 | Comedies |  |
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A Room in the Palace.Count Roger alone.
Rog.
[taking off his fool's cap.]
Despised symbol of folly, how I honor thee! Badge of lowness, how I love thee! Sad will be the day when we part. Thou art a canopy against base uses: a flag of truce among enemies. Thou art a mitre, for thou consecratest me; a crown, for thou givest me power. Under thee I can speak more plainly than a bishop, I am freer than a king.—What a heels-over-head world it is, where contempt may be turned into a handle of strength, where a mask is the best wedge to gain entrance for truth, where deception becomes honest and folly wise. But for weeping, I could be the happiest man in the world by doing naught but laugh at it. But just now there is something higher to do. Our plot thrives: we must be armed for its crisis. The King is passionate though kindly, and Orontio loyal and stern. Their next act may be harsh. Already the people murmur at my banishment, which comes near to the prince; and if Tancred himself be touched, it would be easy, out of their
Enter King, with Attendants.
King.
They defy, and would deceive me. They shall
know me better. Go quickly
[to an Attendant]
to father
Bernardo: command him to our presence. The brazen
priest! I'll melt his brass!—
[To another Attendant.]
Summon
Orontio; say the King would see him instantly. They
shall learn that I can unmake them faster than I made them.
The ingrates! To uphold my son and niece in their contumacy.
The traitors! And they, Matilda and Tancred—am
I not their father, uncle, king? Would they beard me?
would they rebel? By Heaven! I'll tame them—I'll—
Rog.
[running forward.]
A drum, a drum! I beg your Majesty for a drum.
King.
Dost thou trifle, knave?
Rog.
Not I; for the King of Aragon gave me a drum!
King.
What for?
Rog.
To choke the ears of an angry man, that he might not hear himself speak; and so, save his conscience from nettles.
King.
Rogue, I'll have thee whipped.
Rog.
Will the lashes thou givest me heal the gashes thy tongue gives thyself?
Francisco, I am betrayed: I want a friend.
Rog.
I never had but one, and he never betrayed me.
King.
A priceless friend! who was he?
Rog.
Myself.
King.
Thou art a wise fool.
Rog.
Was your Majesty ever in love?
King.
Ha! Know'st thou what thou dost? Francisco, thou wakest a bitter memory.
Rog.
False?
King.
Nay, nay: she was made of truth; by nature most royal, but not by blood. Oh! Francisco, Francisco! Wilt thou think it; oft did I curse my crown, that bade my heart cease its rapturous throbs, and when it could not, turned them to aches. Even now, at times, those days, darting across the waste of years, suddenly confront me, like ruined spirits upbraiding me for a wrong.
Rog.
A great wrong to both.
King.
I have expiated it.
Rog.
But half, if thou hast a son. One of the privileges of a father—the dearest—is, from his errors to distil wisdom for the bracing of his child; whitening for him with the meridian sun of experience, clouds such as darkened his own life's morning; and thus, by extracting from ancient pangs health for his child, to create for himself a joy deeper than any that Fate had crushed.
King.
How much thou remindest me of the good Nestor, Francisco. We'll talk further.—Here comes Orontio.
It gives me pain, Orontio, to believe
That thou wouldst counterwork the purposes
Of thy liege sovereign, and countenance
The disobedience of the prince, my son.
Oron.
If that your Majesty's old servant could
So far unlearn the lesson of his duty,
A sterner punishment would he deserve
Than ever yet your lenient heart pronounced.
King.
The prince's wayward love for Rosalie
Is not unknown to you.
Oron.
On bare suspicion
Of aught so mutinous I've schooled my daughter,—
She not unapt to learn her loyal part.
King.
'Tis well, Orontio, well: I was too hasty.
Thy calm fidelity, I should have known,
Were proof against even an unduteous thought.
Tancred I shall forbid to see your daughter.
But he, being warm and wilful, may not heed
Such prohibition. Wherefore I commit
His disobedience to your watchfulness;
With order, that you punish with arrest
The breach of my command.
Oron.
'T is a harsh office
Your Majesty imposes.
King.
Be it so.
Harshness and duty are at times one act.
Use that, and send him guarded to his chamber.
The rebel must be cropped before he blossom.
Rog.
Did your Majesty ever ride on a mule backward?
King.
No, fool.
Rog.
'T is an exercise I commend to your Majesty.
King.
Wherefor?
Rog.
Why, when the stubborn rascal kicks up behind he kicks into your face.
King.
What's that to the point?
Rog.
It's the best point whence to behold the effect of blows on a self-willed brute.
Enter Bernardo.
King.
Bernardo, what means this sudden passion of Matilda for a convent? The affections of a princess should obey her confessor; and thou didst give me to think the will of Matilda lay in thy hand.
Bern.
My presumption is rebuked by the princess's piety. Her will has been moulded by a higher than I am. Priests can do much: they are not omnipotent.
Rog.
That's a truth; and if his reverence has many such he undoes a proverb we have in Spain.
King.
What's that?
Rog.
That a priest's pate is as full of lies as a virtuous hen is of eggs at Easter.
Bern.
Profane trifler, keep thy buffooneries for occasions that fit them.
Nay, Bernardo; if with our wit we can not parry the fool's thrusts, we must do it with our consciences.
Rog.
So that reverences that have neither conscience nor wit must keep out of the fool's way.
Bern.
I wonder that your Majesty takes delight in this fellow's unwashed insolence.
Rog.
If things were found only where they give delight, your face, sir priest, would be for ever fixed before a looking-glass.
Bern.
Scoundrel, but for this presence I would chastise thee.
Rog.
Lighten as you will, sir, you have but one quality of thunder—your face would turn cream.
King.
Enough, enough, Francisco.—Bernardo, priestly government having failed to rule the princess, royal shall be tried. Return hither two hours hence to witness the trial. Matilda and Tancred shall both be here. Orontio, bring hither Rosalie and Blanche, and let Alphonso, Osmond, and Count Manfred, be summoned. The welfare of these young people must be guarded against their ignorance and the crudity of their wills.
[Exeunt.
Rog.
[before going off.]
A few people grow wiser as they grow older; but kings are not of the number.
SCENE II.
A Room in Orontio's House.Enter Rosalie.
Ros.
Why so much dread what I so much desire?
His coming I do fear; and came he not,
I'd rail at fear that it had banished him.
My weakness will be yet too strong for me.
Pride and my maiden modesty, where are ye?
Gone with the vaunted puissance of my will,—
Cold vapors drunk by the spring sun of love;
Leaving me pervious as the lake's white breast,
Defenceless bared to thirsty summer's beams,
Which quiver flaming through its mystic depths.
I am as helpless as an unweaned child.
Why not as innocent?—Come, helpful Truth,
Be thou my strength! Gird me against myself,
Against Self-Love's perfidious subtleties.
Away, low Fear! vile serf to Falsity.
Proud Boldness, come! brother to high-bred Candor.
Away, too, virgin Coyness! for to Truth
Even youngest Modesty can trust herself,
And wilt no blossom of her roseate wreath.
Enter Tancred.
Tanc.
Fair Rosalie, a dearer privilege
Than this I count not in my favored life.
Ros.
Your highness' generosity misnames
Won by your rank ere 'twas so by your kindness.
Tanc.
The breath that calls me kind proves you unkind.
Ros.
Then are my words blind traitors to their speaker.
Tanc.
Speaking of rank, which was not in your thought?
Ros.
Nor I, nor any one, nay, not yourself,
Can think of you disjointed from your rank.
Rank is a something grows into the blood:
You can not throw it off as 'twere a cloak.
Tanc.
If it do cumber me I can and will.
Ros.
You are so cumbered for the general good.
Unlike to low-born care, which drags down lower,
Your burthen lifts you on its loftiness,
Bearing along promoted multitudes.
Oh! 'tis divine, to sit upon a seat,
So sacred high, so founded in its might,
That, issuing thence, deeds are medicinal,
Blessing with ceaseless flood the fevered million,
And words outvoice Olympian thunderbolts.
Tanc.
You make me fall in love with royalty,
So grandly you conceive its righteous office.
The throne, till now a barren steep, looms up
A longed-for tufted island; while in thee,
Imagination kindling on itself,
Brandishes her torch and beckons thee to follow
To that proud seat thy words so deftly build,
There to enring thy temples with a crown,
The tribute of a heart grown rich through thee.
Prince, your heart beats not for yourself alone:
Within it palpitates a Nation's life.
You are too large for private joy or grief,
Which melt before the sun of public needs.
Custom and fitness and paternal law,—
Whose triple strength holds duty in their thrall,—
O'errule a prince's destiny. For me
You are too high, and I for you too low.
Submit me to our lots—which are so blest,
That to complain of them were blasphemy—
And our first meeting let us look upon
As Fortune's spiteful trickery, wherewith
She takes delight to baffle mortal wills.
Tanc.
To mould one's destiny is nobler far
Than to inherit it; and to a will
Steadfast and crafty, Fortune proves a coward,
Who yields, then serves whom she had combated.
But better can I triumph over her,
Throwing away her sugared poisonous gifts,
And from the dangerous throne leaping down gladly
Into thy arms. For this there's precedent.
Often have kings descended from their seats;
Sometimes by willing resignation; oftener
By noiseless force of hostile circumstance,
Or harsh constraint of prosperous adversaries.
And shall not I—untasted yet the sweets
Of that great feast, whose thoughts have never swum
On royal hopes, committed as they are
Of holy knowledge—shall not I descend,
When—like glad snowflakes that come swiftly dancing
From freezing heights, to melt them on the warm earth
And swell its fruitful currents—my descent
Shall be from frosty gloom to sunny joy.
But no: I will not down; thou shalt mount with me.
For nothing less than queen did Nature mould thee
Enter from behind, Orontio, with Guards.
In such pre-eminent proportions—
Oron.
Prince, I arrest you by the King's high order.
Tanc.
Arrest me! What new tyranny is this?
Oron.
You, Rosalie, withdraw into your chamber.
[Exit Rosalie.
Tanc.
Am I a common subject of the King,
That he thus outrages my will and person?
Oron.
Your highness knows me for the crown's sworn servant,
Who execute commands unquestioning.
Tanc.
I will obey. Lead on then to the prison.
Oron.
Your highness is no vulgar prisoner.
Your own apartment is your prison, till
His Majesty shall please thence to release you.
Tanc.
His Majesty may find it not so easy
To get me out as put me in. Lead on.
[Exit, guarded.
Orontio,
alone.
It is a fratricidal combat, bitter
This is the roughest day that e'er I lived.—
Others must do the rest.—What a great light
Blazes above my house so suddenly!
Shall it be quenched? Man should not be so tempted.—
My daughter, my beautiful child! Thou art,
As never woman was, fit for a throne.—
God's will be done, not mine.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
A Hall in the Palace.Enter Alphonso, Osmond, Manfred, severally.
Alph.
Heard you the news?
Osm.
Prince Tancred is arrested.
Alph.
Ay, in Orontio's house, by the King's order.
Manf.
For what?
Osm.
For disobedience to the King.
Alph.
And love for Rosalie. The King desires his marriage with Matilda. He refuses, and seeking interview with Rosalie, was by her father, in her presence, arrested.
Manf.
Have you been summoned hither by the king?
Alph.
I have.
Osm.
And so have I.
Manf.
What may this mean?
Alph.
We soon shall know; here comes his majesty.
King.
Chamberlain, where is the princess?
Cham.
This letter, addressed to your majesty, just now delivered into my hands, is from her highness.
King.
Read it, Orontio.
Oron.
[Reads.]
“I beseech the King to forgive me: I beseech my father to forgive me. The hand of God has guided my blind footsteps, and led me to the convent of St. Cecilia as my only home on earth.
“Matilda.”
King.
Poor child! too good art thou to need forgiveness of
guilty man. Well; it may be thou hast done the best for thyself.
Thou wast too guileless for this pitfall of a world.—
[A tumult heard without.]
What is that noise?
Cham.
[Coming from the window.]
The people, sire demand that the prince be liberated.
King.
Where is the prince? He should be here.
An Att.
Sire, he refuses to leave his room.
King.
Command him in our name.
[Exit Attendant.
[Tumult increases.]
Where is the captain of the guard?
Enter Captain.
Captain, what means this mob at the very gates of the
Palace?
Capt.
Your majesty, it is no common mob. The people are assembled in a multitude of many thousands.
Att.
Sire, I delivered your command to the prince. His highness bids me dutifully say to your Majesty, that he prays you to give him his liberty. Here he would be no freer than in his chamber; and so he refuses to quit it.
King.
Besieged in our palace by our people, and our son
claiming to be absolved from our rule. Be it so. Tell Prince
Tancred he shall be free to do, go, speak, act, as he in his
ripe wisdom shall choose.
[Exit Attendant.]
Captain, throw
open the portals of the Palace to the populace, and bid the
new sovereign take possession.
[Exit Captain.]
Francisco,
we will teach you in Sicily things that you would never have
learnt in Spain.
Rog.
I am glad, sire, to profit so much by travel. Spain is a country wherein one learns never a new thing.
Re-Enter Captain.
Capt.
The people cry, “Long life to the King,” and are dispersing.
Enter Tancred, and kneels before the King.
King.
Nay, Tancred, rise. For a man so free as you now are, this obeisance is unbecoming.
Tanc.
[Rising.]
I pray your Majesty, mock me not. More
than ever I am your dutiful son and subject. The liberty
you have given me I would use within the sacred bounds of
right; seeking through it to fill more fruitfully the measures
of my life; wronging no man, least of all your Majesty.
[He
advances to Rosalie, and taking her hand, says to Orontio,
have I your permission?
[Orontio
with dignity and feeling, acquiesces without words. Tancred
then returns with Rosalie to the King, and, both kneeling
before him, says:]
Father, we ask thy benediction.
King.
[With emotion.]
my blessing on you both. Rise up,
my daughter.
[They rise.]
Tanc.
To crown this day's great happiness, I have one more petition to your majesty.
King.
'Tis granted ere 't is named.
Tanc.
The recall of my friend, Count Roger.
King.
Herald, proclaim the pardon and recall from banishment of Count Roger of Susa.
Tanc.
First, I crave of your Majesty and these gentlemen forgiveness to the count for any and all wrongs real or imagined up to this hour, by him committed against any one of them.
All.
Granted most fully.
Herald.
Know all men, that by his Majesty's decree—
Rog.
Speak louder; so that should the count happen to be in Germany, he may hear you.
[Exit.
Herald.
Know all men, that by his Majesty's decree, Count Roger of Susa is hereby recalled from banishment.
King.
Orontio—my son choosing for himself has chosen so well—trust the discretion of your niece to do the same.
Oron.
Sire, I have ever found her trustworthy, and readily yield her this liberty.
King.
Come, Blanche; your husband shall be a duke: name him.
Blan.
Your Majesty does not jest?
Nay, I pledge to you my royal word.
Blan.
Father—
Oron.
Good Blanche, choose: thy choice shall be mine.
Blan.
I choose Francisco.
King, Orontio, and Others.
The clown!
Blan.
The same.
King.
He is Duke Francisco.
Rog.
[Running in.]
Here I am, your Majesty.
[Kneels.]
[As the King gazes at him, he takes off the fool's cap.]
King and Others.
Count Roger!
Rog.
Who will not rise till he has your Majesty's forgiveness.
King.
That Count Roger shall never have: it is for the
duke. Rise up, Duke Roger.
[Roger rises.]
Who but yourself
could have played us so shrewd a trick?
Rog.
What king but your Majesty would have forgiven it so generously?
King.
This ends very like a comedy, where, albeit the young have their own way, things turn out happily. Well, Orontio, let us take revenge, in the wish, that their children may do as well.
Rog.
We all have cause to be satisfied:—your Majesty, in that the prince your son is shown to have a heart that beats healthily, a manly will—the prime virtue in a ruler—and qualities that win the love of the people, wherein lies the strength of a kingdom;—you, Orontio, that having given a life of high labor to the service of the crown, the crown shall pass to the heirs of your blood, and thus your fidelity as parent
Osm.
I like the phrases “herd” and “yokedom.”
Rog.
I perceive you are already comforted;—for you,
Count Manfred, think of the maidens of Palermo, and to what
rejoicing they will give themselves when you return to them
unmarried;—for me, my tongue, though, as you perceive, not
tied by modesty, has no craft to speak my contentment.—It
remains but that you be satisfied;
[to the Audience.]
Has waked your better thought,
And then illumed it with the ray
In the calm glow of beauty wrought.
It is the Poet's hallowed part,
So regally to speak the truth,
That it shall stir the ready heart,
Like morning sunbeam sleeping youth.
His peerless office is, to enrich
The mind with its own beauties,
Tuning its chords to the high pitch
Of sweet ideal duties.
[Exeunt.
| Comedies | |