University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Castle Hall—Alarm Bells ringing.
The Countess, attended. Fitzwalter. Stephen. Barnabas. Knights and Soldiers.
COUNTESS.
If this be false—and I distrust thee yet— (To Barnabas.)

Thy last lie hangs thee.

FITZWALTER.
He brings vouchers with him:
His horse's furniture is starred with gold,
His horse a stately one.

COUNTESS.
Didst steal him, sirrah?

BARNABAS.
I did; and may be hanged for worse than lying:
A gibbet beckons, turn me as I please.
Seven kings are up as constables. Good father,
The saints in glory look upon thy face!
Unless my heavy sins might break the rope,
'Tis time I should confess to thee.

STEPHEN.
Out, ape!
The sheriff's deputy will shrive thee best—
I wash my hands of such.

FITZWALTER.
Yet hear him, friar!
Haply the chips of sense he scatters round
May pay for picking up. Our hands are full.—
Let Nicholas keep the bridge. Run, good Sir Giles,
Look to the river-gate and stable-postern—
Saint Vallery shall ride forth. Better be ready,
Whether we fight or no. On Tuesday last,
Both ferries were cut off, and, father west,
The mountain roads all stopped. Now, where is Jacques?
Go, bid the armourer send my lightest helm—
Then hush those bells and trumpets.
(Enter Ladies Margaret and Bertha.)
Help at hand!
What place shall these fill?

COUNTESS.
They were best in bed.

FITZWALTER.
A kiss for early risers. Frighted sleep
Has swept before his wing the rose away,
Or else their cheeks have left it on their pillows.
Do brave men's daughters tremble thus? Sir Paul,
See that the burghers crowd us not. Look out,
But keep this side the barriers.

MARGARET.
Prithee stay!

FITZWALTER.
I must, for lack of time to run away.

[Exit.
COUNTESS.
Call the knave hither that has brought such news.
His answers have been hinted by our fears.
I will know more from him, or credit less.
Now, which way went he?—Oh!—come nearer, sir—
When was it that you parted from your lord?

BARNABAS.
Since yesterday.

COUNTESS.
And where?

BARNABAS.
This side the ferry
'Twixt Llandegwad and Vawr.

COUNTESS.
And why didst quit him?

BARNABAS.
He quarrelled hugely!

COUNTESS.
What about?

BARNABAS.
Our place—
The old world's question—whose should be preferred—
Precedence and priority by right—
Our own, and our progenitors. I said
That both of us were bastards, he and I
Recorded and renowned as such. So far
I granted parity—but still maintained
That his estate was farthest off from grace.
The deep foundation laid I built with proofs,
And plastered all with arguments. The kite
Flies far, and bears the quarry to her nest.
The cormorant feeds her chickens ere herself.
The bitch-wolf licks her cub. The adder draws
Her worms from forth the dunghill to the sun.
The witch that breeds with Beelzebub affords
To every imp a teat. If milk had failed,
My mother would have suckled me with blood.
On her side, therefore, stands my stool the highest.
His drove him out, and starved the vagabond!
Three days he has lacked bread. But truth is dear!
Its price was twenty buffets on mine ear.

BERTHA.
Didst leave him with such comfort?

BARNABAS.
He had other:
There was at hand rare store of hips and haws—
Brakes hung with blackberries; and nigh to these
Most royal company.

MARGARET.
Who else was there?

BARNABAS.
King Gryffeth, with the captain of his host,
Whose horse I borrowed. They come here afoot.

COUNTESS.
Answer me, sirrah, ere I call for whips.
Didst cross this ferry first?

BARNABAS.
Before the king—
But with his horse—so mounted, and rode on.

COUNTESS.
Gryffeth's confederate!—Get thee to thy fellows:
We two shall talk again.

[Exit, leaving Margaret, Bertha, and Barnabas.
MARGARET.
Thou didst forsake,
And dost belie thy master, Barnabas.
'Twere easier credit all the rest than this.
A traitor too!

BERTHA.
But why not credit this?
The younger born is like his elder brethren.
Slight paleing parks in honor: baseness builds
An easy stile for guilt.

MARGARET.
Cruel to say it!
I cannot, and I would not, quite forget
When he, the gentler, kissed my tears away,
'Midst petty griefs and childish wilfulness!
Now even the last has left him! Mahel lack bread!
My brother! God forgive me!

BARNABAS.
One repents.

BERTHA.
The other has repented long ago.

BARNABAS.
Ay?—what?

BERTHA.
Only her better thoughts of him.
Greatly so much, indeed—but this is all.

MARGARET.
Believe it not: her heart and tongue have quarrelled.
Let the cheeks testify in such a difference.
What blights and blanches them but love and pity?
What drowns the lamp of those proud eyes with tears?
Why are her lips sucked in and pressed together,
But that she fears a sigh might pass between?
Trust me that Mahel's groans are well avenged.

BARNABAS.
Behold, I give thee grace and breathing time.
Art sorry?—Dost eschew these cruelties?
Be humbler, or I prophesy against thee!
What Merlin spake shall fall!

BERTHA.
Better make haste,
Lest otherwise what I foresee chance first,
And ill befall which Merlin recked not of—
That whip the Countess threatened.

BARNABAS.
Thou hast said—
Therefore die stubbornly, and yet afraid;
Die young, die broken-hearted, die a maid.
While angels guard the just, the gentle guide,
Let Satan sit upon the lap of pride
Barebreached, with scorn and spite on either side.
Take back this ring: it once made one of twain—
Such ill-joined halves are now made two again.
Thou shalt repent and grieve; but both in vain!

MARGARET.
He sent it to her thus?

BERTHA.
No matter how—
Or who the ambassador.

MARGARET.
He had none else—
So soon to quit, why didst thou follow him?

BARNABAS.
By provocation of the lazy spirit,
To drive his manhood home again. Poor fool!
He looked for mercy in a world like this!
The ring itself was spared to charity.
“Its rescue from disgrace will buy thee thanks—
Thou wilt be praised for bearing it,” he said:
“I have but this with which to do thee good.”
Rather than ask such favor, let the dogs
Eat what they will of me. I would desire
A dunghill for my sepulchre, and die
Three times of kicks.
Enter Fitzwalter.
They come—Saint Vallery first,
The Lord of Builth an arrow's flight behind him!
Our fields are rank with onion-eaters' breath.
Wouldst see us fight these Welchmen, Margaret?
Then mount the gallery stairs: yet hide thy face!
Ware bolts and quarrels! One such eye as thine
Is well worth two such castles. Just in time!

MARGARET.
So Barnabas speaks truth?

FITZWALTER.
To breakfast with him—
Then show his cap above the battlements:
These Welsh may think that brains are under it.
Let some one seek the Countess. Prithee, Sir Giles,
Look to the drawbridge windlass—keep it clear;
If these our guests from Builth be not too many,
We will go forth and meet them. (trumpet)
What is this?
Enter Seneschal.
They send a trumpet to the gate, my lord.

FITZWALTER.
How far before them?

SENESCHAL.
He is close at hand—
Their foremost ranks are marshalled on the butts,
A double bowshot from the battlements.

FITZWALTER.
What knights can'st count among them?

SENESCHAL.
Seven or eight;
Followed, I think, at least by threescore spears.
The rest are guessed at by the ground they fill—
Some eighteen hundred footmen, perhaps.

FITZWALTER.
Eighteen?
Live rags, for Michael Brace!

SENESCHAL.
They keep their files,
And march beneath their banners orderly.
Others are following by the tilt-yard way—
No rabble, trust me.

FITZWALTER.
Find the Countess first:
Then bring their herald hither, Seneschal.
Enter Countess.
O, here she comes! This crazy-pated groom
We thanked so roughly for his news just now,
Has proved most wise and provident of all.
He gives an hour which scarce seems long enough.
Geoffrey is punctual, but too late. Our cousin
Is present with us here by break of day;
But lo, the door is barred! So now for heralds—
We shall be summoned lawfully!

Enter Seneschal with Sir Philip De Breos.
FITZWALTER.
De Breos!
Philip de Breos our guest again! He needs
No trumpet for his welcome.

DE BREOS.
Gently pledged—
I should be welcome, since I come for peace:
Peace first if possible.

FITZWALTER.
If not—what else?

DE BREOS.
But gentle usage till I turn my back.

FITZWALTER.
Thus much is safely yours by right, Sir Philip.
The peace you bring so swaggers in her gait—
Is plumed and harnessed in so new a fashion—
Has company so strange to her and us—
That we must needs distrust her.

DE BREOS.
For her sake
We borrow largely from our own estate,
And having all, yield half. The Earl of Brecon,
Whose father's brother died a bachelor—
Stands yet before his gates, with friends enough
To break them, if he please, or overleap.
But rather would find other friends within—
My lord Fitzwalter chief of them—henceforth
His guest and brother-in-law.

FITZWALTER.
His brother-in-law?
My wife is not his sister.

DE BREOS.
But your sister
May be his wife: both claims be satisfied—
Cuffs change to kisses—he become the host.

FITZWALTER.
What says this sister?

BERTHA.
Brother, what about?

FITZWALTER.
Sir Philip's suitor and his choice.

BERTHA.
She says,
His seeking may conduct him to the stocks,
Though not his choice. He seeks an earldom too!
The greater sot this Lord of Builth may be,
The greater need his nearest friend were sober.
Alas, are both alike?

FITZWALTER.
Ill wooing, de Breos!

DE BREOS.
Then best by proxy.

COUNTESS.
Geoffrey seeks great things
Of those who, if they would, have none to give.
Our lands and lordships here are not for barter.
My servants hold them yet!

DE BREOS.
Three Earls even still!
A jointure lord in petticoats.

FITZWALTER.
Adieu:
Go tell this bachelor outside the gates,
That if his Welshmen carry off one goose,
Or pluck one leek with which to season it,
His purse, though all too short for such a debt,
Shall make it good to me.

DE BREOS.
This will I do,
And bid him show the greater haste to woo.

[Exeunt.