triggers are quick! and, if the priming burns,
Why then, in an old hand, is powder dust!
I have a sword besides, that's used to odds,
As more than one can vouch! Come, Sir George Barkley,
Let go the Duke this minute, or the next
A bullet's through your head!—You know I mark
Whenever I take aim!
[Sir George Barkley releases the Duke.
That's courteous, sir!
Your grace will please to leave my frontage clear,
And step a pace behind me. Now, Sir George,
A minute's parley, if you will.

Char.
We treat
You fairly; wherefore do you thwart us thus?

Col. Green.
You treat me fairly! Hear you, Sir George Barkley—
I speak to you, sir, you! the head of those
Who treat me fairly! Sir, you hatch'd this plot
Without my privity! Was that fair? It
Was wise—I should have crush'd it in the hatching!
You warn'd me hold myself in readiness,
With ten of those who follow me, to back you
In the enterprise, but never once let out
The nature on't,—Was that fair? It was prudent:
The breath, you breathed it in, had been your last one!
A friend—I have some—put me on my guard.
I was to learn hereafter! when I stood
Unwittingly committed in the fact!
And yet he tells me I am treated fairly!
And had it come to pass, sure as you hear me,
Straight to the block had I given up myself,
And dragg'd you thither with me, one and all!

Sir G. Bark.
Design you to betray us?

Col. Green.
No; that's truth;
But I'll defeat your plans!—That's truth again!
Your names I ne'er divulge! Your heads are safe,
For any hint that I shall give the axe!

Arm.
He is a man of honour—fear him not.

Sir G. Bark.
But I do fear him.

Col. Green.
Do, and reap the fruit!
A craven spirit scared without a cause!

Sir G. Bark.
We should not let him go.

Col. Green.
Nay, but you should.

Sir G. Bark.
Wherefore?

Col. Green.
Because you must. Good even, friends!
Be what you were, when I made one among you,—
Soldiers!—I hold not compact with assassins!
Trust to yourselves!—Make not allies of foes!
For him who owns the throne, another fills,
Array the honourable, open field,
Then call me traitor if I show not there!
Pray move not from your places—We can find
The stairs without your help—which, trust me, sirs,
Were pains that scarcely would repay themselves;
And so I take my leave.—A kind good night!

[The Duke and Colonel Green go out. The others draw into a knot in the back of the stage.