University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A spacious apartment. Enter Hughobert and Urston.
Hugh.
(speaking with angry gesticulation as he enters).
I feed and clothe these drones, and in return
They cheat, deceive, abuse me; nay, belike,
Laugh in their sleeve the while. By their advice,
This cursed tournay I proclaim'd; for still
They puff'd me up with praises of my son—
His grace, his skill in arms, his horsemanship—
Count Falkenstein to him was but a clown—
And so in Orra's eyes to give him honour,
Full surely did I think—I'll hang them all:
I'll starve them in a dungeon shut from light:
I'll heap my boards no more with dainty fare
To feed false flatterers.

Urst.
That indeed were wise:
But art thou sure, when men shall speak the truth,
That thou wilt feed them for it? I but hinted
In gentle words to thee, that Glottenbal
Was praised with partial or affected zeal,
And thou receiv'dst it angrily.

Hugh.
Ay, true indeed: but thou didst speak of him
As one bereft of all capacity.
Now though, God wot! I look on his defects
With no blind love, and even in my ire
Will sometimes call him fool; yet ne'ertheless,
He still has parts and talents, though obscur'd
By some untoward failings.—Heaven be praised!
He wants not strength at least and well turn'd limbs,
Had they but taught him how to use them. Knaves!
They have neglected him. Enter Glottenbal, who draws back on seeing his father.

Advance, young sir: art thou afraid of me,
That thus thou shrinkest like a skulking thief
To make disgrace the more apparent on thee?

Glot.
Yes, call it then disgrace, or what you please;
Had not my lance's point somewhat awry
Glanced on his shield—

Hugh.
E'en so; I doubt it not;
Thy lance's point, and every thing about thee
Hath glanced awry. Go, rid my house, I say,
Of all those feasting flatterers that deceive thee;
They harbour here no more: dismiss them quickly.

Glot.
Do it yourself, my lord; you are, I trow,
Angry enough to do it sharply.

Hugh.
(turning to Urston).
Faith!
He gibes me fairly here; there's reason in't;
Fools speak not thus. (To Glottenbal.)
Go to ! if I am angry,
Thou art a graceless son to tell me so.

Glot.
Have you not bid me still to speak the truth?

Hugh.
(to Urston).
Again thou hearst he makes an apt reply.

Urst.
He wants not words.

Hugh.
Nor meaning neither, father. Enter Eleanora.

Well, dame; where hast thou been?

El.
I came from Orra.

Hugh.
Hast thou been pleading in our son's excuse?
And how did she receive it?

El.
I tried to do it, but her present humour
Is jest and merriment. She is behind me,
Stopping to stroke a hound, that in the corridor
Came to her fawningly to be caress'd.

Glot.
(listening).
Ay, she is coming; light and quick her steps;
So sound they when her spirits are unruly:
But I am bold; she shall not mock me now. Enter Orra, tripping gaily, and playing with the folds of her scarf.

Methinks you trip it briskly, gentle dame.

Orra.
Does it offend you, noble knight?

Glot.
Go to!
I know your meaning. Wherefore smile you so?

Orra.
Because, good sooth! with tired and aching sides
I have not power to laugh.

Glot.
Full well I know why thou so merry art.
Thou thinkst of him to whom thou gav'st that sprig
Of hopeful green, his rusty casque to grace,
While at thy feet his honour'd glave he laid.

Orra.
Nay, rather say, of him, who at my feet,
From his proud courser's back, more gallantly
Laid his most precious self: then stole away,
Through modesty, unthank'd, nor left behind
Of all his gear that flutter'd in the dust,
Or glove, or band, or fragment of torn hose,
For dear remembrance-sake, that in my sleeve
I might have placed it. O! thou wrongst me much,
To think my merriment a ref'rence hath
To any one but him.

(Laughing.)
El.
Nay, Orra; these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter,
Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind,
As it has low'r'd of late, so keenly cast,
Unsuited seem and strange.

Orra.
O nothing strange, my gentle Eleanora!
Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast,
Winging the air beneath some murky cloud
In the sunn'd glimpses of a stormy day,
Shiver in silv'ry brightness:
Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash
In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path
Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake:
Or lonely tower, from its brown mass of woods,
Give to the parting of a wintry sun
One hasty glance in mockery of the night
Closing in darkness round it? — Gentle friend!
Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday,
And may be so to-morrow.

Glot.
And wherefore art thou sad, unless it is
From thine own wayward humour? Other dames,
Were they so courted, would be gay and happy.

Orra.
Wayward it needs must be, since I am sad
When such perfection woos me.
Pray, good Glottenbal,
How didst thou learn with such a wondrous grace
So high in air to toss thine armed heels,
And clutch with outspread hands the slipp'ry sand?
I was the more amaz'd at thy dexterity,
As this, of all thy many gallant feats
Before-hand promised, most modestly
Thou didst forbear to mention.

Glot.
Gibe away!
I care not for thy gibing. With fair lists,
And no black arts against me—

Hugh.
(advancing angrily from the bottom of the stage to Glottenbal).
Hold thy peace!
(To Orra.)
And, madam, be at least somewhat restrain'd
In your unruly humour.

Orra.
Pardon, my lord; I knew not you were near me.
My humour is unruly; with your leave,
I will retire till I have curb'd it better.
(To Eleanora.)
I would not lose your company, sweet countess.

El.
We'll go together, then.

[Exeunt Orra and Eleanora. Manet Hughobert; who paces angrily about the stage, while Glottenbal stands on the front, thumping his legs with his sheathed rapier.
Hugh.
There is no striving with a forward girl,
Nor pushing on a fool. My harass'd life
Day after day more irksome grows. Curs'd bane!
I'll toil no more for this untoward match.

Enter Rudigere, stealing behind, and listening.
Rud.
You are disturb'd, my lord.

Hugh.
What, is it thou? I am disturb'd in sooth.

Rud.
Ay, Orra has been here; and some light words
Of girlish levity have mov'd you. How!
Toil for this match no more! What else remains,
If this should be abandon'd, noble Aldenberg,
That can be worth your toil?

Hugh.
I'll match the cub elsewhere.

Rud.
What call ye matching?

Hugh.
Surely for him some other virtuous maid
Of high descent, though not so richly dower'd,
May be obtain'd.

Rud.
Within your walls, perhaps,
Some waiting gentlewoman, who perchance
May be some fifty generations back
Descended from a king, he will himself
Ere long obtain, without your aid, my lord.

Hugh.
Thou mak'st me mad! the dolt! the senseless dolt!
What can I do for him? I cannot force
A noble maid entrusted to my care:
I, the sole guardian of her helpless youth!

Rud.
That were indeed unfit; but there are means
To make her yield consent.

Hugh.
Then by my faith, good friend, I'll call thee wizard,
If thou canst find them out. What means already,
Short of compulsion, have we left untried?
And now the term of my authority
Wears to its close.

Rud.
I know it well; and therefore powerful means,
And of quick operation, must be sought.

Hugh.
Speak plainly to me.

Rud.
I've watch'd her long.
I've seen her cheek, flush'd with the rosy glow
Of jocund spirits, deadly pale become
At tale of nightly sprite or apparition,
Such as all hear, 'tis true, with greedy ears,
Saying, “Saints save us!” but forget as quickly.
I've marked her long; she has with all her shrewdness
And playful merriment, a gloomy fancy,
That broods within itself on fearful things.

Hugh.
And what doth this avail us?

Rud.
Hear me out.
Your ancient castle in the Suabian forest
Hath, as too well you know, belonging to it,
Or false or true, frightful reports. There hold her
Strictly confin'd in sombre banishment;
And doubt not but she will, ere long, full gladly
Her freedom purchase at the price you name.

Hugh.
On what pretence can I confine her there?
It were most odious.

Rud.
Can pretence be wanting?
Has she not favour shown to Theobald,
Who in your neighbourhood, with his sworn friend
The Banneret of Basle, suspiciously
Prolongs his stay? A poor and paltry count,
Unmect to match with her. And want ye then
A reason for removing her with speed
To some remoter quarter? Out upon it!
You are too scrupulous.

Hugh.
Thy scheme is good, but cruel.

[Glottenbal has been drawing nearer to them, and attending to the last part of their discourse.
Glot.
O much I like it, dearly wicked Rudigere!
She then will turn her mind to other thoughts
Than scornful gibes at me.

Hugh.
I to her father swore I would protect her:
I must fulfil his will.

Rud.
And, in that will, her father did desire
She might be match'd with this your only son:
Therefore you're firmly bound all means to use
That may the end attain.

Hugh.
Walk forth with me, we'll talk of this at large.

[Exeunt Hugh. and Rud. Manet Glottenbal, who comes forward from the bottom of the stage with the action of a knight advancing to the charge.
Glot.
Yes, thus it is; I have the sleight o't now;
And were the combat yet to come, I'd show them
I'm not a whit behind the bravest knight,
Cross luck excepted.

Enter Maurice.
Maur.
My lord, indulge us of your courtesy.

Glot.
In what, I pray?

Maur.
Did not Fernando tell you?
We are all met within our social bower;
And I have wager'd on your head, that none
But you alone, within the count's domains,
Can to the bottom drain the chased horn.
Come do not linger here when glory calls you.

Glot.
Thinkst thou that Theobald could drink so stoutly?

Maur.
He, paltry chief! he herds with sober burghers;
A goblet, half its size, would conquer him.

[Exeunt.