 | Babington |  |
SCENE III.
—A Chamber.Enter Babington and Agnes.
BABINGTON.
Come, gentle Agnes, ere we take to horse,
A careful courier asks for his dispatches.
Tell me what female mission I can carry,
And put to th' executive? What fashion-monger
Or sempstress, at the top o' the town favour,
Have I credentials to? Methought you look'd
As you would speak with me. What, silent still?
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Sir Jeffrey's daughter!—Tell me now, in short,
What 'tis that I must do.
AGNES.
Sooth, nothing sir—
Unless it be—not to forget us in
Your absence—nor to make that absence long.
BABINGTON.
Nay, but there's something else.—Come, say it out
Or ere I go.—Time presses.
AGNES.
There is nothing—
Or if there is, I know not how to speak't;
And, were it spoken—'twere but thrown away.
BABINGTON.
And wherefore thrown away? Why, dearest Agnes,
This hath not been your wont. Although your guardian,
I am your friend no less. Come, say your wish
Or ere I go, for go I must—and soon.
AGNES.
Then my request were better left untold—
For, would you bid me ask of you a boon,
'Twere—that you would not go.
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(much struck.)
Not go!—
And wherefore?
What superstition's this? Wherefore, dear trembler,
Should I not go?—Why, what should harm me, Agnes?
AGNES.
Nay, that I know not—do not ask me that;
But do not go—oh! not, at least, to-day!
BABINGTON.
At least to-day? and why to-day? is it
My Ides of March?—why, what is in to-day
More than to morrow, or the next, to that,
Or any other in the calendar,
That I should tarry?—what is there to fear?
Why, Agnes, sure I am an honest man,
And what should harm me, then, on any day,
Or what are days to me?
AGNES.
They should not be.
But in bad times the best are most unsafe,
And Treachery lurks where Innocence doth walk—
Indeed it doth—and, therefore, do not go.
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Tears, too!—Ah! soft dissembler, I have found it.
These are for Tichbourne.—Have I hit you now?
Nay, there's no need to blush.
AGNES.
Ah! no—no, no!—
If Babington but stay, let Tichbourne go—
I know not what I say—forgive me, sir,
And think me not immodest.—Help me, Heaven,
In this extremity.— (Aside.)
He's here, great God!
And all is lost!
Enter Ballard, hastily.
Ha!—hand in hand! Well found,
The loadstone's here. (He walks up quickly, and says, markedly,)
Remember, lady, what
I told you, not long since. Nay, let me not
Make you look serious—but you know they say
“Long leave-takings make longest absences,
And lightliest parted with comes soonest home.”
(Aside.)
Tears in her eyes! By Heaven, I like it not,
Yet Babington looks calm and cheerfully.
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So goes the proverb, lady. Honour'd sir,
I came to tell you that our horses wait
E'en now i' the court-yard, and our day wears late.
If't please you now to mount, 'tis two o'clock.
BABINGTON.
I am ready all. Here comes my mother, too.
(Aside.)
What meant her tears and most unused alarm?
Whate'er they meant—no matter—'tis too late,
And yet 'twas strange.
Enter the Lady Maud, Tichbourne, Charnock, Plasket, &c.
Mother, your hand, if't please you.
(Babington, Agnes, and the Lady Maud talk apart.)
BALLARD.
(Aside.)
I'll watch ye well until ye separate.
Methought the secret trembled on her lips.
On what a precious footing doth he stand,
'Twixt whom and ruin all the barrier is
A woman's constancy! No more o' your glances;
They might beseech a saint, or thaw the ice
Of froz'n philosophy. By Heaven, he alters!
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(coming forward.)
(Aside.)
This parting is the hardest task of all!
How fain my heart would be upon my lips.
Down, down, I say—where is my resolution?
(Aloud.)
Madam, or ere I go, it is but fit
I crave your blessing; and, next after that,
Your best commands and motherly direction.
LADY MAUD.
Thou hast it, son. And, for advice of mine,
My sole direction is thy nurture. As
Thou hast been educate, so wilt thou act,
And that was after goodness still, and honour,
And all that may become a Babington.—
Thou hast not told me when thou shalt return.
BALLARD.
(Aside.)
Never. I'll wager six to one on't! He changes
again. Keep your Basilisk eyes off him, madam, you had
best!
BABINGTON.
In some few days, perhaps—or, at the least,
Such is my purpose.
LADY MAUD.
Nay, nay; look not grave:
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My son shall make return e'en when he can;
I ask no more.
BALLARD.
(Aside.)
You had better not, seeing the business we
have in hand. Still watching him! By St Loyola, I'll
spoil this ogling!
BABINGTON.
Madam, I bid farewell:
And farewell all. (To Agnes.)
You shall be merrier
When we return.
TICHBOURNE.
I hope sir, and she shall.
BALLARD.
(Aside.)
Oh! well put in, Master Malapert!
TICHBOURNE.
Lady, an if I thought your sadness were
Because I went, in sooth I were less sad:
And so, farewell.
BABINGTON.
Come, Tichbourne, come at once;
Farewell to all.
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Farewell, mine honoured lady.
[Babington, Tichbourne, Charnock, and Ballard, go.
AGNES,
(rushing hastily out.)
He's gone, and I shall hear that voice no more.
LADY MAUD.
Why, Agnes, whither would'st thou?
AGNES,
(much agitated.)
Pardon me.—
To the south turret, madam. I would fain—
See them—take horse.
[She goes out.
LADY MAUD.
Hark, Plasket; when thou hast
Seen thy lord mount, bring Agnes to my chamber;
And pr'ythee, try devise some means of mirth.
Of late, poor thing, I've mark'd her melancholy,
And her tongue's music sadly hath declined
To a most speaking silence. She must have
Some change of mirth and converse. What it is
I know not—but there's somewhat preys upon her.
Pr'ythee, be gone.
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I shall obey you, madam.
At least, I'll do my best.
(Aside.)
Hard task to smile,
When the eye droops, and the heart bleeds the while.
[They go out.
| Babington | |