 | St. Clement's Eve |  |
Scene V.
—The Council Chamber.—The King, the Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Burgundy, the Archbishop of Sens, and other councillors; the Bastard of Montargis, the Abbot of the Bernardins, the Captain of the King's Guard, and others in attendance.Orleans.
The worthy Abbot here, my Lords, will vouch
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Nor e'er found wanting.
Abbot.
Never yet, my Lords.
The last demoniac who was dispossess'd
Was one from Vermandois,—a damsel plagued
With many devils, that she raved and shriek'd
And tore her clothes. A virgin of St. Cloud
Dipping a finger sign'd her, whereupon
A volley of blue sparks flew from her mouth,
Then crows and winged serpents; and with that
She dropp'd her arms and knelt, and praising God,
Gave thanks for her deliverance like a lamb.
Orleans.
You hear. Since which she rests inviolate.
Enough, Lord Abbot: we will weigh your words.
[Exit the Abbot of the Bernardins.
Burgundy.
May it please your Majesty, I question not
But that the tears shall work for good; they may;
But this should hinder not that means be sought
To track these devils home to them they serve;
And these sagacious Monks, as I am told,
Have now their noses on the slot. They wait
To tell their tidings. Ho there! bring them in.
[Exit Montargis.
Orleans.
For me, my Lords, as soon would I consult
With Satan's self as with his mimes and minions;
But since they please my Cousin, let them come.
I think—what smell is this?—they're not far off.
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Burgundy.
Rise, holy Fathers; say to my Lord the King
How speeds your quest?
Archbishop.
But first, I pray you, tell
Whether it be by sorcery ye work,
Or holier ways.
Father Buvulan.
My Lord Archbishop, no;
'Tis not by sorcery; but as Moses wrought
His wonders, and by Jannes and by Jambres,
Egyptians and Sorcerers, was misdeem'd
To be a Sorcerer like themselves, so we
By Sorcerers and their crew are Sorcerers call'd,
But by the faithful faithful. For our art,
We draw it from the holiest source, a book
Which God to Adam for his solace gave
When he had wept a hundred years for Abel.
He that shall read this volume when the Moon
Conjoins with Jupiter in the Dragon's head,
Shall know of secret counsels that are hatch'd
In Satan's kingdom.
Orleans.
In what language, Sir,
Is this book written?
Father Buvulan.
That which was used, my Lord,
In Paradise.
Orleans.
Who taught it you?
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My Lord,
The Book I speak of teaches it.
Burgundy.
Well, well;
To the purpose. Say, if ye know, what man
Sends by his execrable art these fiends
To vex the King, himself a fouler fiend
Than any that obey him.
Father Betizac.
Honour'd Lords,
We know, but dare not tell.
Burgundy.
How! dare not tell!
How dare ye to be silent if ye know?
Father Betizac.
My Lord, so loth are we to deem it true,
Although we know it, we would fain believe
Our art this once betrays us.
Burgundy.
Tush! no words,
Or words of weight; no trifling, Friars, here.
Speak to the point, or take your hummings hence.
Father Betizac.
Oh, Sirs, but it is perilous to accuse
Men in high places! 'twere an ill return
For our outspoken fearless honesty
Should we lie open to the vengeful strokes
Of guilty greatness; and we humbly crave
Some warrantise that what we're bid to speak
Spoken shall bring no jeopardy of life
Or liberty or goods.
Burgundy.
Now look ye, Friars;
I've heard you heretofore with patience; yes,
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In which I hold you, so far I have heard you.
But I am not a Saint; patience has bounds:
And if ye do not instantly speak out,
By God I'll have your heads.
Father Buvulan.
Ah! my good Lord,
You deal too hardly with our just intent;
But being so bidden we must needs obey
Though it may cost us dear. My Lord, the man
Who to our sorrowing insight was reveal'd
The worker of this evil on the King
Stands in this presence on the King's right hand,
His Grace the Duke of Orleans.
Orleans.
Death and Hell!
Ye felon Monks, accuse ye me?
Archbishop.
My Lords,
This is plain blasphemy—these men blaspheme—
My Lords, these men, I say these men, my Lords,—
Orleans.
These men, Archbishop? Venomous snakes, not men;
Fell vipers hissing through the mask of Monks.
Detestable Apostates, come ye here,
Yea to the face and front of Majesty,
To trample on the Royal blood of France!
Rear up thy head, thou sacrilegious snake,
Ope thy white lips and spit that lie again
In the King's face.
Archbishop.
I say, my Lords, once more,
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That are most impious, and unfit to utter,
And I may add, untrue, and very fearful,
Transgressing and o'erleaping, so to say,
Those bounds of modesty which good men honour,
Insomuch that I verily stand amazed.
Orleans.
I say no more. I am ashamed to waste
Good honest anger on a reptile's sting,
Or scold at kites and jackdaws. Sir my Brother,
I deign not to reply to this foul charge,
But leave it to your justice.
The King.
They shall die,
Yea, instantly, an ignominious death.
Ho! Captain of the Guard, arrest these Monks.
[The Guard is called in and the Monks pinioned.
My ever loving and belovèd Brother,
Who from our earliest years hast been to me
A staff and stay,—my dear delight in weal,
My solace in affliction,—be it known
Who strikes at thy fair fame strikes at my heart,
And as a traitor to the realm and me
Shall suffer death.
Father Betizac.
Oh mercy! spare our lives!
My honour'd Lord of Burgundy, save us, save us.
Burgundy.
I save you! Take them hence.
Orleans.
But first, a word;
Of your own malice, though as deep as hell,
Ye have not learnt this lesson. Tell from whom,
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And I myself may plead for you.
Father Buvulan.
My Lord,
You are most merciful and a Christian man.
We were assured his Grace of Burgundy
Knew more of this than we.
Orleans.
My cousin John!
Burgundy.
What, I, ye miscreant jugglers!
Montargis.
Take them hence—
Off with them—off! and gag them, lest their lies
Should spread amongst the people.
Father Betizac.
Base, false Knight!
[The Monks are gagged and carried off.
Burgundy.
My royal Cousin, what has moved these Monks
To mingle me with their malignities,
I do protest I know not. Before God
I am as innocent of this wrong to you
As when my mother whelp'd me.
The King.
Doubt it not,
My noble Brother. Think not that our Cousin,
Who did but yesterday at the altar's foot,
In token of a life-long good accord,
Partake with you the Bread of Life and Love,
Would ever so surrender his purged spirit
To evil counsels as to soil himself
With perfidies like these.
Orleans.
I well believe it;
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My Cousin of complicity in this,—
Yea with a faith as absolute—as myself
Of that I'm charged with. I would not believe
A cat had stolen my cream upon the oath
Of two such knaves as these; how should I then
Believe for them my royal Cousin wrought
To poison my good name? He did it not;
No, by the honour of the Fleur de Lys,
He did it not. My pledge I here renew
Of friendship and alliance.
Burgundy.
And I mine;
Here is my hand.
Orleans.
So be it. Now, my Lords,
Our day's work thus determined, God be with you!
With your good leave, my Brother.
The King.
Lords, farewell;
Our Brother, as we think, will wish us with him.
[Exeunt the King and the Duke of Orleans.
Burgundy.
I crave a word of counsel ere we part:
We see, Sirs, how no week can pass but breeds
Some new device for healing of the King;
And what we now have witness'd proffers proof
How easily in this good men may err,
The dupes of knavish craft. Touching these tears,
My cousin may be right or may be wrong;
Certes his purpose and intent is good;
But that his counsellors and instruments
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The Abbot of the Bernardins, I hear,
Is but a wily and a slippery saint;
And for my cousin's virgin, who but knows
What manner of maids they be that trade with him.
Then for the tears; there is another bottle,
Shrined in the Convent of St. Genevieve,
Which some think is the truer. How this be
I know not; but I know it is not meet
Such things be hazarded in wantonness;
And to this end it is I ask your aid.
I deem that whoso shall essay such things,
If harm should follow, howsoe'er excused,
Should expiate the issue with their lives.
So rash attempts shall fitly be foreslowen,
And none shall tamper with the King's disease
Save those that in themselves and in their means
Have a full faith. Hold up your hands for “Yea.”
[All hands are holden up.
It is decreed. I will not keep you now.
Farewell. Montargis, stay with me. Farewell.
[Exeunt all but the Duke of Burgundy and the Bastard of Montargis.
Well, this is strange, Montargis; by St. George
I nothing know what made those Monks so bold;
They had no cue from me.
Montargis.
And by the Dragon
I'll swear it was the truth that made them bold;
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The King's bedevill'd by the Duke, no other;
Men do not deal in dangerous crimes for nought,
And who but he could profit?
Burgundy.
Who but he?
Let but the King be kept incapable,
He thinks to rule supreme.
Montargis.
And for what cause
Saved he up Passac, whose infernal arts
Compass the King from hour to hour?
Burgundy.
But why
The Monks should be so desperate for the truth
At forfeit of their heads ...
Montargis.
That craves reply.
Why true then,—let me see. Faith! they were stung
At the Duke's meddling with their roast, the barber,
And, taking count he would avenge him, reckon'd
Their vengeance should have won the race of his.
Burgundy.
And when their reckonings ran them on a rock
They hail'd to me, beshrew them! It is well
My Cousin seems to think no evil.
Montargis.
Seems.
Burgundy.
Not honest, think'st thou, in his seeming?
Montargis.
Nay,
Your Highness searches men with inquisition
Subtler than mine. You're positive the Monks
No warrant had from you. I that am bound
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May swear to what you say. But who beside
Will take it for a truth that men so mean
And lowly of condition would thus dare
To put their quarrel with a potent Prince
To mortal issue, save at his behest
Who only is more powerful still? 'Tis vain
To dream the Duke, or any man, howe'er
He mask the vengeful battery of his thoughts,
Acquits you in his heart; 'tis not in man
To hold you innocent; and if you deem
The Duke so minded, you are lull'd to sleep,
That so the dagger of a dire revenge
May waken you to death.
Burgundy.
By Anthony's cap
I swear I had no part in this at all,
Nor knew of their intent.
Montargis.
Sir, 'tis all one;
Part or no part, 'tis credited to you,
And will be ever. Go not abroad, I pray,
Unarm'd or unattended. Be advised;
You are not safe. From this time forth you walk
With pitfalls in your path. 'Tis you or he
Must fall to rise no more.
Burgundy.
Well, I'll beware.
Montargis.
One vantage you may suck from what hath chanced.
The Monks, thus dying for the word they spake,
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Will now misdoubt the Duke; and if mischance
Should haply overtake him, some will say
It was not undeserved. Let care be used
To spread the accusation; taking note
The Monks, as they were led to death, were gagg'd
To stifle it. Bid waverers call to mind
The dealings of the Duke in earlier years
With Jean de Bar, and that enchanted ring
Which still he wears, that gives him absolute sway
O'er women, be they ne'er so chaste; which ring
He scrupled not most impiously to employ
Even in the Holy Week. Noise that abroad;
And likewise that he hath a chamber, lock'd,
Which none may enter, where the pictures hang
By scores, of ladies o'er whose virtue thus
He foully triumph'd.
Burgundy.
Truly, I have heard
Of such a chamber.
Montargis.
More than heard have I,
For I have seen it.
Burgundy.
Hast thou? By St. George
Thou hast an entering art; how got'st thou in?
Montargis.
Sir, by the golden key; there is no lock
Which that key fits not. To your Highness too
Free entrance shall it open, would you view
This zodiac of fallen stars.
Burgundy.
Some idle hour.
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And bring me word. I am but ill at ease;
'Twould comfort me to hear their heads were off.
| St. Clement's Eve | |