University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

The Battlements of the Castle of Cornwall.
Sentinel.
Enter the King.
King.
How goes the sun?

Sent.
Dropping from noon, my liege.

King.
Sure, if my expectation ruled the hours,
It should be nearer midnight. You've seen nothing?

Sent.
Nor heard, my liege. At daybreak they rode out;
Since then I've watched the sun over his height
To where he hangs i' th' west now; all's been still.

King.
By this my fate is known; and yet that's nothing,
Not being known to me. Oh, I am sick!
Suspense is poisonous! How slow the hours go!
Let's think the worst; what's our defence in here, then?

Sent.
Alas, my lord, nothing. All, save some dozen,
Rode to the field.

King.
I knew it. Where's Estreldis?

Enter Estreldis.
Est.
Here, father; listening at the Eagle Tower
I thought I heard the distant tramp of horse
Borne on the wind.

King.
It was thy fancy only.

Sent.
My lord, she's right! I hear it! lay your ear
Close on the cope-stone—so; the sound comes clearer!

King.
What? what? I cannot hear it.

Est. and Sent.
Hush, my lord!
'T has died away.

Est.
Listen!

King.
The heavy moments
Tread as they feared the future. That's ill omened.

Est.
Look! look, my lord! soldiers!

Sent.
They come! they come!

King.
Where? where? I can see nothing.

Est.
Can you not
See on the farthest edge, towards the mountain,
A cloud of dust rolling along the plain?
How fast they ride! Look! now you may discern
The glitter of a spear-head or a shield—
I know not what.

Sent.
She hath a soldier's eye.

King.
I can see nothing! Oh, I can see nothing!

Sent.
Listen! a trumpet!

King.
Now—I see them now!

Est.
Sure, that's a Breton trumpet! Hark! again!

Sent.
It is a note of victory; but, I fear me,
Blown by the enemy.

Est.
Out, owl! thy hooting
Spoils our best hopes. They halt! Look, they dismount!

King.
They are too many; 'tis the enemy.
Their number more than double the poor force
Rode with the Count.

Sent.
Too true.

Est.
That's Eliduke!
With the white on's front—looks like a prisoner!
Oh, we are lost for ever!

King.
Down portcullis!
Look to the gates! Bring me my armour, ho!
To your posts, fellows!

Sent.
That's the old time of it!
We'll beat them from the walls yet; or, if not,
We'll die like men, and then we shall sleep quietly.

King.
Blow, Bertram! blow a blast that shall deny
A single terror shakes us! blow, I say!

Enter, below the walls, Eliduke, with many Prisoners; the Chief bearing a white feather in his helmet.
Eli.
My lord, d' you take 's for foes,
That with such swift prevention you bar up
Our looked-for entry, and confound the air
With your shrill blast of war? We come to say
Your cause hath conquered, and the sword that galled you,
Cropping your bud of wished tranquillity,
We have sheathed in shame and loss, and lay't before you.
Cast up your gates! for in our hands we bring you
Safety and peace, looking through Victory's eyes.

Est.
It is the Count that speaks!

King.
Undo the doors! We will go forth to meet him.

[Exeunt from above.
Eli.
Blanchespee!
Where's the boy gone? Walter!

Enter King, Estreldis, and Attendants below.
King.
My lord, most welcome,—
As welcome as our new-seized lives can make you,
Won from the threatened entering of death!
For when we saw your numbers, that now show
Only excess of glory, we misdeemed
The enemy had prevailed, and Victory
Levelled her arm against you; so we stood
Hopeless, yet fixed to prove the end, and gather
An antidote to death in constancy
Of dying well and nobly; but your coming,
Like the bright aspect of the April sun,
Has shamed our winter terrors, and lit up
Our black despair into a day of joy.

Est.
Oh, take our thanks!

King.
And deem them, my good lord,
Only the handsel of some better token
Our gratitude intends you.

Eli.
Royal sir,
You overpay my service with your thanks.

King.
Shame not yourself with painted modesty
That wear the true complexion of desert.
With a free hand you spread the seed of danger,
Venturing your life against uncounted odds,
And it hath grown a golden crop of safety,
Which you have reaped for me, and I must thank you.
You have set me free, and with an iron hand
Unlocked the dungeon of my discontent,
And led him forth to death. Your prisoners
Show more in number than the keepers of them;
And in their black dejection is set off
The splendour of your triumph.

Eli.
Again, my lord,—
Although you argue me to show in this
Only an ill-feigned trashy modesty,
Which by my faith I love not, putting back
Your commendation with a wishful hand
To make it flow the stronger,—I must tell you
You overrate my service; and the foe,
Who showed no less i' th' field than soldier-like,
Gallant and brave, might challenge me of claiming
More than my due, if I should seek to hide
Fortune was with us wholly, and on them
Her hand shook ominous.

Captive Prince.
You make me speak,
Though silence best becomes me. Fortune not,
But our own hasty and presumptuous hearts,
Mine the most hot, showed us the face of ruin.
For you—I know not where you learnt your art—
You are keener carvers on the battle-field
Than yet I ever looked on. Where's the boy
In whose right hand a nimble death sat shaking,
The swift descent of which taught grizzled veterans
The unknown taste of fear? Or was't some god
Enamoured of this lady, whose sweet aspect
Shames my rough wooing, that put on this shape
To cast a mortal rival?

Eli.
You say true;
'Twas Blanchespee. Never more gallant spirit
Shook danger by the hand, or steady courage
Showed itself cased in such a tender frame.
One time the day hung doubtful, and our men,
Dashed by their petty number, sent their eyes
Into their neighbours' faces, there to read
If any thought of flying. Then came Harry,
Clipping his black horse with his moulded thighs.
He bit his scarlet lip, and his young brow
Showed like Apollo angry. “Charge!” he cried;
And made such fierce invasion on the foe
That they forgot their 'vantage, and fell back.
Twice he redeemed my life, pushing himself
Between my breast and a most imminent death.
When last I saw him,
I was hemmed in by the enemy, and some hand
(Unmatched for boldness, sure) had snatched away
More than my life, my favour; which when he saw
Borne vauntingly away, he closed his heels,
And through the centre of the enemy,
Whose angry thick-set ranks, shook by confusion,
Waved to and fro like meadow grass i' the wind,
Dashed to the rescue,—a most gallant sight!
At the next charge they broke, and little doubt
He brought my glove away. I am impatient
To take it from his hand. Where's Blanchespee?
Not hurt, I hope?

Soldier.
My lord, in likelihood
He lingered with the horses.

Eli.
Like enough.

King
(to the captive Prince).
See, my lord,
How black a face of shame looks sadly on you,
Because your cause was bad! Captivity,
Being temporal, to the true soul and noble,
Whose cause is with the milky hand of Peace
To stay the mailed inroad of Oppression,
Is as a cordial or sweet bed of slumber
To the outwearied frame, which in the morning
Rises refreshed; but to Ambition's minions
A double dungeon, being himself a gaoler
Most tyrannous and cruel to his slaves;
And those they call good fortunes are but strings,
Golden indeed, but therefore the more binding,
With which he ties them closer to his cause.
You that disdained the fostering kindly arms
Of your good nurse Content, and brake away,
Must now endure the rod of Discontent,—
A sharp and angry master, who shall teach you
Aggression is inglorious, though oft wrapped
By the fond tongues of men in the stript garb
Of real Glory, she the while left naked.

Capt. Prince.
I have learned it, sir, already; so quick a spring
Your just rebuke has made within my soul,
Fresh ploughed and furrowed by discomfiture.
Take back your olden confines; add to that
What you think meet for ransom. I'll be sworn,
Having regained my freedom, never more
With the rough hand of war to bruise your land.

King.
Follow me in, where we shall frame conditions.

[During the above, Eliduke and Estreldis have been conversing apart.
Eli.
Sweet, I'll not fail thee;
I will but put this cumbrous harness off,
And seek your eyes again.

Est.
Delay not long!

[Exeunt King, captive Prince, Est., &c.
[The low note of a trumpet is heard. Enter Soldiers bearing the body of Blanchespee, grasping in one hand his sword, in the other Estreldis' white glove. They lay him at the feet of Eliduke. Walter follows.
Eli.
He is not dead?

Walt.
Oh, dead indeed, my lord!

Eli.
Astonishment
With her cold finger freezes up my tears!

Walt.
He was hedged in by the enemy, and struck down,
Even as he clutched your glove, by twenty swords.
He was the youngest soldier in the field,
And add to that the noblest; pardon me,
Because I wet your triumph with these tears.

Eli.
Do you melt, Walter? O man, stand away!
Me it becomes alone to weep at this,
That am sole cause of it. Stand, stand away!
What, dead, boy? Look! my glove grasped in his hand!
O lady, lady, lady! your dear love
Was bought too dearly! I have paid for it
The irredeemable jewel of a life
Nameless in worth; and never gloomy Dis
Will give the price again into my hands!
Look how he smiles on death! I dare not kiss him,
Lest, at the touching of his murderer,
These countless stabs should from their swollen lips
Belch crimson accusation. Dost thou reject
My falling tears? Look how they roll away
From his pale cheek, and lend a mimic life
To his glazed eye, as if he wept to think
His dearest friend should be his murderer;
Or, like a worthless gamester that does match
His friend's estate against a little stake,
Esteem his life of no more worth than set it
Against this idle favour! O dear boy!

Soldier.
Look how he shakes.

Soldier.
I never saw him
So deeply moved before.

Walt.
Oh, give me too
A share in this! he was the gallant'st boy
That ever yet struck steel into a steed!

Eli.
Oh, I do well to mourn,
And with a flow of sorrow fill my breast!
Oh, I do well to mourn, and wash his wounds
With easy tears!—who shall believe them true?
It is this damned girl whose eye was forged
To drag me down to hell! Boy, knit thy brow,
For it was I that slew thee! Look, he frowns!
It was my lie that set thy path with death,
And flung thee, like a guiltless sacrifice,
Upon thine enemies' points! O damned passion!
Hear me, O Heaven!—upon my bended knees
I now renounce this girl! May all the plagues
Most poisonous in their nature and most foul
That ever sprang upon the flesh of man
Eat my soft bones alive, and my dear soul,
Framed with new sense most keen and delicate,
Suffer strange torments in the world to come,
If ever from this time—I dare not swear it!
Walter, stand up! Before to-morrow's sun
Reddens the West, we must away to Bretagne.
Take the boy up, and for the girl Estreldis,
Henceforth I'll hold her hateful to my soul.
Stand back!
[To the Soldiers.
Ha! what d'ye say? why d'ye look on me?

[To Walter.
Walt.
Sir, I said nothing.

Eli.
Death, you said I slew him!

Walt.
You said so, and not I.

Eli.
Why, then I lied!
Because this hot-brained boy, in idle show
And vanity of valour,—emulation
And callow courage,—cast his life away,
Shall I be called in question? Get thee gone
To Brittany! tell them that I am coming
Upon thy heels, and that the boy is dead!
Say, if thou wilt, I slew him.

Walt.
I not think so;
But if you follow me so close, my lord,
What need of my announcement?

Eli.
'Tis my will,
Which do, and do not dally. I'll not play
The raven to go home and croak this news
Into his sister's ears.

Walt.
You play the tyrant
To make me do it, then. Well, sir, I'll go.

[Exit.
Eli.
Take up the boy! Death only's conqueror.
Gently, oh, gently! Bury the glove with him!
I dare not touch it! Oh, what a world of mischief
Lies hid in little error! Go before!