University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Chamber in the Castle.
Mahel and Father Stephen.
STEPHEN.
Our lord at last! Health to the Earl of Brecon!
With all things good and happy all life through!
Ten days ago we might have hailed him thus:
But death had yet scarce left the vacant chair,
And grief, as envious of a new possessor,
Still kept her place beside it. In his shroud
Our ancient master ruled us all! we feared
Division of our reverence between you:
So stinted homage even to his heir.
Methought the bell which tolled us home from church,
Maintained so long his awe and sovereignty:
Its last stroke set us free. Our duty now
Is pleased and single too: old love still serves,
Though clad in fresher livery. Take thy place
Still higher as Newmark's Son than Brecon's Earl:
Keep it with all thy might. The meek are blessed—
Both worlds are theirs by promise—take them both:
Be gentle still, and henceforth resolute!

MAHEL.
The rather that my father hoped it not,
I will be so.

STEPHEN.
He ever loved thee best,
Even as it was, when farthest out of sight.
Betwixt himself and what he wished in thee,
A county's breadth had been too strait for peace.

MAHEL.
My duty was not measured by his love.
I have not paid back honor as he earned it.
Above his sepulchre I stood to-day,
As I would wish that both may stand for judgment,
With no reproachful thoughts to plead against me,
Remembering hasty words and rebel hopes:
Nor was pride called as counsellor to grief.
So far my heart upbraids me not.

STEPHEN.
I know it.
In that light government which ends at last,
My speed was winged as swiftly as my prayers—
A prosperous charge and easy to me—yet
I sometimes tremble at mine own success,
Mistrusting whether what I toiled to do—
Good questionless apart from that it ends in—
Being timed unseasonably, and placed amiss,
May not prove evil to thee.

MAHEL.
Thou didst teach
That what is good is singly so, or ceases:
We cannot mix or change it.

STEPHEN.
True, I did:
Yet some respect it has to circumstance;
For wise conformity is also good.
Too stubborn good, being proud, is so far evil.
We must retrench a little from its wealth
To furnish out our fortunes worthily.
Pure thoughts, fair customs, gracious biases
Are such to life as sailors to their ship,
Who guide it through the waters by their skill,
But neither choose the voyage nor rule the wind.
They sometimes steer their course a point awry,
And indirectly reach their port the sooner.
Alas, I see thee blush for me! Well, do so—
It shows that grace is still with one of us.

MAHEL.
If only one, it cannot be with me.
Whither wouldst lead me, Father?

STEPHEN.
Back again—
Even to the place I found thee in at first—
Where life's short road, yet single, parts itself;
Thy foot upon the fork 'twixt good and evil—
Paths not unlike, nor far divided, yet—
Great-hearted, ready-handed, generous, careless,
With eyes intent on glory—guileless still
As that first dove, first seen in Paradise,
Which Adam spared to name till taught by Eve.
I say by choice inclined to good. What then?
At such an age who not? This cousin of thine—
Who else like Geoffry Builth? Yet, now his feet
Wade deep, through blood, toward death.

MAHEL.
I cared not then
How soon mine followed him to such an end.
His steps were lighted by the blaze he kindled.
Thou first didst teach me that our feet have uses
Better than those which he has turned them to.
Can this prove evil to me? What dost fear?

STEPHEN.
The path is perilous nevertheless!

MAHEL.
Toward peace?

STEPHEN.
Where peace should be. What hedge shall shelter it?
Our faith? Our universal Faith? She stands
At every turn for every other use:
We swear, we covenant, we traffic by her:
Her name is on our lintels, door-posts, robes:
Her everlasting symbols are displayed
Above our cradles, tables, beds, and graves.
Who questions with her? who forbears to praise her?
Yet who on earth considers what she means?
Her badge of mercy blazons half our shields:
Sword-hilts are fashioned as memorials of it:
The cross adorns stalls built for usury—
Our hostelries have fixed it o'er the door—
It rests on harlots' bosoms in the stews!
This sign of man's forgiveness leads to battle!
While every tyrant hangs its ensign out
In scorn of justice from his battlements,
Mailed prelates march before it to the field—
Priest fights with priest, and both sides under it!
This sign and pledge of mercy! Should I slip
The leash that yet had held thee—cry halloo—
Run, swift of foot! run first in such a race?
Alas, because I spared to teach thee thus,
I tremble, as I said, but not repent!

MAHEL.
Who calls?

STEPHEN.
The Lady Bertha—then adieu!
She brings the peace we seek.
(Exit Stephen.)

(Enter Bertha Fitzwalter.
BERTHA.
To one so great
She would bring something better in its place.

MAHEL.
Better than peace is love alone—bring love
With love's best promises renewed. Behold,
My greatness shall receive them on the knee!

BERTHA.
Fie! not to-day.

MAHEL.
Ay, every day. Foul love,
Or faithless love, or love unsanctified
Were so far wise to hide himself from grief,
As that which scorns and shames him. Such as ours
May meet each other coming from the tomb,
Or travelling toward the altar. What would'st bring me,
If neither love nor peace?

BERTHA.
I will not shoot
With ell-long shafts at bees and butterflies—
I dare not at thyself. I will not spend
Wise words against love's lispings; and I fear
To aim where they might hurt.

MAHEL.
Afraid of me?

BERTHA.
Nay, that were cowardice indeed! Not I!
All feeblest things on earth have stouter hearts.
The spaniel basks at large before the fire,
Nor will he stir a foot of his for thine.
Old as she is, the cat retains thy stool,
Like Geoffrey Builth, by right of victory.
Grooms, foot-boys, falconers, pass with caps unlowered:
And babes, who fled the beadel's whip a mile,
May run to deafen Mahel with their cries.
Then why should Bertha fear him?

MAHEL.
Why indeed?

BERTHA.
Yet would she have thee feared. A common lord
Made all subordinate degrees seem less:
Earl Bernard's children were his servants too.
But now we quit this page-like garniture,
And should put on authority and awe.
I would not see thee humbler than thy state,
Nor less than those before thee.

MAHEL.
That were ill;
But worse the sudden appetite o'erfed
With unaccustomed sweets to gluttony—
A newly-feasted beggar's superflux,
Full-gorged and insolent. I need not use
My little sceptre, like a May-day king
Proud of its wreaths and gilding, to abase
Irreverend eyes in lowlier playfellows.
There will be time hereafter to assume
Those graver looks and garments one by one.

BERTHA.
They may be stolen by others first. When wear them
If not to day? Already the thieves break in!
Hereafter! not at present! sometime hence!
To-morrow, perhaps, or next day! Geoffrey Builth
Abates thee scarce an hour for breathing time.
He takes priority as older, stronger,
More skilled, more feared, and better served than thou—
Pushes his shoulder foremost in the crowd,
To hide so small a follower from men's eyes.
Nay, he supplants thee at thy father's grave,
And robs thee of his seat! Six months ago
Would Geoffrey Builth have dealt at Brecon thus?
Jostle with Bernard Newmark for his chair?

MAHEL.
Ay would he, had he wanted it. Hush! hush!
Else must I seal those lips for charity
With other pressure than of argument.
Who now will love light-hearted carelessness,
And unrespective valour marching on
With easy gait, through webs which usage spins
To snare the little legs of weaker men,
If Bertha hate them thus? Builth's noisy tongue,
O'erhasty as it is in all offence,
Seems slow and silent matched against his doings.
What land, where danger reared his ensigns highest,
Has seen another nearer them?

BERTHA.
Good sooth,
It were a potent reason to the rest
For running out of sight from such a wolf,
If all the beasts beside were hares and foxes.
Well then, he shall be master every where—
Ride with a mighty earl on either side him,
And wear his cap in church while they stand bare!
Fitzwalter was but deputy to-day,
So left the feast beneath his government,
And fled the hall—yet not through fear of him.
He would have kept his hold at Hereford.
But come—no matter—bid the guests good bye—
We are not all too brave for modesty;
So walk like those before thee. Hark! they call.

[Exeunt.