University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Gate of the Castle.
Enter the Falconer and Ralph bearing two Falcons hooded for the field.
FALCONER.

Now a murrain on thee, Ralph! did I not bid thee to fist
the blank falcon with the bare breast? He, that on our
last day's sport, flew so lusty a flight after the two herons.

Ral.

The bird was full-gorg'd, master; and marvel it
is, that there was one, unfed up, in the mew; for who
would have thought that the king would have been
minded to hawk to day?

Fal.

Who would have thought! there it is now; as
if it became thee, Ralph, to think? No, Ralph, no;
thinking, let me tell thee, hardly becomes thy betters.
I, now, for example, whose style and title on the Chamberlain's
roll stand thus, “His Majesty's first Yeoman
Falconer,” whereas thou writest thyself, or rather they
write for thee, sub, that is to say subaltern, which means
no more than a mere underling. Now mark me, I, as
being thy principal, should be principally entitled to
think; was thinking, as I before noted, any part of our office.

Ral.

Nevertheless thoughts be free, master; and will

come into our brain whether they be in office or not.—
Therefore I cannot help thinking that if one royal brother
had been coffin'd before the other, that is to say instead
of the other, that brother would not have taken his pastime
thus timelessly.

Fal.

Drinking, thou know'st, Ralph, drives care away,
and why may not hawking serve the same good purpose?
However this be, his Majesty being minded to hawk, we,
look you, must be minded to have our matters in readiness.
Therefore cope me that tarsel's talons, and fasten
the lease to his jesses more tightly. Mercy on me, what
bells be these? Silver, sterling silver tho' they be, they
look no better than base pewter; cleanse me them with
the lappit of thy leathern doublet, and that instantly.
Ha! what younker have we here thus fantastically
accoutered?

Ral.

Belike it be some scape-goat from the Danish
flock, for I saw two or three in the like trim, when the
ambassador took his departure.

Enter CURAN. [Drest as a minstrel.]
Cur.
Give you good day, my masters; 'tis my wish
To rest awhile on this same portal bench,
If so no churlish porter would be angry.

Fal.

A smooth-tongued stripling, and withal honestly
featur'd; sit where it listeth thee, for thou seemest, my
pretty boy, to have outrun thy strength.

Cur.
Say rather I've outrun my breath, good falconer;
Give me a moment's pause, and these young legs,
I think, would bear me up a morning's sport
Close at your coursers' heel, nor should your hawks,
What time they darted at their feathered prey,
So fleetly pounce, but I would catch their game
Warm as it fell, or e'er it touch'd the ground.

Fal.

Why, when I was of thy age, stripling, and as
lithe in the joints, I have often verified thy boast, let me
tell thee.

Cur.

Doth the king hawk to day?

Fal.

He is so minded, my fair youth, we are here waiting his forth-coming.

Cur.
Say then, if, to beguile the ling'ring time,
I touch my harp, and chaunt to it a song,
Would it be welcome to thy ear, good falconer?

Fal.

Troth would it, my sweet lad; provided the
burthen of thy song be not too tedious, and that the
measure mar not the sense, as is too often the case with
the new-fangled measures now a days.

Cur.
Fear it not, falconer, it shall be a song
Of which a Northern prince, some ages gone,
Fram'd both the rhymes and music; thou wilt find
From its sad burthen that he woo'd a princess
Of cruel sort, who mock'd his loving suit.

Fal.

There be others besides princesses, youth, who be
such like mockers. I have heretofore met one myself in
no nobler a shape than that of a miller's daughter. Tho'
I was ev'n then in the king's patent service, and as tall
of my inches as thou seest me at present. I will therefore

have a fellow feeling for thy prince, having experienced
Dorcas's cruelty. Ale, however, helpt me to master my
passion, and I prescribe the same remedy to thee, if thou
ever should'st come to years of discretion, and should'st
chance to be in the same plight: for there be ten excellent
qualities in your sound-bodied ale, the first—

Ral.

Nay, master, if thou tellest him what these qualities
be, in the same sermon-like way thou hast often
divided them in my hearing, the king will be here ere
we have the lad's ditty; and my ears tingle for it.

Fal.

Come on then, my dainty minstrel; we will have thy song first.

CURAN
Sings.
SONG OF HAROLD THE VALIANT.

He is supposed to perform to his Harp one or more stanzas of the above song, till interrupted by the entrance of King Edel with Lords attending him to the field. He speaks to one of them entering.]
EDEL.
Go to, go to,
We will not waste one thought upon the Dane.
He goes displeased. Why, be it so; our state
Sits not so loosely on its well-laid base,
That Denmark, let him put his best strength to it,
Can shake its firmness. Said'st thou not their fleet
Were sail'd? whence then is this young minstrel?
He wears the Danish livery.

Lord.
Sir, I know not.

[Curan throws himself at the king's feet.
Cur.
My gracious Liege, for I will call thee mine,
For, if not mine, where may I find another?
Friendless, forlorn, left on a foreign coast,
By those whose ruthless hearts forbid my tongue
To call them countrymen. O sacred Sir,
Take pity on my wretched state; command
Some of your train to find me an employ,
The lowest not too low for present trial,
Till after proof of duty find me friends
May plead, in my behalf, to your dread ear.
Meanwhile I would not rust in idleness,
That bane of youth, and what too soon might dull
The small, yet practised, faculties I boast.

Ed.
Thou talk'st it smoothly, stripling, yet we fear
Thou art some elfish truant, who has dar'd
Thy vassalage throw off, or else, perchance,
For some committed fraud, has fled the stripes
Due to dishonesty.

Cur.
Think not thus harshly,
Great Monarch, of your slave. Know, I was born
Of honest parents, virtuously brought up
In fear of God, and man. My aged father
Doth now in Denmark's court, and in the presence,
Strike the chief harp, first of the minstrel band.
Me to Lord Sewold's train did he promote,
For that his Excellence did much applaud
My growing skill, and gave him cause to hope
Fair Argentile, Prince Curan's destin'd spouse,
Would, if she heard me touch the harp before her,
Make me her minstrel. In this hope I left
My lov'd and loving father. On the sea,
Full sorely was I sick, sick ev'n to death;
And, for remembrance of those piercing pangs
I own I loiter'd ('twas my only crime)
The hindmost, when Lord Sewold parted hence.
Which known, the Earl, with many a rigid menace,
Bade me “seek here those honours from the Saxons,
That he had fail'd to find.” These were his words;
Withal forbidding the remorseful shipmates
To let me mount the vessel. Cruel Dane!
I saw thee hoist thy sails, and call'd for pity;
I saw thy shallop fleetly cut the waves,
And call'd for pity, till my aching eye
Lost sight of the last barque: then on the strand,
Fell I as dead; till youth and nature struggling
Brought back unwelcome life. O gracious King!
Take pity on that helpless minstrel boy,
Who found none from his countrymen.

Ed.
In sooth,
My Lords, this Danish boy doth tell his tale
With such a bold and plain simplicity,
As much persuadeth us he speaks us true.
Hast thou, my boy, good skill in minstrelsy?

Cur.
So, Sire, to say would be too bold a vaunt;
For higher of that noble art I deem
And its try'd mystery, than yet to boast
I had arriv'd at ev'n the midmost pitch
Of music's high perfection.

Fal.

Please you, my Liege, the lad is too modest. If
his fingers went by clock-work they could not wrestle
with the wires more actively, nor, if a skylark roosted in
his throat, could he carol to them more deliciously: he's
the very prince of minstrels.

Ed.
Peace, knave, and mind thy hawks, and not his harp.

Cur.
If it seem good unto my gracious Lord,
I'll run to th' field at his proud courser's side,
And there some moments, ere the game be sprung,
Or at default, make essay of my art
On this slight instrument, striving my best
To sooth his princely ear.

Ed.
Come on then, boy,
We there will try thy skill. My Lords, to horse,
And meet us at the bridge, that spans the mote.
Ourselves at the west postern mean to mount.

[Exeunt severally, Curan following the king.

SCENE II.

A Garden within the walls of the Castle.
Enter ARGENTILE and EDITHA, with Baskets.
EDITHA.
Nay, sweetest mistress, share with me the pains,
If it be pains, amid these beds of fragrance
To cull such buds and blooms, as best deserve
To fill our wicker garners. Therefore came we;
'Twas of your own free choice: you said the task
Would help to chase your sorrows. See, my Princess,
How deep a blush, beyond its red compeers,
This rose has caught from the warm kiss of Phœbus!
That, tho' its neighbour, and as far remov'd
From shade and cold, yet glows not half so crimson.
Is it the fault o' th' sun? No; he, kind suitor,
Makes love to both alike. Perchance, my mistress,
That flower, like some coy maids, makes more ado
Ere it will warm to kindness.

Arg.
Peace, fond babbler!

Ed.
Nay, now I vow, had I so bright a suitor,
That blest me with such gallant visitation,
I'd not do thus, nor turn my pale cheek from him,
But bid him welcome with a buxom blush,
Like this free flower, and thank him for his favours.
Were it not best, what think you?

Arg.
Prithee, peace,
I know thou mean'st to chear me by this prattle?
But 'twill not be—come, let us count our thefts:
We've done, methinks, ev'n robbery enough
On these sweet beds.

Ed.
See here! besides these roses
Are lilies nam'd o'th' vale, which, to my sense,
Fling from their silver bells a daintier perfume,
Than ev'n the rose itself; spic'd fraxinel,
The golden martagon, the pale narcissus,
And flaunting piony; here's lady's slipper,
And lady's mantle too; curl'd columbines,
And harebells blue and white!

Arg.
No, not a month;
[Not regarding her.
But come another day 'twill be a month,
Since my dear father lean'd him on this arm,
And took some slow-drawn paces down this alley;
But he was tir'd full soon, and sat him down
To rest on this same bench; he panted so,
That then I fear'd him dying.

Ed.
Nay, sweet Princess,
Did you not promise me?

Arg.
Indeed I did;
Yet then, in very deed, I little hop'd
I long should keep my word.

Ed.
Think of his years—

Arg.
I know he was full aged, yet some have counted
More years than he; and some have liv'd to see,
What most they wish'd, their daughters given in marriage,
And blest the sacred union.

Ed.
Some, alas!
Have left them sooner, in weak infancy;
Have left them fatherless, nay, in their cradles;
Hurried by death ev'n to their wife's fresh grave,
Who died in child-bed: such was my sad case;
And tho' of gentle, nay, of noble birth,
If nobleness can dwell where riches do not,
Friendless, forlorn, ah! what had I been now,
Had not the Queen your mother's fost'ring care
Pity'd my orphan state?

Arg.
I fear, my friend,
I am to blame, ev'n unto sin to blame,
Arraigning thus the will of Providence.
Yet he, who gave me tears, will let me shed them,
I trust, without a frown. His gift were vain,
Did I not weep.

Ed.
Your royal uncle's care—

Arg.
Is he like Adelbright? will he support
Sad Argentile with half his tenderness?
Thou canst not think it. Thou thyself hast felt
His sterner temper; for when Oswald's son,
The gallant Edwin sued for thee in marriage,
Who but my uncle mar'd your mutual bliss,
And made his father act a tyrant's part?
Alas, thou weep'st! I was to blame in op'ning
A wound, that time had clos'd.

Ed.
And if I weep,
'Tis only that his hapless love for me
Caus'd the brave youth to fly his native realm,
A voluntary exile. To his suit
Thou know'st, my Princess, I demean'd myself
Ever with virgin coyness, as I ought.

Arg.
Thou didst, and therein claim'st thy sexes praise.

Ed.
Gallant as Edwin was, my tongue was able
To interdict his passion; therefore, sure,
I lov'd him not, spite of the rising sighs
That ever meet his mention. Had I lov'd him,
I must have yielded; he was all so worthy
To raise a mutual flame—where then my praise?
But, hush, his father comes! his earnest look
Tells me he means to claim a private audience.
He ill would brook my presence.

Arg.
Thou, poor Editha,
Wilt ev'n as ill brook his! retire thee, then;
Yet stray not out of call.

[Exit Editha.
Enter OSWALD.
Osw.
Your pardon, Princess,
That, quitting forms, I thus abruptly venture—

Arg.
Ah, my good Lord, away with idle forms!
You were my Father's friend, and that secures
A constant welcome to his orphan child.
But why so much disturb'd?

Osw.
Is there not cause?
Has not King Edel done—

Arg.
What, my good Lord?
Till this same hour I never left my chamber.
What has my uncle done?

Osw.
Flouted the Dane,
And sent his Envoy back with blank refusal.

Arg.
'Tis as I thought, not fear'd: yet herein read
A sum of num'rous future wrongs prepar'd
To fall full soon upon my innocent head.

Osw.
Not one, not one, no not the slightest wrong,
While Oswald wields a sword to check its fall.
Have comfort, Princess; you have round your person
A set of Peers, whose perfect loyalty
Will at my call pour out their best heart's blood
In your defence.

Arg.
O Heav'n forefend, my Lord,
That Argentile should be the cause of bloodshed!
Sooner than so, I would resign my throne,
And take a subject's station. Trust me, Earl,
I ne'er was fond of this same pageant state,
And smilingly could quit it.

Osw.
Say not so.
Born to a crown, that crown must grace your head:
And we have powers to give it legal firmness.

Arg.
No, rather let him drive me from his realm
A hapless exile. I am not the first
His arts have forc'd away.

Osw.
I read your meaning.
It was indeed his arts, curst Edel's arts,
That struck the flint on my too fervent nature,
And bade it fire. Stop, ye repentant sighs,
You will not call my darling Edwin back!
Alas! you cannot: to th' extremest verge
Of this wide isle my fruitless search has reach'd:
No, I must ne'er again behold my boy;
He's lost, I fear, for ever.

Arg.
Hope the best;
And promise me, if e'er the youth returns,
He'll have thy full forgiveness.

Osw.
So from Heav'n
May I have precious hope of after pardon,
As now my son has mine!

Arg.
Enough, enough.
Thou shew'st thyself again a tender father;
Therefore I take thee for my loyal friend,
Nay rather for my father. Yes, good Earl,
Thou know'st I want one; thou too want'st a child:
Act then a father's part, and guard my weakness
'Gainst my fear'd uncle's arts. Yet, if he goes
No further than to break my present marriage,
He has my ready pardon: She, who loses
A boon she never yet had learn'd to prize,
Is scarce a loser. Does he wish me still
To live in virgin state? My wishes there
Bear him free company; yet much I fear
Some greater cruelty.

Osw.
To thwart these nuptials
Is more than cruelty; 'tis sacrilege
To Adelbright's just memory—

Arg.
Of this,
My Lord, your prudence must more fitly judge
Than a young maiden's. Therefore, Sir, to you,
And to such peers as were my father's friends,
I trust my honest cause, and will in all
Accord to your sage councils. Honour'd Earl,
Adieu. Come forward, faithful Editha,
And lead me to my chamber.

[Exeunt Argentile and Editha.
Osw.
Remorseless tyrant!
To wrong this pattern of all virgin virtues;
While I have life I will oppose thy malice!

[Exit Oswald.

SCENE III.

Changes to the Gate of the Castle.
Enter King Edel and Lords as returned from Hawking. Curan, Falconer, and Ralph attending.
EDEL.
Beshrew me, Lords, but this same Danish boy
Did give us sweet addition to our sport.
I know not whether most to praise the fleet
Activity, by which, our game in view,
He cours'd the field, and left our fleetest steeds
Lagging behind; or whether, at default,
Perch'd on some land-mark stone, he struck his harp
And caroll'd his soft ditty. By St. Hilda
He is a peerless boy.

Ld.
True, my dread Liege:
And then his dauntless spirit, mixt so meekly
With boyish shamefac'dness! for when your Highness
Did praise his skill, it brought a crimson blush
Fresh to his cheek, that seem'd to call in question
Whether such praise were just, proving by the doubt
His rightful claim to it.

Ed.
True, we noted it;
A merit seldom mark'd in such as ply
The minstrel craft. Come forward, pretty youth,
Take thou these angels. Thou hast pleas'd us well.
My Lord our Chamberlain, have it in charge
This boy be well appointed, in such sort
As fits our cup-bearer. Thus we advance him
Ev'n at the first, and his shall be the blame
If he not gains swift marks of future favour.

Cur.
Low at your feet I fall, my gracious Sov'reign,
And promise true allegiance.

Ed.
Rise, and thank us
By thy fair service. We do hold to-morrow
A high carousal. See that thou attend us
In thy fit weeds, when in our hall we dine,
We and our peers.

[Exeunt Edel and Lords.
Manent CURAN, FALCONER, and RALPH.
Cur.
Why, this is as it should be—
Our good star smiles on us beyond our hopes.
How now, good Master Falconer, why this distance?
What! cap in hand too; prithee, friend, be cover'd.

Fal.

I know better, good Master Cup-bearer, I know
better. When, indeed, the every day sun in yonder sky
shines upon me, I veil myself without ceremony, expecting
no more from him than a scorch'd forehead; but,
when the sun of court favour shines upon me, though as
now, only as it were by reflexion, I doff my cap most
reverently, as thereby hoping for somewhat that may
warm my old heart. As for you, my young Sir, who are
become to-day the minion of dame Fortune, I know not
how thou wilt demean thyself to-morrow; therefore

before to-morrow comes, I will venture to call myself thy
old friend; inasmuch I was thy friend before the King
was, and am withal three years older than his Majesty.

Cur.

I own thee for my friend, and hold thy kindness
In fair memorial.

Fal.

I thank thee. Yet as the good luck, which has
of late befallen thee, may in time help to weaken thy
memory, suffer me to put thee now in mind that, in the
morning when thou camest hither out of breath, desirous
of sitting on yonder bench to rest thee awhile, I call'd
thee pretty youth, and bade thee sit down boldly; thereby,
as I may say, installing thee for a courtier.

Cur.

Thou didst, and for that courteous installation
This angel be thy fee. [Gives him the money.

Fal.

Blessings on thy young heart! had I thought
thou would'st have paid me thus generously, I would
have pull'd off my doublet and made thee a cushion of
it; thou should'st never have been installed on the hard
stone. But I would wish thee also to recollect, that the
very moment thou mad'st offer to give me a touch of thy
minstrelsy, I took thee at thy word. Whereby—

Ral.

Nay, in troth, Master, that thou didst not, but
was minded to interrupt the lad's ditty (I crave your
honour's pardon, for you was but a lad then), yet your
honour well knows he would have told you a long preamble
about the ten virtues in strong ale, which I, who
have heard the old homily a hundred times, and know it
to be as long as one of Father Anselm's, and withal as

unedifying, save when one has the brown pitcher before
one, persuaded him to cease the delivery of. This had I
not done in the very nick of time—

Cur.
Thou didst; and for that friendly office, see,
How this twin angel greets thee.

[Gives Ralph an angel.
Ral.

Aye, that indeed does it, and most angelically
poor Ralph is your liege vassal for ever.

Fal.

Though the knave has, as I may say, robb'd me
of my second merit, neither he nor any man in Dëira
shall of my third; which resteth in this, that I prais'd
thy minstrelsy to the King: and what, though he flouted
me for it? I have known him many a time and oft do so
in the field, and yet nevertheless abide by my council:
Therefore assure thyself, that what I said concerning the
lark's roosting in thy throat did thee no thriftless piece
of service.

Cur.
Whether it did or not, 'twas said in kindness,
And is as such rewarded.

[Gives him another angel.
Fal.

St. Hilda bless thee! There remaineth now
but a fourth merit to remind thee of, which, to say truth,
respecteth myself singly. It is this; that I, being, as thou
seest, an old and true-bred courtier, am wholly void of
one vice, which hath been imputed to our sect for time
immemorial.

Cur.

I pray thee name it.

Fal.

That can I, Master, and with a safe conscience.
—The vice is envy, which, thou knowest, is one of the

seven deadly sins. Now whereas thou art suddenly made
King's cup-bearer, and thereby put over the head of
myself and many a better man, yet do I not envy thee
thine honour; but think verily thou wilt acquit thyself
in that high office better, than ev'n I should myself at
these years.

Cur.

Indeed, and may I credit thee!

Ral.

Nay, Master, here put I in for a share in the
merit. I am younger, and, I trust, more handy than the
Falconer himself, and yet, where the matter of cup-bearing
is concerned, I knock under to your honour's
courtly bearing and gentility. I do in faith.

Cur.
Enough; then share this last bright coin between ye,
And see you drink to my prosperity.
Good friends, farewell.

[Exit Curan.
Ral.

Aye, my Master, that will we do: we'll see the
cann to the bottom, were it as big as Ulphus's horn.

Fal.

Ralph, mark me well, Ralph, this young spendthrift
will be wiser in time. But till that time comes, it
behoves us to drink to the long continuance of so generous
a folly.

[Exeunt Ralph and Falconer.

SCENE IV.

The King's Closet.—EDEL, solus.
Ev'n when we first set eye upon this youth
We thought his face trick'd out by our good stars
To fit our long-meant purpose. He shall wed
Our niece; shall pass on her for Denmark's prince.
His youth, his comeliness, his country too,
Will stamp him very Curan in her heart;
And, married to an alien and a peasant,
Where then will be her royalty? But first
I must dismiss Earl Oswald. He is honest,
And has, what oft is found with honesty,
A hot and credulous spirit, which we found
Easy to practise on to his son's ruin,
Who had that stubborn and rebellious bearing,
We fear'd might after harm us. But in this,
Were we to make the old earl privy to it,
He ne'er would meet our wishes: he shall go
Envoy to Denmark; but my arts will fail me,
If e'er he living lands on Denmark's shore.
What ho! who waits there? is Lord Oswald come?

Enter OSWALD with an USHER.
Ush.
My Liege, the Earl attends.

[Exit Usher.
Ed.
Welcome, good Oswald!
We have a weighty business to impose
On thy allegiance, and, as we do hold
Thy prudence far beyond the vulgar scope,
Resolve in this high point to trust it solely.

Osw.
My Liege, ye do out-rate it.

Ed.
Not a whit.
Believe us, honest Oswald, we have pois'd
Thy merits well, and found them in our balance
Of sterling proof—but to the present business.
Thou know'st already we of late thought fit
To check this alien marriage of our neice,
And thwart the hasty Dane.

Osw.
I do indeed,
And marvel at it much; nay, to speak plain,
(Oswald must speak so, tho' his King's the hearer)
It wounds your brother's memory.

Ed.
Hear our reasons.
We hold it all unsafe, for the realm's weal,
A stranger should come in to lord it here
In right of our young niece; and therefore, Earl,
(Tho' inly did our bowels yearn to break
Our word with our dead brother) yet the good
Of two great kingdoms far o'ercame that scruple.

Osw.
But when the offended majesty of Denmark
Shall arm a fleet—

Ed.
Why, this may be expected;
And though we trust we have sufficient powers
To cope with his best strength, yet would we rather
Prevent all bloodshed; and with this fair aim
We mean to send thee, in all haste, to Denmark,
Our peaceful envoy.

Osw.
Might I bear the Princess
To her expecting spouse, I should with joy
Accept the high commission: such a freight
Will only load my ship with the just price
To buy us peace from Denmark.

Ed.
Tush, old Earl,
The Dane will dread to fight us: let him dare it.
After such truce thy audience there may win,
We shall be well-prepar'd to meet his wrath,
And foil it too.

Osw.
You said you wish'd for peace.

Ed.
I do; if peace and amity, Lord Oswald,
May be procur'd at a much cheaper rate,
Than one of our two kingdoms.

Osw.
Our two kingdoms!
Then, Argentile, thy half is lost already.

[Aside.
Ed.
Why muse ye thus, my Lord, we did expect
More free acceptance of that honour'd charge,
Which we so freely offer'd.

Osw.
Age, my Liege,
Makes me unfit—

Ed.
Say rather that thy age
Makes thee most fit; for reverence hangs on age,
And suits our envoy. Lords of greener years
Would sue for the great charge, but on thyself
Our choice has fixt; if thou disclaim'st the task,
Thou art not what I deem'd thee. For the moment
I leave thee to resolve what likes thee best,
Whether to meet thy Sov'reign's will with duty,
Or force him think, what he would wish unthought,
Thou'rt the Dane's friend not his: within an hour
Give me thy final and assenting answer.

[Exit Edel.
Osw.
It is too plain; he does but wish my absence,
To pass some cruel fraud on Argentile;
And give himself, by that fair maid's mishap,
More right, or seeming right, in his two kingdoms.
Two kingdoms, tyrant!—One is more than due,
But patience—I must act awhile the part
My soul disdains, must seem to accept his charge—
Yes, I will be his envoy to the Dane;
But only to convey that treasure with me
Is the Dane's plighted due. Now to the Princess,
To win her to my purpose: she must hence,
And quickly; for, if here she dares to wait,
Death, or still worse than death, must be her fate.

[Exit Oswald.