 | Plays and Poems |  |
SCENE II.
Another Room in the Palace. Enter Jane Seymour, pursued by King Henry.King Henry.
O, prithee, tarry! I am out of wind—
I'll not have breath to tell you how I love.
Stand, I adjure you, on your loyalty!
Jane Seymour.
Now am I safe; I owe you loyalty,
And you owe me protection. [Kneels.]
King H.
Nonsense, child!
[Raises her.]
You are far safer with plain Harry Tudor,
Than if the monarchs of all Christendom
Circled you round. For what are angry swords
To the raised finger of the baby Love?
I say, I love you; that implies respect.
Jane S.
Respect should teach you not to urge your love.
121
Sweetheart, pray hear me. I am all unused
To lover's logic, to the mincing phrase
That snares a heart in nets of sophistry;
I'll not attack your passion through your brain;
But at your love's unconquered citadel
I'll sit me down, with rough, unmannered haste,
And bid you open in your sovereign's name.
Jane, do you love me?
Jane S.
With all duty, sir.
King H.
Tut, tut! no duty. Would you be my queen?
Jane S.
Your wife, my liege; the tempting name of queen
Makes no addition to a loving mind.
Love asks but love.
King H.
So, well said, mistress mine!
I never thought to win your dainty heart
By bartering for it an unfeeling crown.
Love comes unsought, nor heeds the voice of power:
The very gem which, from his purple throne,
A fuming king may gaze and thunder for,
Beneath the willows of some muddy brook
A listless rustic may disclose and wear.
Then, as mere Hal, the shepherd, if you list—
Barring all sovereignty with equal terms—
Say, do you love me? [Kneels.]
Jane S.
Maiden shame, my liege—
King H.
Liege me no more—Hal—Harry—what you will
Jane S.
My maiden heart should send its blushing force
Of startled blood to whelm my guilty face,
122
Yet am I pale—ah! pale with fear to think
What woful fate may be reserved for me,
If our right noble queen—
King H.
Hell blast the queen! [Starts up.]
Jane S.
Ha! did I gall you so? (Aside.)
O pardon me!
King H.
Girl, I am well-nigh maddened by the queen.
A pack of yelling fancies bait my soul,
And each tongue seems to cheer the horrid rout,
When my fierce conscience cries—The queen, the queen!
Jane S.
O, had I suffered her extremest rage,
Ere I thus angered you!
King H.
Nay, I'll not scold.
Forgive me, sweetheart, my unmannered spleen.
My soul is much perplexed and tempest-tossed
About my marriage with this cunning queen:
I fear me, Lucifer made her a bait
To trap my soul.
Jane S.
O, you arch hypocrite! [Aside.]
King H.
Methinks the Pope was right—ay, must be right;
Since by the creed he is infallible.—
Jane S.
Not by the new one.
King H.
There the sorrow lies:
I have main doubts of our new-gendered creed.
If he be right, then is our union void;
For, by his voice, poor Katharine was my wife.—
I will consult my lords on this grave point.
Jane S.
Your nobles wear your eyes; but, then, the people—
123
I'll make half England see without their heads,
But I will wed you! Sweetheart, promise me,
If I can offer an unmortgaged hand,
That you will take it.
Jane S.
Thus I promise you.
[Gives her hand.]
King H.
When next we meet, I'll show you many a way,
To lead us from this labyrinth of doubt,
As soft and thornless to your pretty feet
As the rich velvet whereon you shall tread
To mount the dais of our English throne.
Till then, adieu!
(They separate—she rushes back.)
Jane S.
Sweet Harry, be not rash!
King H.
O, I would fawn, and play the stricken cur
To any groom, whose love-illumined wit
Could steal from time the weary chain of days
That links our purpose to its hopeful end.
[Exeunt severally.]
| Plays and Poems | |