University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The cavern: discovering in rear a long arched passage, filled with armed men, disguised as foresters, friars, &c. Mountfort, Bertram, and Bardolph, in armour, with torches in their hands, marshalling the throng. They at last come forward.
Mount.
A goodly brotherhood, friend Bertram!
I ne'er saw better faces cowled: I spy
Devotion in them.

Bard.
Douglas! cap-à-pie!

Enter Douglas.
Doug.
Now, by my hand, old Mountfort, that white beard
Becomes a breastplate.

Bert.
Say, where tarries Percy?

Doug.
Yet in the hall.

Mount.
How goes the revel?

Doug.
High:
They feast like gods: the Norman beakers clang,
And foam, as for another kingdom won.
Harps, horns, recorders, timbrels, trumpets, drums,
Swell like the sea-stave: turret, keep, and tower
Return a groan like ordnance from the hills.

Mount.
Roar! roar! till wassail from the gates send forth
A voice like Babylon! But, sterner sounds
Those towers may echo ere the dawn of day.

Bert.
All things seemed hush without the walls?

Doug.
As death.
I met no living thing, nor heard a sound.

Enter a Sentinel.
Sent.
My lords, two stag-hounds just now crossed my watch.

Bert.
Ha! stragglers of the chase are out.
Stand close.

Doug.
Hush!

(Springs to the mouth of the cavern.)
Bard.
What 's there?

Bert.
Hold, Sirs; keep in.

Mount.
What saw he?

Doug.
(dragging in Rook.)
Confront the light.—Hey! Chevalier of Steeds!—
Comest thou to taste my whip again?

Mount.
Sirrah,
What brought thee here?

Rook.
Sirrah! my legs.

Mount.
Snap'st, dog?
Look that they bear thee stiffly then.

(Strikes him.)
Rook.
Dotard,
I'll pluck thy beard! I know thee.

Mount.
Dost thou, owl?
Then this,—and this,—for old acquaintance' sake.

(Beats him with his gauntlet.)
Enter Second Sentinel.
Second Sent.
Voices are in the wood, my lords, that draw
Apace this way.

Doug.
Death! (Unsheaths his sword in alarm.)


Bert.
Quick! shroud those torches.

Bard.
Now villain, speak not, as thou lovest thy life.

Mount.
(Snatching out his dagger, and half throttling Rook.)
Stand where thou art,—dumb,—motionless,—or else
By God, and by the Sangreal, this throat
Never gasps more!

(Voices heard without; and the trampling of horses passing by. The sounds grow fainter; and, by degrees, die away. After an interval of silence, Bertram and Douglas cautiously approach the cavern's mouth.)
Bard.
Our hold is safe.

Mount.
What! Douglas,—up the wind?

(Bardolph and Mountfort follow the other two; and all stand listening. Rook steals, unperceived, behind a dark angle of the wall.)
Bert.
That shrillest voice was Neville's page.

Doug.
Their course
Is toward the castle. Yet I hear the hoof-tramp.

Bert.
Benighted huntsmen, not a doubt.

Doug.
Great Jove!
They must have passed within a lance's length.

Mount.
Hark!
A shout.—

Bert.
Their salutation at the gate:
And now athwart the barbacan they clatter.

Doug.
(turning.)
Ha! where 's that villain?

Bert.
Heavens!

Mount.
Incarnate fiend!
One instant since he stood behind me.

Doug.
Watch there—
He could not pass,—he lurks in some dark nook—

(Rook darts from the cavern.)
Mount.
(clapping his hands.)
Escaped, by Heaven!

Bert.
And Percy 's lost!

(Douglas snatches a cross-bow from one of the Sentinels and rushes out, followed by Bardolph.)
Mount.
My life upon that bolt!—
Now Douglas!—Bardolph!—now like greyhounds strain!

Bert.
We 're lost,—'t is dark,—he cannot,—all is lost!

Mount.
(striding up and down, greatly agitated.)
Who says we 're lost?—O, Douglas! now outstrip
Your mountain whirlwinds,—Lost, my lord?—No—no—
(Aside, in a sudden and eager whisper.)
But if—were 't best? Ha?—swoop upon them, ere
He warn them?

Bert.
What?

Mount.
Peace! Hark!—He cannot 'scape!—
Twang, noble Scot!—O, wet the feather, Douglas!—

First Sent.
My lords, they come.

Re-enter Douglas and Bardolph bearing in Rook, wounded with an arrow.
Mount.
Lo!—Lo!—I knew it!—Heaven!
I saw!—Could Douglas fail in such a cast?

Bert.
O, Douglas, thou hast saved us! twice hast saved us!

Doug.
What mean these chances, friends, that tread so fast
On one another's heels?

Bert.
Omens, I fear,
Of fatal augury.

Mount.
Of victory!—of vengeance!—
Doth not the blood of yonder miscreant—

Enter Percy.
Doug.
Tush!
Help him aside.—How speeds it in the hall?

Per.
As yet, our fortune shines in the ascendant.
Henry is high in glee; Neville well pleased;
His haughty Lady smiles, and sends such cups
Of potent Rhenish round as Mars would reel with.—
Are all the forces here?

Bard.
All come, all harboured.

Per.
Well: the hour draws nigh. Where 's Fitzhugh?

Mount.
Sick,
Sick, Percy! taken last night grievously!
O, look not in my face.—Five hundred spears
Came at my heels.

Per.
(pressing his hand.)
Heroic Chief! What cause
Couldst thou not animate!—The order, friends,
You fully know. Lord Mountfort will control
This post, the vaults, and subterranean passes?
Bardolph invest the walls; Bertram defend
The armory. My side the Douglas guards.
Grave on your hearts the iterated charge,
No sword be sheathless, nor an arrow poised,
Till I command. Who stirs ere that for blood,
Is Percy's foe. The King will quickly rise:
Then comes the Masque; and when the castle bell
Strikes, to your posts. To questions, answer, Masquers.
(To Douglas.)
A word with thee.

(They retire down the cavern.)
Bert.
O, that the die were cast!

Bard.
You seem much downcast, Bertram.

Bert.
I have seen times
Ere now, when darkness black as Erebus
Shut in my soul, and this world seemed a lair
For beasts to howl in; but, as grace I hope,
I never keener anguish felt than now:
Scarce, when I plucked my blasting dagger forth,
And found it reeking with a brother's blood.—
Like one commissioned from the skies to heal me,
He came, a ministering Angel, to my cell.
Wisdom, and peace, as honey, from his lips,
Assuaging fell. He reasoned, comforted,
Convinced me—Oh! you know not half his worth,
Not half the beauties of his generous heart.
Now, should he fall,—should savage Henry crop
This flower of nature—

Mount.
Tut, no fear of that.

Bert.
How bore the King, Sir, when devouring hosts
Tumbled, like billows, round him; birds of death
Screaming above his head?—At evening's close,
His bandogs gorged the flesh of Princes; Knights,
And Nobles lay, as blasted locusts heap
The desert sands. Will he tamely submit?
He slur the brightness of his vaunted glory
By lightly yielding to our threats?

Mount.
Wait till we ask it!—Fight it to the death!
The boon we crave!—Forbid it, Vengeance! Yield?
First let him taste us; grapple once with men,
Not dainty sucklings of the milk of France.

Bert.
Your passion leads astray. Suppose him slain:
Where are we then?

Mount.
Where are we? Lords of England.

Bert.
Would Bedford, Clarence, Glo'ster, bow to that?

Mount.
Think'st thou we wait their leave?

Bert.
Your scope, my lord,
I know not. If at civil bloodshed—

Mount.
Nay, love not that; though I should like to pay
Some rubs and knocks that I and others took
Of upstarts.

Percy and Douglas return.
Per.
Nothing, my friends, have I to add.
To say,—Be resolute; be cool;—were breath
Spent idly, Mark! the bell. Adieu!

Mount.
Percy and Esperance! Sound, trumpets! Charge
For old Northumberland!

Bert.
Farewell! farewell!

Per.
Cheer up, kind Bertram: faint not at the door.
Remember Percy's motto—

Mount.
(in a low voice to Douglas.)
Haggard,
Look to the stag of ten!

Per.
No further talk: now to your several charges.

(Exeunt Percy and Douglas: the rest move down the cavern.)