 | Henry the Second, King of England |  |
31
ACT. IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Abbot.Abbot.
Thus to be shipwreck'd in the sight of Harbor,
Just when I'd perfected my great Design,
Throws up the Gall with that impetuous force,
I burn, I rave, I shall grow made with Anger.
Had she been murder'd, what a Scene had follow'd!
What wild Distractions, and ungovern'd Rage!
All would have been embroil'd. Should now the King
(As possibly he may) find out the drift,
Ruin, Eternal Ruin were my Doom.
I was afraid of Bertrard; but he's firm,
Fix'd to my Cause, and yielding to my Will.
Let me consider.—Ha! the King!
Enter King, Verulam (as from France) Sussex, Aumerle, Guards, &c.
King.
Are all his Vows of Duty, Loyalty,
Obedience come to this; Surely the Clime's Infected,
The Witchcraft of Rebellion taints the Air,
And all who breath it suck the foul pollution.
Abbo.
Sure there is mischief towards, ha! Verulam!
Nay, then my Friends in France have match'd my wishes.
Veru.
The whole design was form'd long since in Hell;
It was so black, the Instruments so many,
We scarce had Landed, when the factious People,
Headed by their Officious, Fauning Guides,
With Universal Acclamations welcom'd
His safe Arrival; Every one outvied
Which should be foremost in his Adoration:
They look'd upon him as one sent from Heav'n
To be their Patron, their Deliverer.
King.
Go on.
Veru.
Still as we past through any Town or Village,
The Windows, Tops of Houses swarm'd with people
To gaze upon the entrance of their Deity.
King.
The usual method of the Giddy Rabble.
32
When we had reach'd the City, at the Gates
A Train of sleek, smooth, beauteous Youths appear'd,
The Ganimedes and Hylasses o'th' Covents
Array'd like Angels all in purest white:
These past; a numerous Host of Lazy Singing-men
Chanted out Io Peans, in his praise:
Behind, in Ranks, the Jolly well-fed Brothers
O'th' several Orders, in their Sacred Vestments,
The Banners of their Founders still display'd;
Trudg'd heavily along; each lolling on his Fellow
With Reverend Waddle, blowing as they stalk'd,
Puff'd out his Name, and bless'd the good young Prince.
King.
Ten thousand Devils tear 'em for't.
Abbot.
Ten thousand Angels hug 'em for't.
Veru.
Thus it continued till we gain'd the Palace,
Where a new Scene begins; The Crouds of Gentry!
That waited there to offer Fealty,
Wou'd poze Arithmetick to sum 'em up.
These offer'd him the Crown.
King.
How now!
Abbot.
Why, now 'tis as it should be.
Veru.
He thankfully accepted the kind offer,
Embrac'd 'em, spoke 'em fair, and promis'd fairer;
Nay, at their parting, servilely attended 'em,
Even to the outward Gate of the throng'd Court.
Abbot.
Bless'd be the Priests that taught him so much breeding.
Veru.
The Ceremonious day now being ended,
And he withdrawn to rest, I thought it time
To speak my Soul, and let him know his Error.
King.
How did he bear it from you?
Veru.
Knitting his Brows, with a Majestick Frown
He told me, I was Sawcy, Malepert,
And border'd upon Treason; He was of Age,
Nor did he want a Tutor; Bad me be gone
On forfeit of my Life: Then laying his hand
Upon his Sword, he let these words escape:
Think'st thou I will refuse the gift of Heav'n,
And what the People court me to possess?
No: I'll assert my Right against the World:
And here shake off all curbing tyes of Blood.
King.
No more;
He shall be whip'd into his Duty, Verulam,
What! dare me to the Combat, Insolent Boy;
He shall not find I am enervated,
Let all the Ports immediately be stop'd.
[To Sussex.
Set up the Royal Standard, Summon all into the Field,
'Tis I, your King, Command it.
[To Aumerle.
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Scourge from the Earth this Pest of Human kind,
And be a Terror to the Universe.
But haste, see all things got in readiness,
I will set forth to morrow.
Verul.
I fly, my Lord.
[Exeunt all but the King and Abbot.
King.
Oh Rosamond!
The Wrongs that I have done thee, cry aloud;
The horrid Vows and fearful Imprecations
By which I won thy Virtue to compliance,
Have made Appeal to a more righteous Judge,
And fall in Showrs of Vengeance on my Head.
Abbot.
This is above my Wishes. Up, Dissimulation;
Sweet Flattery, with all thy Pomp attend my words,
That I may gain belief.
[Seems to weep.
King.
How! can he weep? are Miracles not ceas'd?
Abbot.
Who can forbear, that shall behold you thus
Loaded with Grief, o'er-press'd with Miseries?
The most invet'rate Heathen to our Faith,
The Stranger to Humanity or Pity,
Would grow a Statue, turn a Niobe,
If he but knew how much the King was injur'd.
King.
Oh wondrous Conversion!
Abbot.
I came to gratulate the Victory
O'er your unlawful Love,
And thought to find you bright, serene and gay,
Shining with Lustre, crown'd with a Reward;
Not all the Noble Virtues of your Soul
Hurry'd into a Storm. Oh dismal sight!
King.
Am I so alter'd then from what I was?
Look, view me well; I find no alteration;
My Pulse keeps time, my Vigor is the same,
And I am now as much the King as ever.
Abbot.
Your looks are still August, your Person Sacred:
Yet, when the Sun is mantled up in Clouds,
And day shuts in before the wonted Hour:
People are struck with Wonder and Amazement,
With Fear observe, and doubt the dreadful Change.
King.
You would infer, it seems, I am ecclips'd:
But as that Sun you mention'd does regain
From dismal Darkness a more splendid Light;
Ev'n so will I, spight o'th' United Power
Of Hell and Earth, conspir'd against my Crown,
Though my rash Son heads their Rebellious Rage.
Abbot.
What says my Lord?
Sure the sweet Prince is innocent.
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Thou seem'st a Stranger to't.
Abbot:
I heard that Mutiny was on the Wing,
And Treason Lacquey'd it on ev'ry side;
But that your Son, Him whom you made so Great,
Should side with 'em, is most Unnatural.
King.
He is proclaim'd their King, and I a Tyrant.
Abbot.
Indeed! Is't possible! O piercing Sound!
My trembling Knees give way, they shake with Horror.
King.
If this bare Tale can pierce thy flinty Breast,
Call up Remorse and pity to those Eyes;
If thou should'st know the Burden of my Life,
'Twould sink thee quick into eternal Darkness.
Abbot.
Alas! I pity you! Indeed I do.
Heav'n knows how much I grieve for your Afflictions.
King.
Do I not stand accurs'd at Rome for Murther,
Though all good Men do know my Innocence?
My Son Rebels, and an unnat'ral War is at the door,
While wild Distraction reigns within my Palace.
But these I could endure:
But, Oh! the loss of Rosamond! that's Mortal.
Abbot.
Indeed, my Lord, it is a mighty Trial,
Thus to cast off the lovely beauteous Creature,
Whose Soul was fraught with Dotage on your Person,
Whose all of Study was your Royal Pleasure.
King.
Has Beauties Power then influenc'd thy Breast?
Abbot.
I would not soil that Beauty with Detraction;
Nay, I must pity, though I dare not help her;
Could almost wish I were of Temporal Kind,
To shew how I would strive to serve you both.
King.
Oh charitable Father! now thou work'st me;
Preach on this Subject, I will ever listen:
My Soul as to an Oracle shall trust,
And with implicit Faith I'll ever serve thee.
Abbot.
As I'm a Man, I must confess
I do admire the Sex, though I'm deny'd 'em;
Pity the tender Fair, when in distress,
And fancy, if I had ever Lov'd,
'Twould have destroy'd me to have lost the Charmer:
But Rosamond, indeed, she is a wonder;
The Single Fondling of the Universe:
Her Sexes envy, and the Pride of Heav'n.
King.
Wonder on, wonder still.
Abbot.
I said, the Fondling of the Universe.
The senceless Babe, when in its Nurses Arms
He sees her pass, springs forward towards the fair one,
Leaves the lov'd Breast to gaze upon her Face:
Nay, even the wither'd, Antiquated Sire,
35
If he beholds her, feels new Sap shoot up,
His shrivell'd Veins inlarge, and Strength comes on;
Forgets his Props, and Limps to worship her.
King.
Art thou my Rival, ha?
Abbot.
Who? I my Lord!
King.
None but a Lover could describe her thus;
And yet thy praise falls short of her perfection:
Thou yet hast only touch'd her outward Charms;
But, Oh! the inward beauties of the Mind,
The temper of her Soul, sure none can match:
So mild a Nature, and so soft a Frame,
So sweet a Spirit, so secure from Anger,
That even Oppression scarce can taint her calmness:
One would believe Patience and Courtesy
Had left the rest o'th' World, and center'd there.
Abbot.
Yet after all these Graces which you've nam'd,
To leave her, 'tis a matchless Virtue sure.
King.
Ha! Leave her said'st thou? Is't possible?
Speak Father, and be merciful a little,
'Tis not a dreadful Sin to Love this Angel?
Heav'n should be worship'd.
Abbot.
You are Married.
King.
Curse on the horrid Yoak.
Abbot.
And yet—
King.
What? Oh, Comfort Priest, and I'll resign my Crown;
The Church shall govern all.
[Sure that will bribe thee].
Aside.
Abbot.
'Twas a strange Marriage; She only was Divorc'd
When you espouz'd her,—She partly was anothers.
King.
Nay, I did never think our Marriage Lawful;
What think you Holy Sir?
Abbot.
I dare not Answer.
King.
Nay, do not leave me here thus doubting.
Abbot.
'Tis not an Office suiting with my Function,
To sow a difference.—
King.
No, make up one, where Love is most concern'd.
Abbot.
Ask a Civilian.
King.
Ha!
Abbot.
What have I said! alas, I meant not so.—
King,
Nay, fly not back, By Heav'n I've caught thy words,
And hold 'em fast in memory: I will have ease immediately.
Abbot.
Have patience, Sir, let not my folly—
King.
In vain you urge; By Heav'n I'll know how far
I can be free:
Why have I cherish'd up this Plague so long?
I coupled with a fury when I Married,
Compar'd to Rosamond, that All of sweetness:
36
Suck'd from the Mother Gall instead of Milk;
They thirst for Blood, and hunger after Life,
But I will shake 'em from me, yes, I will:
This storm once past, all shall be hush and calm.
Abbot.
I have out-gone the Rules of Holy Orders;
My over Zeal made me forget my self.
King.
Lose not the Reputation you have gain'd,
Nor strive to alter what I have decreed,
She shall be mine; the Goddess shall be mine,
Tho' half the Isle fall as a Sacrifice.
Spight of all Laws both Human and Divine,
I'll win my Love, or perish at her Shrine.
[Ex. King.
Abbot.
He's caught:
The great Leviathan is caught;
Now let him Roar, and fill the Air with clamour,
Spout up an Ocean, lash himself with Rage,
And Foam with smart of his deep piercing Wounds.
Oh! thou dear Manes of my Patron Becket,
If what I'm doing's worthy in thy Eye,
Smile on thy Vassal toyling for Revenge.
Enter Queen and Attendants.
Queen.
He is abus'd, some Villain has abus'd him,
His Temper's easie as the Down of Turtles,
Fitter for Dallyance and a Lady's Chamber,
Than the rude hardships of destructive War.
What say you, Father, is he not impos'd on?
Some Parasite, some most officious Knave,
Whose Trade of Life is falshood, has been busy
About the King, and whisper'd his undoing.
Abbot.
I wish I knew the Villain for your sake;
But there's no hopes appearing,
A fearful Combination holds against us,
Of many Heads and Hands in this design,
All which are Rivitted to our Destruction.
Queen.
Do'st thou suspect my Son?
Abbot.
Not for the World.
I have examin'd thorowly the Cause
Of this Disorder, and I find, or else
My Judgment errs, His being well receiv'd
By the kind Normans was the source of all:
And envious Verulam, who was impos'd
Over the Prince to snub him like a School-boy.
37
What says the Father. Was he planted with him
To overlook, and govern all his Actions?
Abbot.
So the King design'd;
But the Brave Youth finding his insolence,
Discharg'd his Diligence, sent him fretting home,
Fraught with Complaints, for being justly slighted;
Nor has he wanted to incense the King,
With a feign'd Tale, larded with suppositions,
That he aspires the Soveraign Power of Rule.
Queen.
But sure, good Father, this is not all,
There's some more powerful Cause;
Why else this noise of Drums, and sound of Trumpets?
This hurry and confusion in the Court?
Abbot.
Ah, Madam, there's a Mystery in that
Which few Men knows, and those can't prevent it.
Queen.
Do not conceal a tittle from me.
Abbot.
The Subject will offend you.
Queen.
Nothing but silence can.
Abbot.
Pray give me leave humbly to ask a Question,
How parted you this Morning?
Queen.
With all the kindness, tenderness imaginable;
The long Arrears of Love are fully pay'd,
And I suspect no more.
Abbot.
Then I have done.
Queen.
'Tis possible you thought
He long'd and hanker'd after Rosamond;
No: His Hearts mine, he gave me full possession;
And I'll secure none shall invade the Trust.
Abbot.
What pity 'tis such Goodness should be wrong'd!
Queen.
Ha! saidst thou?
Abbot.
Nothing.
Queen,
Nay, there is something in thee which must out:
Abbot.
Why, would you know what would destroy your rest?
Queen.
I charge thee by the Sanction of thy Robe
Speak, tell me quickly, think'st thou he is false?
Abbot.
Where did you leave him?
Queen.
Going to Councel.
Abbot.
He by this, no doubt, has both received and given good
Advice.
Queen.
Of whom? To whom?
Abbot.
Of Rosamond, his Minion,
Who sits enthron'd, and shining like a Goddess
Within the Glorious Mansion he has built
At Woodstock: There uncontroul'd she dictates,
And he as readily obeys the Task.
38
She chose that place for her Retirement.
Abb.
A Cloister had been fitter.
There with strict Discipline she might be humble;
But here she Riots in Excess.
Queen.
That I should spare her Life.
Abb.
It was good Nature, but not Policy.
I cannot speak for Tears when I behold you,
[Weeps.
To think what Villanies are hatch'd against you;
You and your Royal Issue are undone,
Unless the Gods be kind.
Queen.
Is't possible!
Abb.
All of us are Embarqu'd are Embarqu'd in one Calamity;
The Church, as well as you, must bear her share.
Queen.
How! Where? In what?
Abb.
He cannot introduce his Innovation,
His curst design of Modelling the Church,
Without Divorcing you.
Queen.
Why dost thou fear it?
Abb.
If he returns Victorious, as well he may,
Since the Designs his own, then comes the Tryal,
And Rosamond succeeds Queen Eleanor.
Queen.
I shiver with the dreadful apprehension;
But sure, how e'r I suffer, he will not wrong his Children.
Abb.
He that will do the one, may do the other,
While his Lust flames high:
You see already, what a specious means
He takes, to blast their growing Reputation.
Come, let me tell you, that it seems to me
To be the Prelude of their Sacrifice.
Queen.
No, Rosamond, the King, my self, and thee;
Nay, all the World shall perish, e'r that happen.
I shall grow Wild; I feel Distraction pressing:
I'll Stab her instantly.
Abb.
You must not;
'Tis a noisy Death, 'twill make a Clamor
'Mongst the common People, and sully your good Name.
Queen.
Why, would you have her Live?
Abb.
No, by no means.
She's a rank Heretick, deserves to suffer
The worst of Deaths, and feel severest Torments;
Why do I side thus with you else, but to
Inform you how to prevent yours,
And the Churches Fate? 'Twill be a Meritorious Act,
A Glorious Deed, and Heaven must, sure, Applaud,
Its Ministers of Justice.
Queen.
How! Shall she dye then?
Abb.
As Vermin do by Poison:
39
Queen.
But when?
Abb.
Not till to morrow,
When the Kings absence will Assist
The Undertaking.
Queen.
How shall we gain Admission to the Bower?
Abb.
Leave that to me: Bertrard, her Confessor,
Who time from time has been my Tool, my Engine,
Shall be the Instrument to Dole the Bane,
And we, as standers by, behold the Deed.
Queen.
By Heav'n! I'll have the pleasure on't my self;
From my own Hand she shall the Potion Drink,
For being my Rival, 'twill torment her more.
And I will Triumph o'r her sinking Soul,
Disturb her Dying with my Husbands Name,
Plague her with thinking she must leave him mine;
And lest the Poison too much haste should make,
I'll Henry Sing to keep her Pains awake.
[Ex. Queen.
Abb.
And if her Vengeance from its purpose start,
Stars! 'tis your fault, I'm sure I've done my part.
[Ex. Abbot.
Enter King and Rosamond.
King.
Is't possible, that such a cruel Thought
Could ever harbour with my Rosamond?
Did you not see constraint in every part?
The Agony that Nature suffer'd under,
Fearing the Jealousy of an Incensed Queen?
Rosa.
Away.
King.
As one who views his Friend, seiz'd for a Crime
Which he himself was equal Partner in,
He cunningly insinuates to the Croud,
Sides with their Prejudice and Clamors loudest,
Till by degrees he moulds 'em to his purpose,
And, as a Stranger, pitying the Offence,
Flatters their surly Natures to dismiss him:
So I, by seeming to abhor thy Guilt,
Shelter'd my own, and skreen'd thee from her Rage.
Rosa.
You sav'd me from the Rack to Dye by Fire;
Preserv'd me only from her Jealousy,
To suffer by your greater Perjury.
No; I'm convinc'd you never lov'd at all,
Or else so little, you your self scarce knew it.
King.
By Heav'n, I Love thee more than Love can speak;
My Soul's uneasy with the vast excess.
It fain would throw its fondness in thy Bosom:
It languishes with pain to tell its Pleasure.
40
It longs to speak what it can ne'r express.
Desire is over-taken by Desire;
Like Waves they swallow up each other still,
And Wishes, like the Sands, are numberless.
Rosa.
With Words, like these, you first over-power'd my Weakness,
Drew me to base compliance with your Falshood,
To loss of Honour, Kindred, Friends and Fame,
And yet, methought, I never should have miss'd 'em.
I found no want whilst I had Henry's Love,
But wanting that, the World is Barren to me:
Love, like a rough bred Warrior, almost starv'd,
So full was bent on one reviving Meal,
It satiated with greediness, not feeding,
And being in haste forgot its Benefactor.
King.
But Gratitude has met me in the way,
And sent me back to pay my Thanks to Love:
Oh! Pardon then those Errors fear Created,
And let the inward Friendship of my Soul,
Plead for the outward coldness of Behaviour.
Rosa.
Oh Flattering Sex! whose Tongues are at Command
To Conquer still, what e'r their Hearts desire!
Why, why, ye Powers, did you on Man bestow
Such an unbounded sence, to win our fondness,
And yet so little Honour to Indulge it?
His Tongue has Charms equal to his Embraces,
And one is by the other still reliev'd,
That there's no end of Pleasure where he is.
King.
Relentless Creature! Is this Womans usage?
Can that Divinity hear so unmov'd?
Some cursed Fiend has stoln upon thy Sleep,
And chang'd the Nature of my Rosamond.
What is it you could think to ask of me,
But I'd have granted it before 'twas Nam'd?
Wilt thou not speak? Must I begone for ever?
What! Not a look to tell me I may stay?
If thy proud Heart's too stubborn to express it,
Give me a doubtful glance to keep me here.
All! All are shut 'gainst my intreating Prayers!
Farewel then, since there is no glimpse of Comfort.
[Retires.
My Soul's turn'd Woman, I must ask again.
Yet, Rosamond, one Word. She's fix'd!
Oh that some Power would Rivet us for ever
Within each others view,
That she, like me, might have no other Object.
Yet e'r I go, for ever Rosamond—
41
What is it you would have me speak?
King.
Why any thing that will excuse my staying.
Rosa.
I cannot look upon you.
King.
Then turn away, talk to thy self:
Let me but hear thee, if I must not see thee.
Rosa.
Why should you tempt me to believe agen,
Only to load me with a new affliction?
Could I be satisfied—but 'tis impossible,
So we must part; there is no Remedy.
King.
'Tis a sad Truth indeed: Part! 'tis resolv'd!
Alas, I only came to take my leave,
But fain I would have parted Friends with thee,
Because I thought I had no Friend beside.
Rosa.
And could you think parting would make us Friends?
King.
No, but I thought our meeting might.
Rosa.
Then why d'ye talk of parting?
King.
I know not what I talk of; any thing, let us but talk.
Rosa.
Better be silent, sure, than talk of that.
King.
Why must we not then part?
Rosa.
Oh never, Henry! I can hold no longer!
Be false, or faithful, I must love thee ever.
If we must part, be't all upon thy Head!
For thus I am resolv'd to live or dye.
[Embraces.
King.
Then let thy Arms grow round me:
Into thy Soul press mine: Tye 'em so fast,
That one may never stir without the other.
Oh! now my Trial comes. Heart, bear this shock,
And nothing, sure, can hurt thee.
[Aside.
Rosa.
Why d'you tremble?
Your Blood is Summon'd from your Cheeks
By some strange Call; or have I press'd too hard,
And kiss'd it from 'em?
King.
It will not out.
Rosa.
What will not?
King.
Fate has so order'd.
Rosa.
How has Fate order'd? Oh! my Soul boads Ruin!
King.
I'll call it by a gentler Name than parting.
Rosa.
Nothing that's gentle is ally'd to it.
King.
We must separate.
Rosa.
Not when my Arms grow round thee.
King.
My Stars have loos'd 'em.
Rosa.
'Tis false, they clasp thee still.
King.
My Son, in whom I plac'd intire Repose,
Has cast off Duty, and now Heads Rebellion!
The Factious Clergy all applaud the Act!
His Mother knows, but softens the vile Treason!
And if the Current be'nt with speed turn'd off,
42
Rosa.
Let me go with you.
King.
Impossible!
Thy tender Body cannot brook such usage,
As the Necessity of War throws on us.
Rosa.
I'll like a Page attend you where you go,
Run by your side, and Watch your Sleeping hours,
And in the Fight I'll always meet your Danger.
I'll step before you as your Fate approaches,
That when the God of War beholds my daring,
And sees he must through me create his Conquest,
Honour shall find it self out-done by Love,
And blushingly reverse your Destiny.
King.
Oh wondrous Constancy!
Heav'n! Art thou not asham'd to let us want each other?
But we must bear it:
Our present pain will make our future Joy,
And to shew much of Love is much to suffer.
Within this Bower, which purposely I fram'd
For thy security, thou shalt remain;
The Labyrinths conveyance none does know
But Vaughan,
He, and thy Confessor, are all shall wait thee.
Rosa.
Alas, I shall not need 'em.
King.
Why?
Rosa.
Oh! I shall never see thy Face again!
An evil Dream this Morning entertain'd me,
And now it is confirm'd.
King.
Divert those fears, for I shall come again:
I've made a vow to Heav'n, in thy behalf,
And sure 'twill Guard us till it is perform'd.
I'm call'd; once more into thy Arms, and
[Trumpets sound.
Then to War. Farewel.
Rosa.
Nay, let me see thee to the Gates.
Let my fond Eyes the most o'th' Object make:
Oh that they could such a long slumber take,
That I, thy absence, might in sleep beguile,
Then wake to run with a transported smile,
And meet thee at thy last returning Mile.
[Exeunt.
| Henry the Second, King of England | |