University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Room in the Castle.
Enter Cardinal and Balfour.
CARDINAL.
What of my other bus'ness now, Balfour?
The door is shut—no ears lurk in these walls
To swallow up our conversation:
Come, thou'rt my precious man, my internuncio,
My confidant, my true Achitophel,
My second heart, so rich of shrewd device,
My maker-up of dead kings' testaments,
My cream of Priesthood, my most saintly cheat,
What tidings, man? what deep dark things are hid
Beneath the sober curtain of thy face?
Prithee, unmask, my dear mysterious Harry!

BALFOUR,
(looking round).
Are the coasts clear, my lord, of human ear?
Is't certain that your key-hole may not prove
An ear-trump, to betray us and our words
To some insidious menial cowr'd behind?

CARDINAL.
Tush, man! my house has not an echo in it;
My menials are as trusty to their lord
As is th'impressive ocean to the moon;
Out with it all—does Falkland Palace stand?
Or has the wind blown Queen and it away?

BALFOUR.
My lord, my lord, things brighten in the west;
There's hope—our church's sun is rising there
Mirac'lously, and will shine eastering on,
To quench and quell these Lutheran Will-o'-Wisps.

CARDINAL.
Sweet Harry, I grow merry at your news;
Therefore, now break your gen'ral answer down
Into minute and sweet particulars;
Mince it to charming crumbs of nice detail,
For I am mad to snap it every bit.
How look'd on you my good Queen-dowager,
When to her fair hands, and her gracious ears,
You gave my letter and my secret message?

BALFOUR.
No sooner, my Lord Cardinal, did I reach
The palace-gate, and to the Queen my name,
With your auspicious packet, was convey'd,
Than to her presence I was bid ascend.
I found her joyously array'd in smiles,
Eating with greedy eyes your penmanship;
At once her voice broke out a peal of welcome,
How is Lord Cardinal? I am glad to see you
Fresh come from one I hold in such esteem:
He is the most trust-worthy man in Scotland;
Out of mine own dear France there's none like him.
And she read on the while, and all the while
Complacency stood mantling on her visage,
And, So I see, she said, you're to have soon
A bonfire in your eastern nook of Fife:
I wish to God I was along with you,
To warm my chilly spirit at its heat.
For this your Falkland's but a frozen place!
Once they did mock me too, these dogs of Fife,
What day I landed at Balcomie-house;
They busk'd me up an heretic of straw,
A thing combustible of clouts and paint,
Clept Captain Borthwick, from its mimicry.
This setting fire to, they did fob me off,
Crying, See Captain Borthwick, how he roasts!
And to be sure the pseudo-man flash'd off
At once into a pyramid of fire,
Seeing he was but made of tinder-clouts;
But I'd fain see a substance, not a show,
A good solidity of bones and flesh,
Staked up, as I have seen in France, amid
The luscious torments of a good slow fire.
These lairds of Fife have aye been mocking me,
But Cardinal and I ere long, for this
Shall have them lustily upon the hip.

CARDINAL.
Well spoken, faith, and worthy of the Guise!

BALFOUR.
And then she cast a glance around the room,
To see if all her maidens were aloof,
And spoke most whisp'ringly, scarce audible,
Of Monday's plot; and how the taking off
Of these Guise-grudging Luther-liking squires,
Was as the very marrow to her bones.
She had perused your list, and liked it well:
“'Twas written,” said she, “with a master's pen;
The flower of Scotland's heresy was in it.
Then for dear Monsieur Lorgê, fear him not;
He is my falcon; I will twitch him to me,
By the long jesses wound about his legs,
Even though he stood upon Dumbarton rock.
And Huntly would be down, (provided that
His load of lard would suffer him to march,)
Waddling in fiery zeal, and back'd and flank'd
By half the sturdy Papists of the North.
These two will quite suffice, methinks, t'oppress,
Hand-cuff, or fetter, all the squires of Fife.
Only, be sure, let Cardinal be here
On Sunday eve at farthest, that he may
Digest the execution all himself:
It rests upon his shoulders; he must bear
The burthen of the doing, as the name
And shrewd invention all remains his own.”

CARDINAL.
Excellent lady!—I'll take all the doing,
But halve with her the glory of th'exploit.

BALFOUR.
And when her story was all whisper'd out,
She put this golden ring into my hand,
And said, “Give this poor token to my lord,
It will convince him of my faithfulness.”

CARDINAL.
Excellent pledge! I'll wear it near my heart,
And idolize it as a crucifix!—
Well, Sunday morn will give me wings to fly,
Not to the church to mumble matins o'er,
And beg for mercy on my adversaries,
But to the Guise's chamber; there to don
The sec'lar sword, wherewith to smite them all,
And send them huddling down to Charon's boat.—
Harry, thou hast achieved this business well;
Thou hast relieved me—I'll reward thee for it.
I'll have thee dignified one day for this:
When that old coughing Lollard, Cranston, 's housed
In's earthy mother's lap, I'll have thee perch'd
High on St Mary's summit. There thou'lt tower
In sunny bright prosperity.—Meanwhile,
Sweet Harry, be contented with this handful.
[Giving him gold.
'Tis a small guerdon; but 'twill keep thy heart
Bedded in wine and viands, till, perhaps,
That hiccupping old Lutheran be gone.

BALFOUR.
I thank you, my good lord; and if your needs
Require again my faithful services,
In tongue, or foot, or hand, in this good work,
Or any other, I'm at your command;
For ever prompt and expedite for action.

CARDINAL.
Thou art a worthy fellow, I can trust thee.
Thy heart is as a grave to keep a secret;
Therefore I need not charge thee to be still.

BALFOUR.
The grave, my lord, shall gasp her dead men out
To open air, ere my loose tongue let out
What's twined in coils of secrecy within.
[Exit Balfour.

CARDINAL.
Now I am somewhat solaced. This good news,
Assuring me of all my plans matured,
And swoln e'en to the bursting, hath blown off
The heavy, dark, inexplicable damp,
That at times hover'd strangely o'er my heart.
My spirit's atmosphere is now more clear;
Though here and there bespotted somewhat yet
With specks of gloom, prognostics of no storm.
For that young bully's dagger—I do slight it;
'Tis but a scribbling threat, a thrust on paper
With a pen's point, a formidable nothing.—
Maugre all threats, I'll revel it to-day;
I'll play the Oriental; I will loll:—
Ho, chamberlain!—

Enter Chamberlain.
Go, sir, the windows of the western room
Over the gate, o'erlay with softest stuffs.
Unchest those cushions, fretted rough with gold,
Whereon, in church, I kneel at festivals:
Unroll thy carpets and thy velvet bolsters;
Give them an airing on the window-sill;
Spread them out thick, and rich, and soft as roses,
That I may lean and wallow there at ease,
Elbowing my arms amid the golden tufts,
As, through my eyes, my soul luxuriates
Amid the torments of the heretic.
The prelates shall be with me; make good room
Also for them: and bolster every window
That looks out on the spectacle of fire.
Panter is fat, and will require to be,
Ere he can suck in any joy at all,
Well pillow'd on some flock or feather-bed,
To save his belly grating on the stone.—
Go, set about it instantly; the time
Gallops fast onward to the burning hour;
And we must taste this bit of entertainment
Far otherwise than on the Castle-hill,
Where men stand looking on their weary shanks.

CHAMBERLAIN.
My lord, the windows shall be strew'd anon,
As you direct, with all our prime of stuffs.
[Exit Chamberlain.

CARDINAL.
Then, when the fire-work's ended, and our eyes
Have suck'd their fill of golden satisfaction,
We must give belly, too, his share of cheer,
And not defraud it on this festival.
Now, that so many crosiers are met
Within my palace's precincts, they must,
Ev'n for the honour of a Cardinal's kitchen,
Have fare befitting. I'll step down myself
And see my cooks; a master's eye, I trow,
Makes a fat dinner, as it makes fat horse!

[Exit.