University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Scene I.

A Room in the Palace.
The King; to him enter Malgodin.
Mal.

My lord! here's news from the camp at last, and great ones. I think Lady Fortune laughs at our little frailties, and takes side with us. The hot-brained brothers and the confederate Swedes have been defeated—and by whom, think you? Ethel of Felborg. Laugh at it, it is true: and he hath taken the Ingelwalds prisoners; and oh, it is more laughable yet, hath condemned them to death, and by this time they are dead, and by his means. Here's news for a man to get fat upon, if his merriment spoil not his digestion; Ethel hath done them to death.

King.

Hath Felborg defeated the Swedes?

Mal.

Why, 'tis a very wise fellow; he could not marry the girl now. What should he get by joining the Swedes, being a Christian, and not of a revengeful temper? What should he do, but make favour with you? Tush! he'll bring you back the girl in his hand. Oh, the ingenuity and great good temper of the devil!

King.

She's dead, Malgodin.

Mal.

But your majesty must not trust this Felborg: 'tis these forgiving spirits, these mean pocketers of insult, that bear a long memory; I never smiled on a man yet that struck me, but I gave him a dig in the dark, ay and a deep one. And the girl, again, your majesty! blushing scarlet, and praying forgiveness for running away like a fool; she shall go on her knees, which is a pretty attitude in so fair a woman.

King.

Be silent, you damned beast! I say she's dead.

Mal.

(aside.)
What's in the wind now? Bah! he frightens me as a tame cat does when she turns to bite: he can wound me, but I am his master as much as ten times his wickedness can make me. Magister scelerum, that's your true degree, and a good working distinction. He walks to and fro like a hungry bear.—Why is your majesty so restless and moody? Are these not good news?

King.

I tell thee, Malgodin, I saw her last night.

Mal.

Whom did your majesty see?

King.

Violenzia.

Mal.

In the flesh?

King.

No; in the spirit.

Mal.

A very poor exchange in a woman.

King.
Peace, you devil!
About the middle of the night she came,
Or nearer morning, as I lay awake.
My curtain shook, and on my spirit came
A sense of something savouring of death;
At which my hair 'gan rise, and all my body
Was bathed in anxious dew: yet could I not
Take off my eyes from where the curtain moved;
Which parting, showed me Violenzia,
Who with straight staring eyeballs uninformed
Looked into vacancy; on her white side,
Whiter than her torn robe, she grasped her hand,
And through the parted fingers I could see
A sword's deep stab with red and gaping edges.
A year I gazed at her, until my blood,
All thronged into my drawn suspended heart,
Burst with a great leap back into my veins,
And then I fainted.

Mal.
'Twas a pretty dream.

King.
I have a dagger in my belt. Beware!
It was no dream.

Enter Attendant.
Att.
A messenger from the army, so please your Majesty,
Would speak with you.

Mal.
Let him come in at once.

[Exit Attendant.
Enter Messenger.
Mal.
Now, what's the news?

Mess.
O mighty Sovereign—

Mal.
Speak to me, knave. He will not be disturbed.

Mess.
Oh, I must bring my liege unwelcome news
That hangs upon my tongue.

Mal.
Peace, wordy fool!
Tell it in little space.

Mess.
Earl Ingelwald
And his condemned brother did last night
Evade their guards, and, being at liberty,
Fled to the private lodging of their sister,
And slew her sleeping.

Mal.
Is this all?

Mess.
Being taken,
They were this morning executed.

Mal.
Hence!

King.
Nay, stay awhile; I'll hear it over again.
What is't about the high-born Countess Ingelwald?

Mess.
Slain by her angry brothers, gracious liege.

King.
Slain by her brothers with a sword, you say?
They stabbed her in the side?

Mess.
Ay, very like;
I think 'twas in the side.

King.
In the white side.

Mal.
Fellow, be gone!

[Exit Messenger.
King.
Why, then, it is no dream!
Up to this moment I did well believe
It was a painted and fantastic dream.
Why, then, we do not die; and what you taught me
Of the material structure of our being
Is false, and there's a life beyond the grave.
Her face being ghastly, pale, and sorrowful,
Betrays we have affections, and keep memory
Of that which we did here. Oh, what remembrances
Shall I there feed upon! If she, an angel,
Wore a sad face in memory of her faults,
What inextinguishable dreadful pangs
Shall I not be condemned to! Is there no help?
No, not a whit! Why let it be and come,
I cannot alter it.

Mal.

Not unless you could go back into your longclothes and be born again, as the righteous are.

King.
I'll picture you my hell. Thus shall I sit,
Frozen to stone, yet more than sensible;
And all affections I have ever quenched
Of mild-eyed piety and soft compassion
Shall throng up in my bosom: then shall be brought
Myself, and all the deeds wherein I acted,
And every person that was mixed in them;
And all the mischiefs that I ever did
Shall there be set before me; all the griefs,
The pain, the anguish, and the misery
That ever my misguided will did breed,
Down to remote and finest consequence,
Shall there be shown; and I sit staring on,
Debarred from weeping, while the scene displays
Such sights as would make Pity waste her eyes,
And down the face of Winter draw warm tears.
There shall be played a weeping chamber-scene,
And screams be heard that would have moved the dead;
And there rebellion shall make hasty home
In honest bosoms; and white gleaming swords
Shall, in the hands of brothers, bend their points
Against a sleeping sister; and a king
Shall be portrayed, beating his bosom—thus.

Mal.

A very ingenious and pleasant mode of passing eternity; same, though—same.

King.
This serpent I have nourished in my breast
Is grown so bold he scoffs me to my face,
And I endure it. Why, what should I do,
Were I to kill the only wickedness
That can outmatch my own?

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
More news, my liege.

King.
More news—more grief—more hell!

Enter another Messenger.
Sec. Mess.
Fly, my good lord! an instant flight may save you;
The Earl of Felborg rides against you fast,
And all the army, sworn to do his will,
Follow behind; the cry is all against you:
They will depose you, and he shall be king.
Fly, for your lives!

Mal.
O these forgiving saints!
I think the game is almost played away.
This fool begins to rave too.

Mess.
Haste, my liege!
'Tis more than imminent; they're on my heels.

King.
He comes whose face, being seen in endless hell,
Shall make me mad with vain attempts to die.

Mal.
What boots a flight? I shall be apprehended:
I'll try my knack at managing a Christian.
He that can ride a wild beast may a tame one;
Yet they're mule-mouthed sometimes.—Take heart, my liege.
(Aside)
What a poor slave it is!—Swallow some wine.

King.
(throwing it down.)
What should I want with wine? my mood is cold,
Cold as despair. Enter Ethel, Olave, and Officers.

Who breaks into my presence without leave?
Bent brows, bold eyes, and bonnets unremoved—
Is treason ripe, and so unmannerly?
[Drawing his sword.
Come on, you hateful traitor; I abide you
As I do leprosy.

Eth.
Disarm him, gentlemen;
I do not come to measure swords with him.
You are my prisoner, and for this I charge you,
That you have ruled this country most amiss,
And done foul wrongs and monstrous wickedness,
Whereat heaven aches, and will no more endure it.
For this you shall be tried; and on the morrow
Expect to make your answer.

King.
Who shall try me?

Eth.
(pointing to Malgodin.)
Arrest him for a common malefactor.
If he vent blasphemy, gag him.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

An Anteroom.
A Soldier on guard. Enter Gentlemen.
First Gent.

May we pass in?

Sol.

Ay, sir; it is as open as the day. [Exeunt Gentlemen.

Enter others.
Sec. Gent.

What! it is not over yet?

Sol.

Oh no, sir; they have but just met.

Sec. Gent.

I have ridden twenty miles to see it.

Sol.

Had you come sixty, it had been worth your while. It is the finest spectacle I ever set eyes on. Earl Felborg hath summoned all the judges, and they sit all in a row in their robes; 'tis the finest sight—and the great throne stands empty. The King himself makes answer at the bar.

Sec. Gent.

They say he shall be hung; that's not possible.

Sol.

It is certain—on a gallows a hundred feet high, and Malgodin on a little one beside him.

Third Gent.

I hope it will be big enough to serve; I would not have him 'scape.

Sol.

What, Malgodin? No fear. There's no chance

for him in all the chapter of accidents. If the gallows will not work, they'll stone him to death in the crowd.

Sec. Gent.

Come, I'll go see it. [Exeunt.

Enter others.
Fourth Gent.

What! is the King tried yet?

Sol.

Judgment will pass shortly.

Fourth Gent.

In, gentlemen. We shall have no places. [Exeunt.

Sol.

Nay, I'll not miss it either. I may as well stand inside as out. A guard's small use where all may go in. [Exit.

Scene III.

A great Hall; the Throne standing empty, with the Insignia of Royalty lying on it.
Ten Judges in their robes. The King and Malgodin before them. Ethel surrounded by his Officers, Olave, Cornelius, and Haveloc.
Crier.

Hearken all men,—the court will pronounce its judgment.

Chief Just.
On this Malgodin
We pass the doom of death, so often merited,
That if the strictness of a legal sentence
Could be strained past the pains of simple death,
More had been his; the law admits it not,
Therefore his sentence is no more than death.
Let him be hung upon the common gallows.

Mal.

Well, the gallows is a very creditable ending.

The rack or the wheel had been more so; but the gallows is very creditable. Send his Majesty after me; I shall need such a slave in hell.

King.

Does he mean me? [Trying to rush on.
Malgodin. Guard.
Stand back, sir!

Chief Just.

Carry him off to instant execution.

Mal.

Must I go, gravity? Och! there are hearts here I should like to leave knives in. Well, I have done, and must die. If wickedness work below as well as it doth in this religious world, I'll be a king there.

Eth.

Why do they suffer him to speak?

Mal.

Ah, why? Adieu, master Christian, the devil be with you, good lord Tender-mercies, close count Anti-revenge, that can see a throne empty—and you, justiciary owls, that can find a villain in one that was honest so long as the King's wing covered him. Adieu, young Luxury, king Scamblewit the ghost-seer, that thinks souls are made of matter.—Ha! ha! And good people all, fair faces and rotten hearts, farewell; that is, follow me to hell. You are devil's eggs all. [Exit, guarded. The Judges consult.

Eth.
O God, with what a terrible scope of freedom
Hast thou endowed the ranging wills of men;
Yet they are circled: with untroubled eye
Thou see'st them press upon the farthest verge
From thee and good, their sin thou pitiest,
And of the evil (as we speak) thence springing
Thou shapest good. They dare not judge the King.

Chief Just.
We have considered and well weighed our task,
And find against the King our tongues are dumb;
We dare not call him innocent or guilty;
There is no precedent or form of law
Which doth include his person, and no rule
That circumscribes the freedom of his acts.
We are no more than servants of the law;
Nor dare we stretch our office, which to do
Would be to break the bounds of limited duty,
Wherein we ably serve the intents of justice,
And make confusion give us jurisdiction
In that whereunto we have no appointment.
Let him go free at once.

King.
Why, this is well!
Give me my crown again; those thorns are weak
That would perplex the feet of majesty.
I am not on your level, nor amenable
To mortal jurisdiction.

[He ascends the throne.
Eth.
Then I take up
The burthen of my fate; the end is come
Whereto my steps have drawn me. Look upon me,
Thou that assum'st the port and high aspect
Of kingly dignity. Oh, you are pale!—
Witness, you soldiers who stand round me here,
Whose god is honour; you, great guardians
Of civil honesty, and all good men
Who keep religion chambered in your bosoms,—
I call you all to witness: air and you elements
Whose presence is mortality, and all
Spiritual influences that persuade
Against the breath of time, and move within us
By holy spirited touches; angels, and you
Fine powers whose being is beyond the grave,
And most thou Holy Spirit, whose white hand,
Dipt in the waters of our human heart,
Purifies and persuades us back to God,—
Behold what now I do, and hear my words;
And testify this voice whose hollow tones
Pronounced two brothers' judgments, and these lips
Made marble with the touches of dead love,
And testify a tongue that never lied,
And life that when it saw where justice aimed,
Willingly never strayed—the thing I do,
And doing which I tremble, is not bred
Out of a passionate spirit of revenge,
But out of reverence for the broken law,
And to protect weak spirits from more wrong.
Thou King, that with a fresh triumphant haste
Snatchest again the circle of dominion,
And gatherest up thine old audacity,
Dost thou believe, because thou art outside
The narrow confines of the law's dominion,
The continent of justice holds thee not?
Or that the sceptred dignity of kings
Can sway the even balance in her hand,
Or make the wrong the right, or play with sin;
Or in the opposing substance of stern duty
Find but a dancing shadow? Oh, no, no!
The penalty, like universal heaven,
Clouds every head, and when a king dares err
Beyond the endurance of the patient skies,
God lifts his dreadful eyes to punish it.
Sometimes of sharp revenge he makes his rod,
Using another sin to scourge the first;
And sometimes prompts a tardy diffident spirit,
As he doth mine, to break old sanctioned rules,
And in the obedience of a bidden child
To vindicate his justice, and lay low
The offending brow.

King.
Ay, ay! my time is come.

Eth.
This King, being sick to surfeit with all sin
That lies in luxury and self-indulgence,
And having broke his burthen'd people's hearts,
And let disorders, like rank poisonous weeds,
Spring in the fertile garden of his realm,
Conceived the strained forbearance of grave heaven
Allowed some margin yet. What did he then?
A deed whereat, that such a thing should be,
The heavenly hosts grew pale, and shook in faith,
And the reluctant spirits of the damned
Groaned at their monstrous jubilee; the dead,
Alarmed to think good was no more omnipotent,
Could not abide the silence of their graves,
But with appalled eyes broke forth.

King.
Enough!
It is enough! repeat it not again!
Lest the bright noontide be not ward enough,
And the sad ghosts of the revengeful dead
Walk in the day.
[Covers his eyes.
Tell me she is not there,
Or I will never more undo my eyes,
But from the high meridian of my days
Fall blindfold to the grave.

[The people murmur.
Eth.
What is't you fear?

King.
Away! I do repent me of my sins;
I have done all that you do charge me with,
And coped iniquity with such an act
As makes me sick to think on 't. I submit me
Unto your jurisdiction, and lay down
The insignia of abused royalty:
Pronounce your sentence; I bow down to it;
But oh, be merciful! not present death,
For I have heard no man is so abandoned
But may retrieve his soul before he dies.

Eth.
I thank the grace of Heaven, which moves you thus,
And makes my labour lesser than I thought it;
And after all the struggles of my soul
Shows me the face of God. Your life is spared;
The tears of your repentance have made soft
The edge of punishment; renounce your crown,
With such formality as shall make secure
Against the reassertion of your claim,
And in a private station end your days;
And, oh, may tears and faithful act of duty
Efface the memory of your sins!

King.
Amen!
Into your hand I give my crown; sit thou
Where late I sat so ill: but ere I go
To sue with my washed prayers another throne,
Ethel of Felborg, the most wronged of men,
Forgive my injuries and touch my hand.
The faces of the men that pampered me
And flattered me in all my wickedness
Are turned to frowns; here only I perceive
A countenance of judgment mixed with mercy.
Look, at your feet I fall, and will not rise
Until you pardon me.

Eth.
Rise from the ground.
Heaven judge my soul as I have wiped away
Resentment of all injury you have done me.

King.
I ask for the protection of your soldiers,
And so much wealth as may suffice to bring me
To some far-distant shore; new air, new scenes, new life
Best suit with the new spirit that moves in me.

Eth.
You have your will.—One of you wait on him,
And see him safe from harm.—God give you grace! [Exeunt King, Officer, and Soldiers.
(The people cry)

The Earl of Felborg shall be king!
Long live King Ethel!

Eth.
Ah me!
Thou didst not join that cry; I thank thee, Olave;—
Nor thou, Cornelius, once again a friend.

Cor.
Dost thou so soon forgive thy weak Cornelius?
My lips imprint my heart on this loved hand.

Hav.
Ethel, you mar the greatness of your acts
To clench them with usurped authority;
The throne my royal brother has renounced
Succeeds to me. I lay my claim to it,
And with my sword I will defend my right.

Eth.
Are you so bold, young sir? Give me your hand.
[He leads him to the throne, and puts the crown on his head.
Upon a head stainless and innocent
I lay temptation and a thousand cares.
I do not give it you; it is your right,
Which God forbid I should gainsay: so wear it,
That when you die, good men may weep for you.

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Malgodin, heartless and impenitent,
Hath yielded up his wretched life.

Eth.
'Tis well;
My task is almost ended. Let me kneel.
[He kneels before Haveloc.
My liege, I do you homage. Take my sword;
The work whereto I dedicated it
Is done: henceforth I have no need of it;
The awful wielding of it lies with you.
It is a sacred weapon; handle it so
That it may be a terror to offenders,
And safety to the innocent. Be just.
It is ended and accepted; this is death.
[Music, and cries saluting Haveloc king.
Ethel falls lower to his face.

Hav.
Rise, noble Earl; too long you kneel to us.
What! look to him.

[They raise him up.
Cor.
He swoons.

Ol.
It is no swoon.

Cor.
Stand back from him!—Sweet Ethel, speak to me?
He's dead. Alas, he's dead!

Hav.
So suddenly!

Cor.
This is some damned poisoner!

Ol.
I think not, sire.
He hath of late been tortured with sharp spasms
And pains about the heart, which his physician
Looked grave upon; such pains bode sudden death.

Cor.
He is well dead; indeed, you speak it truly;
His heart was killed before his body was,
By grief and by the faithlessness of friends.

Hav.
O young and heavily tasked! how should I live
That tread from such a death unto a throne?
Truly and fearfully.—Gather him up,
And show him to his soldiers,—many rough cheeks
Shall stain themselves with tears,—and let them bury him
With high observances and mournful state,
Such as become his nobleness. Touch him tenderly.