 | The Earl of Brecon |  |
SCENE I.
Chamber in Brecon Castle.Barnabas and the Master Falconer.
BARNABAS.
The Lord of Builth, and master everywhere.
His uncle's burial issues in a feast;
Therefore he will be merry. What cares he
How sadly show the hangings overhead,
So that the wine-cup sparkle ruddily?
I look for pipes and cornets by-and-bye.
With this his uncle he did eat and drink;
And now he eats and drinks because of him.
FALCONER.
Since noon I doubted of his holiday.
Pray Heaven he spare the minstrelsy to-night!
BARNABAS.
My place was with the warders last of all,
I could not see the Earls at setting forth.
FALCONER.
He, Geoffrey, Lord of Builth by soccage fief,
Must ride to church chief mourner, in the midst
'Twixt Mahel and the Earl of Hereford!
BARNABAS.
This Builth would take the first man's place from Adam!
FALCONER.
A younger brother's child is nearer kin
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Of greater majesty than two such earls!
Ever till now men's issue were their heirs.
BARNABAS.
The heralds called their names?
FALCONER.
Ay, orderly,
With little learning in their craft they might:
The next in blood is highest in degree.
First Mahel, Earl of Brecon: after him
Fitzwalter, Earl of Hereford: and last,
This kinsman Geoffrey Newmark, Lord of Builth.
BARNABAS.
What did he then?
FALCONER.
Spurred right betwixt the two:
Nor might the pursuivants stop, turn, or shame him.
He bent D'Eyle's silver sceptre 'cross his pate
For only thinking of it.
BARNABAS.
What said Mahel?
FALCONER.
He?—not one word. Grief-choked and blind with tears,
He cared not how he went. So Builth rode midst
Through Castlegate and Boroughgate to church,
Despite of Hereford, whose choice was patience,
Or blows, or turning back again.
BARNABAS.
He fills
His cushion at the feast by some such tenure;
And once again usurps Fitzwalter's place.
The guests bareheaded stood beside their stools,
And in walked Hereford with horns before him—
Grooms, vergers, chamberlains, apparitors—
Sir Humphrey Uske, Sir Giles, Saint Vallery,
But first, the Seneschal to clear his way.
Straight toward the steps, and where the board runs crosswise
He treads suspicionless as heretofore:
And lo! what finds he there but Geoffrey Builth
In state, as host, beneath the baldichin!
A lord amongst his lieges!
FALCONER.
Mercy on us!
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Builth calls out “stools and trenchers” lustily,
“Room for his noble kinsman Hereford;”
But still he keeps his seat. Fitzwalter stares,
Then turns him round to speak that all may hear—
“Our shrovetide gambols last till midsummer.”
With that he leads his servants down the hall,
And fairly out of it.
FALCONER.
They ring the beakers!
Empty again! Run, Barnabas!
(Exeunt.)
| The Earl of Brecon | |