University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace.
Count Roger alone.
Rog.
[taking off his fool's cap.]

Despised symbol of folly, how I honor thee! Badge of lowness, how I love thee! Sad will be the day when we part. Thou art a canopy against base uses: a flag of truce among enemies. Thou art a mitre, for thou consecratest me; a crown, for thou givest me power. Under thee I can speak more plainly than a bishop, I am freer than a king.—What a heels-over-head world it is, where contempt may be turned into a handle of strength, where a mask is the best wedge to gain entrance for truth, where deception becomes honest and folly wise. But for weeping, I could be the happiest man in the world by doing naught but laugh at it. But just now there is something higher to do. Our plot thrives: we must be armed for its crisis. The King is passionate though kindly, and Orontio loyal and stern. Their next act may be harsh. Already the people murmur at my banishment, which comes near to the prince; and if Tancred himself be touched, it would be easy, out of their

anger to make a rampart or a battery; for they value and love him. 'Tis so easy for a prince to be beloved. Was there ever a good one that was not? Let the powerful be godlike, and men become angels in their cheerful obedience. Here comes the King in haste; I'll stand apart.

Enter King, with Attendants.
King.

They defy, and would deceive me. They shall know me better. Go quickly [to an Attendant]
to father Bernardo: command him to our presence. The brazen priest! I'll melt his brass!— [To another Attendant.]
Summon Orontio; say the King would see him instantly. They shall learn that I can unmake them faster than I made them. The ingrates! To uphold my son and niece in their contumacy. The traitors! And they, Matilda and Tancred—am I not their father, uncle, king? Would they beard me? would they rebel? By Heaven! I'll tame them—I'll—

Rog.
[running forward.]

A drum, a drum! I beg your Majesty for a drum.

King.

Dost thou trifle, knave?

Rog.

Not I; for the King of Aragon gave me a drum!

King.

What for?

Rog.

To choke the ears of an angry man, that he might not hear himself speak; and so, save his conscience from nettles.

King.

Rogue, I'll have thee whipped.

Rog.

Will the lashes thou givest me heal the gashes thy tongue gives thyself?

King.

Francisco, I am betrayed: I want a friend.

Rog.

I never had but one, and he never betrayed me.

King.

A priceless friend! who was he?

Rog.

Myself.

King.
Thou art a wise fool.

Rog.

Was your Majesty ever in love?

King.

Ha! Know'st thou what thou dost? Francisco, thou wakest a bitter memory.

Rog.

False?

King.

Nay, nay: she was made of truth; by nature most royal, but not by blood. Oh! Francisco, Francisco! Wilt thou think it; oft did I curse my crown, that bade my heart cease its rapturous throbs, and when it could not, turned them to aches. Even now, at times, those days, darting across the waste of years, suddenly confront me, like ruined spirits upbraiding me for a wrong.

Rog.

A great wrong to both.

King.

I have expiated it.

Rog.

But half, if thou hast a son. One of the privileges of a father—the dearest—is, from his errors to distil wisdom for the bracing of his child; whitening for him with the meridian sun of experience, clouds such as darkened his own life's morning; and thus, by extracting from ancient pangs health for his child, to create for himself a joy deeper than any that Fate had crushed.

King.

How much thou remindest me of the good Nestor, Francisco. We'll talk further.—Here comes Orontio.

Enter Orontio.
It gives me pain, Orontio, to believe
That thou wouldst counterwork the purposes
Of thy liege sovereign, and countenance
The disobedience of the prince, my son.

Oron.
If that your Majesty's old servant could
So far unlearn the lesson of his duty,
A sterner punishment would he deserve
Than ever yet your lenient heart pronounced.

King.
The prince's wayward love for Rosalie
Is not unknown to you.

Oron.
On bare suspicion
Of aught so mutinous I've schooled my daughter,—
She not unapt to learn her loyal part.

King.
'Tis well, Orontio, well: I was too hasty.
Thy calm fidelity, I should have known,
Were proof against even an unduteous thought.
Tancred I shall forbid to see your daughter.
But he, being warm and wilful, may not heed
Such prohibition. Wherefore I commit
His disobedience to your watchfulness;
With order, that you punish with arrest
The breach of my command.

Oron.
'T is a harsh office
Your Majesty imposes.

King.
Be it so.
Harshness and duty are at times one act.
This act is mine: your warrant is from me.
Use that, and send him guarded to his chamber.
The rebel must be cropped before he blossom.

Rog.
Did your Majesty ever ride on a mule backward?

King.
No, fool.

Rog.
'T is an exercise I commend to your Majesty.

King.
Wherefor?

Rog.

Why, when the stubborn rascal kicks up behind he kicks into your face.

King.

What's that to the point?

Rog.

It's the best point whence to behold the effect of blows on a self-willed brute.

Enter Bernardo.
King.

Bernardo, what means this sudden passion of Matilda for a convent? The affections of a princess should obey her confessor; and thou didst give me to think the will of Matilda lay in thy hand.

Bern.

My presumption is rebuked by the princess's piety. Her will has been moulded by a higher than I am. Priests can do much: they are not omnipotent.

Rog.

That's a truth; and if his reverence has many such he undoes a proverb we have in Spain.

King.

What's that?

Rog.

That a priest's pate is as full of lies as a virtuous hen is of eggs at Easter.

Bern.

Profane trifler, keep thy buffooneries for occasions that fit them.

King.

Nay, Bernardo; if with our wit we can not parry the fool's thrusts, we must do it with our consciences.

Rog.

So that reverences that have neither conscience nor wit must keep out of the fool's way.

Bern.

I wonder that your Majesty takes delight in this fellow's unwashed insolence.

Rog.

If things were found only where they give delight, your face, sir priest, would be for ever fixed before a looking-glass.

Bern.

Scoundrel, but for this presence I would chastise thee.

Rog.

Lighten as you will, sir, you have but one quality of thunder—your face would turn cream.

King.

Enough, enough, Francisco.—Bernardo, priestly government having failed to rule the princess, royal shall be tried. Return hither two hours hence to witness the trial. Matilda and Tancred shall both be here. Orontio, bring hither Rosalie and Blanche, and let Alphonso, Osmond, and Count Manfred, be summoned. The welfare of these young people must be guarded against their ignorance and the crudity of their wills.

[Exeunt.
Rog.
[before going off.]

A few people grow wiser as they grow older; but kings are not of the number.