Scene I.
An anteroom in the court at Nantes.
Enter Walter and a Gentleman of the Court.
Walt.
What! does my lord still hold his own,
handling his honours with so lofty a grace that the best
of them show but as underlings? Does he flaunt it still?
Gent.
Of whom speak you?
Walt.
Good! as if I spake to thee of an earthworm.
Thy envy furnishes thee with a very fitting
semblance of ignorance. It was but of the Seneschal I
spoke; of him whom Fame hath made her foster-child,
and placed so high on the rock of noble reputation,
that having no higher to climb, 'tis marvel he grows
not giddy and falls not;—of him whom thou saidst
thyself, the King was but his gilded speaking-trumpet;
—of my right honorable and much-loved lord, Count
Eliduke of Yveloc. Do you know the man?
Gent.
Eliduke?
Walt.
Even Eliduke.
Gent.
When camest thou to court?
Walt.
I came not—I come now, my spurs hot with
riding.
Gent.
Ha!
Walt.
Ha! and be hanged! art thou turned cliptongue?
Thou wast wont to gossip like a lad among
ladies, and now thou screwest out thy words and makest
marvellous faces like a monkey sick of the heartburn. I
would hear news of the court, and learn what changes
since last I marred the honesty of my behaviour by
showing my face among you, and thou hast only, ‘Ha!’
and ‘Who?’ and ‘How?’ I would I had thee on the
rack.
Gent.
These are my news; mark them. Count
Eliduke has suddenly fallen into the King's disfavour,
who has shown himself as little temperate in his present
anger as in his former favour. The Count is expelled
from his office, stripped of all the King's castles and
honours, and bidden to confine himself within the walls
of his castle at Yveloc until his majesty's further pleasure
be signified.
Walt.
Thou dost but jest with me.
Gent.
Not I. But the main wonder is, that no one
knows the cause of this sudden disaffection of the King,
save those perchance who have had a hand in bringing
it about. Count Eliduke declares himself most
especially ignorant, and would fain clear himself in
open court; or at least hear his accusation; but the
King absolutely forbids him his presence, and protests
he will never see him again; and though he be not
commonly given to stand long by his word, it will need
more time than ordinary to allay the heat of his present
indignation.
Walt.
And Eliduke?—
Gent.
Swears he will be heard, though it cost him
his head.
Walt.
By my sword, he says right, and the King
does his honour an injury to disgrace so noble a gentleman
without a hearing. Does no man plead for him?
Gent.
You are newly come to court with a vengeance.
Do men help their proud friends grown poor?
Walt.
Ay, sir, men do; I see thou wouldst dress
thy tongue, like thy leg, in the fashion of the hour,
and follow the cant of the day that virtue is extinct
among men. For God's sake, man, put not thy heart
in stays, cramp not thy faith in a tight boot; but believe
that there shall be found honour and gratitude
even amongst courtiers. Thou wilt thyself speak for
him.
Gent.
I would gladly, sir, do him any slight service
I could; for he was in his prosperity ever courteous
and well inclined towards me; but speak for him in
open court I may not; I should but lose my own standing,
nor render him any service commensurate to my
own loss.
Walt.
Thou dost well to distrust men; I perceive
now that what I fancied an idle following of fashion
was but a measuring of men by thine own beggarly
rule. Is Lord Roland here?
Gent.
Should he speak for Eliduke?
Walt.
Ay, sir.
Gent.
Ha! ha!
Walt.
Laugh, monkey.
Gent.
They are sworn enemies. They were suitors
both to the same lady, and Eliduke married her, and
worsted him in duel. Should he plead for him?
Walt.
Fitter deed for a noble foe than an envious
friend. I'll to the Audience-hall; if a better tongue
speak for him, good; if not, mine shall be heard. Spare
me your company.
[
Exit
Walter.
Gent.
What a pestiferous, ill-bred, honest ruffian is
this! I think he means to insult me. I would I had
quarrelled with him.
[Exit.
