Orval, or The Fool of Time And Other Imitations and Paraphrases. By Robert Lytton |
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 | Orval, or The Fool of Time |  |
Scene V.—Interior Court of the Fortress, crowded with the
besieged nobles; old men, women, and children in various
attitudes of distress. Orval
in the midst, his arms folded.
In front, the envoy of Panurge (an old noble and kinsman to
Orval). Cries and confusion in the doors.
Orval.
No. By my son's life, by my dead wife, no!
The Women.
Pity!
Orval.
No Pity. Providence to us
Grants but the last grand general pity—death.
The Women.
Not here! not here! better the hangman's hands.
We die of fever and of famine here.
Our babes are corpses at our milkless breasts.
The Men.
'Sdeath! but we'll hear this honourable man.
Send him not back unheard. We'll hear the Envoy.
He comes commission'd from Panurge's self
To bring us terms. We'll hear him. Speak, old man!
The Kinsman.
Good citizen was I my whole life long.
Good citizen and honest is my heart.
If I have undertaken to come here,
Graced with the confidence of that great man
Who is the People's Representative,
It is because I understand my age,
And recognize its glorious mission.
Orval.
A Count.
Orval, thy madness throws us all away.
Other Nobles.
Are we his vassals? 'Sdeath, he shall find out
What we are made of! We'll no more obey him.
The Prince.
This honest Envoy, this good nobleman,
Brings us, I doubt not, honourable terms.
Behoves us hear them in our own behalf.
The Others.
Keeping our lives, we'll yield the citadel.
The Envoy.
The great man who hath sent me grants your lives
To all of you, upon the just condition
That you henceforth become good citizens,
And recognize the age in which it is
Our glorious privilege to live.
Omnes.
Well spoken!
We recognize the age in which it is
Our glorious privilege to live. We wish
To be henceforth good citizens.
Orval.
Nobles
(whispering to each other).
How can we rely
Upon the promise of this renegade?
He brings no written word. Report avers
Panurge never spares when he can smite.
Others.
Ay, that's to pause at. Once in those red hands,
Who knows what worse than death may be our doom?
Others.
Dead men, though, are we now. In all our stores
There's not a crumb of bread left.
The Women.
Men, have mercy
On us, and on your children! Must we starve?
Yonder there's bread enough to feed our slaves
Till they be fat. And here we die by inches.
The Men.
We'll hear the Envoy further.
Others.
No, at once
Surrender. There's no holding out.
Others.
Surrender!
Surrender! we waste time.
The Envoy.
I promise you,
As I have said, your liberties and lives
If you surrender. Pleading for your sakes
Who, though unwise, I yet will hope, my friends,
This much have I obtain'd of that great man
Who with his confidence hath honoured me.
Orval.
Orval.
Soldiers.
Long live our noble master! long live Orval!
Orval.
See that whatever rests of meat and wine
Be shared among our faithful soldiers, Herman.
Then to the ramparts! Friends, this braggart foe
Shall find there is some life left in us yet.
Herman.
Wine, boys, and meat! then to the ramparts, ho!
Andrew.
The will of God be done! We are all dead men.
Soldiers.
God bless Lord Orval! Wine and meat, lads! Come!
(Exeunt soldiers.)
The Women.
Orval, we curse thee in our children's name!
Children.
God, curse this Orval, for our fathers' sake!
Men.
For our wives' sake we curse thee, Orval!
Orval.
Curse
Yourselves for cowards. To the ramparts, ho!
Orval.
No. By my son's life, by my dead wife, no!
The Women.
Pity!
Orval.
No Pity. Providence to us
Grants but the last grand general pity—death.
The Women.
Not here! not here! better the hangman's hands.
We die of fever and of famine here.
Our babes are corpses at our milkless breasts.
262
'Sdeath! but we'll hear this honourable man.
Send him not back unheard. We'll hear the Envoy.
He comes commission'd from Panurge's self
To bring us terms. We'll hear him. Speak, old man!
The Kinsman.
Good citizen was I my whole life long.
Good citizen and honest is my heart.
If I have undertaken to come here,
Graced with the confidence of that great man
Who is the People's Representative,
It is because I understand my age,
And recognize its glorious mission.
Orval.
Back
Unworthy and ridiculous old man!
Hide those grey hairs for shame, ere I forget
The weakness they should honour.
Unworthy and ridiculous old man!
Hide those grey hairs for shame, ere I forget
The weakness they should honour.
(Andrew, hark!
Prithee, good knave, find Herman. Bid him haste
With all our spears to join us here. Be swift.)
(Exit Andrew.)Prithee, good knave, find Herman. Bid him haste
With all our spears to join us here. Be swift.)
A Count.
Orval, thy madness throws us all away.
Other Nobles.
Are we his vassals? 'Sdeath, he shall find out
What we are made of! We'll no more obey him.
The Prince.
This honest Envoy, this good nobleman,
263
Behoves us hear them in our own behalf.
The Others.
Keeping our lives, we'll yield the citadel.
The Envoy.
The great man who hath sent me grants your lives
To all of you, upon the just condition
That you henceforth become good citizens,
And recognize the age in which it is
Our glorious privilege to live.
Omnes.
Well spoken!
We recognize the age in which it is
Our glorious privilege to live. We wish
To be henceforth good citizens.
Orval.
Curs! hounds!
My very noble, somewhat foolish, most
Forgetful friends, methinks before you were
Good citizens you swore a certain oath
As loyal noble men to die with me
Rather than yield, save with your valued lives,
One inch of these old walls. That oath be sure
I shall not break,—nor you! Good citizens,
I mean to make you die like men, although
I cannot make you live like gentlemen.
Aha, you love your lives? you wish to be
Good citizens? you recognize (pray how?)
The glorious age in which you have found out
It is a privilege to live? Then ask
Your fathers why they taught you to oppress
And to despise all sons of Adam born
Ungraced by what the despicable lives
You care to keep have to disgraces turn'd,
Your most dishonoured titles?
My very noble, somewhat foolish, most
Forgetful friends, methinks before you were
Good citizens you swore a certain oath
As loyal noble men to die with me
Rather than yield, save with your valued lives,
One inch of these old walls. That oath be sure
I shall not break,—nor you! Good citizens,
I mean to make you die like men, although
I cannot make you live like gentlemen.
Aha, you love your lives? you wish to be
Good citizens? you recognize (pray how?)
The glorious age in which you have found out
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Your fathers why they taught you to oppress
And to despise all sons of Adam born
Ungraced by what the despicable lives
You care to keep have to disgraces turn'd,
Your most dishonoured titles?
You, Sir Count,
Ask your half-starved, emancipated serfs
How you have recognized this glorious age
In which it is your privilege to live.
And you, sir? Life's a privilege, no doubt.
But how have you employ'd it? Playing cards,
Corrupting women, in soft foreign lands
Squandering the misused revenues your hard
And grasping bailiffs wrung from the sore toil
Of miserable peasants in your own,
To pay your joyless orgies?
Ask your half-starved, emancipated serfs
How you have recognized this glorious age
In which it is your privilege to live.
And you, sir? Life's a privilege, no doubt.
But how have you employ'd it? Playing cards,
Corrupting women, in soft foreign lands
Squandering the misused revenues your hard
And grasping bailiffs wrung from the sore toil
Of miserable peasants in your own,
To pay your joyless orgies?
You, my lord,
You also recognize this glorious age;
In which your special privilege, we know,
Hath ever been to fawn upon the strong
And trample on the weak.
You also recognize this glorious age;
In which your special privilege, we know,
Hath ever been to fawn upon the strong
And trample on the weak.
What, Lady! you too?
Last of how many other loves, not all
Quite glorious, do you love this glorious age?
It was your privilege—but have you used it?—
To teach your children to be brave and true,
High-minded, pure,—and so add honest men
To this most honest world in which it is
Our privilege to live.
Last of how many other loves, not all
Quite glorious, do you love this glorious age?
It was your privilege—but have you used it?—
To teach your children to be brave and true,
High-minded, pure,—and so add honest men
To this most honest world in which it is
Our privilege to live.
O you great gods!
Must men be turn'd to worms before they die?
Death is before us: but, like soldiers, march
With me to find it in a soldier's grave,
And not, as felons, where the hangman waits
To trim the gallows.
Must men be turn'd to worms before they die?
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With me to find it in a soldier's grave,
And not, as felons, where the hangman waits
To trim the gallows.
Nobles
(whispering to each other).
How can we rely
Upon the promise of this renegade?
He brings no written word. Report avers
Panurge never spares when he can smite.
Others.
Ay, that's to pause at. Once in those red hands,
Who knows what worse than death may be our doom?
Others.
Dead men, though, are we now. In all our stores
There's not a crumb of bread left.
The Women.
Men, have mercy
On us, and on your children! Must we starve?
Yonder there's bread enough to feed our slaves
Till they be fat. And here we die by inches.
The Men.
We'll hear the Envoy further.
Others.
No, at once
Surrender. There's no holding out.
Others.
Surrender!
Surrender! we waste time.
266
I promise you,
As I have said, your liberties and lives
If you surrender. Pleading for your sakes
Who, though unwise, I yet will hope, my friends,
This much have I obtain'd of that great man
Who with his confidence hath honoured me.
Orval.
Hence, hound! or plead for thine own life.
(Andrew and Herman enter, with troops.)
Ho, comrades!
Miss not your mark . . . yon Cap of Liberty,
The terror of its worthy wearer, now
Sets shaking on his foolish forehead. Aim!
(The Envoy runs off.)Miss not your mark . . . yon Cap of Liberty,
The terror of its worthy wearer, now
Sets shaking on his foolish forehead. Aim!
Orval.
Find, bind, and to his master send him back.
A moment, gentlemen!—I have a word
To say to some old friends here.
(Addressing his soldiers in turn.)A moment, gentlemen!—I have a word
To say to some old friends here.
Luke, thy hand!
It is not easy to forget thy face
While yet it keeps that scar: and I remember
No huntsman ever handled hunting spear
As thou with that left hand of thine. Ah, Luke,
The boars had a had time of it when we
Were somewhat younger. And hast thou forgotten
That day I saved thee from a broken neck
On the Black Mountain, when we could not find
The izard we had shot?
It is not easy to forget thy face
While yet it keeps that scar: and I remember
No huntsman ever handled hunting spear
As thou with that left hand of thine. Ah, Luke,
The boars had a had time of it when we
Were somewhat younger. And hast thou forgotten
That day I saved thee from a broken neck
On the Black Mountain, when we could not find
The izard we had shot?
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And you, old friends;
Faith, 'twas a lucky chance that fired your farms,
For we rebuilt them better. Eh?
Faith, 'twas a lucky chance that fired your farms,
For we rebuilt them better. Eh?
And you,
Do you remember when to our domains,
Flying from your bad lord, you came by night?
I think you lack'd not shelter, aid, and food,
Till we found land to build you houses on,
And fields for your own tillage.
Do you remember when to our domains,
Flying from your bad lord, you came by night?
I think you lack'd not shelter, aid, and food,
Till we found land to build you houses on,
And fields for your own tillage.
Well, the times
Are changed since then: and may be you are changed,
As others are. The ground I go to win
Is scant, and only wide enough to hold
One brave man's bones. Long have you follow'd me.
But now if you would follow me, old friends,
It must be to the grave. I counsel you
Rather to follow these most noble lords
Who love their lives, as doubtless you love yours,
And leave me here to die, a little wiser,
But not much sadder, friends, than I have lived.
Are changed since then: and may be you are changed,
As others are. The ground I go to win
Is scant, and only wide enough to hold
One brave man's bones. Long have you follow'd me.
But now if you would follow me, old friends,
It must be to the grave. I counsel you
Rather to follow these most noble lords
Who love their lives, as doubtless you love yours,
And leave me here to die, a little wiser,
But not much sadder, friends, than I have lived.
Soldiers.
Long live our noble master! long live Orval!
Orval.
See that whatever rests of meat and wine
Be shared among our faithful soldiers, Herman.
Then to the ramparts! Friends, this braggart foe
Shall find there is some life left in us yet.
Herman.
Wine, boys, and meat! then to the ramparts, ho!
268
The will of God be done! We are all dead men.
Soldiers.
God bless Lord Orval! Wine and meat, lads! Come!
(Exeunt soldiers.)
The Women.
Orval, we curse thee in our children's name!
Children.
God, curse this Orval, for our fathers' sake!
Men.
For our wives' sake we curse thee, Orval!
Orval.
Curse
Yourselves for cowards. To the ramparts, ho!
| Orval, or The Fool of Time | |