University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE Runnamede.
King John, Nobles, and Courtiers.
John.
Shall I resign the sceptre of my sires,
And give the haughty Barons leave to reign?
No! Perish all before that fatal hour.
The majesty of Kings I will sustain,
And be a monarch, while I am a man.
[His Ambassador returns.
What from the Barons?

Ambassador.
I have search'd their soul,
And to their passions spoke; but spoke in vain.
Haughty and high, like victors from the field,
They speak in thunder, raise the eye to heaven,
And tread with giant steps.

John.
So bold and fierce!
Are not my veteran and victorious troops
Superior to a military mob
That never saw a camp?

Ambassador.
Superior far.
But yet their spirit's high. No terms of truce,
No composition will they now accept.

John.
Is not the leader of their army slain?

Ambassador.
Yes: But a braver general succeeds,
The noblest name that Britain now can boast,
The gallant Elvine.

John.
Thou hast nam'd a hero.

Ambassador.

[Trumpets.
John.
The time will teach us: Hark! the Barons come.

Enter Messenger.
My liege, the trumpets of the host of England.

John
, to his Minister.
Receive the Barons.

[He retires into the Royal Tent.
Enter Elvine, Albemarle, Archbishop, and Barons.
Baron.
Darker than the storm
The Monarch frown'd, as he could shake the earth
And move the kingdoms with his scepter'd hand.
He does not deign to hear us.

Elvine.
He shall hear us.
Loud as the trumpet that awakes the dead
His people's voice shall thunder in his ears.

King John's Minister.
Barons, the sacred Majesty of England,
Still watching for the people's weal, demands
Why you have brought your forces to the field?
Why you've unsheath'd the sword of civil rage?
Against the brother raised the brother's hand,
And arm'd the son against the father's life?

Elvine.
Compell'd by dire necessity, at last,
We draw the sword: We draw it for ourselves:
We draw it for our country, for our children,
For every Briton down thro' every age.

Ambassador.
And do you rise with rash rebellious zeal
To wrest the sceptre from your rightful prince,
The delegate of heaven?

Elvine.
Long live the King,
Our rightful prince! But let the Monarch know,
That for his subjects, not himself, he reigns.
Let Monarchs ne'er forget, that first the throne
Rose in the camp; the Captain was the King;
He wore the laurel as his only crown,
And sway'd the sceptre when he drew his sword.

Ambassador.
And has a Monarch not his rights?

Baron.
He has.
Even for the rights of majesty, we rise.

Ambassador.
Do subjects thus address their sovereign Lord?

Baron.
'Tis not to thee, but to the King, we come.
Nor come we suppliants at the throne to kneel.
We beg not favours; we demand our rights:
Rights ancient; indefeasible; divine:
We come to treat, the Barons with the Prince,
The host of England with the royal host.

Ambassador.
Averse to draw the sword, averse to shed
His people's blood, our gracious Sovereign deigns
An hour of audience to his Barons bold.
Whatever suits the dignity of Kings
The King will grant; your real grievances
The royal ear is open to receive,
The royal hand is stretched to redress.

[The royal tent opens.
King John
, Descending from his throne.
What do my people from their King require?

Elvine.
My sovereign liege, the nobles of the land,
And all your faithful subjects, humbly greet
Your gracious Majesty, who hast vouchsafed
To hear their grievances: If we at last
Find grace and favour in our sovereign's sight,
Our joy will be complete; the civil sword
Will then be sheath'd; Britannia rest in peace;
The King be glorious, and the people free.

John.
What are the grievances that need redress?
Have I e'er wrong'd you? What are your petitions?

Archbishop.
The antient Peers and Barons of the realm,
The Reverend Fathers of the Holy Church,
The hoary-headed Counsellors of State,
And ministers of law, in council met,
With one consent adopt the plan of rights
Which our forefathers have delivered down,
A sacred charge, and ratified with blood;
A plan which guards the freedom of the isle,
Which shields the subject, and enthrones the King.

John.
My Lord, it suits not with your holy function
To rise in arms against your lawful prince,
Who might remove the mitre from your head.

Archbishop.
Then he should mark the helmet in its place.

John.
Is not the priest the minister of peace?

Archbishop.
The priest of Jesus is the friend of man.

John.
And does the friend of man in horrid arms
Let loose the wrath of war, and shake the land
With dire commotion?

Archbishop.
If I judge aright,
From such commotions revolutions rise,
And still will rise, congenial to the isle.
Tho' Britain's Genius slumber in the calm,
He rears his front to the congenial storm.
The voice of freedom's not a still small voice,
'Tis in the fire, the thunder, and the storm,
The Goddess Liberty delights to dwell.
If rightly I foresee Britannia's fate,
The hour of peril is the Halcyon hour;
The shock of parties brings her best repose;
Like her wild waves, when working in a storm,
That foam and roar, and mingle earth and heaven,
Yet guard the island which they seem to shake.

Elvine.
Most gracious sovereign! let me interpose.
Look to the host in yonder camp array'd!
In such a cause the sword was never drawn:
And never did the chivalry of England
Arm in such majesty; or pitch their tents
In such a field: No faction for themselves,
But England arming in the cause of freedom.
No vassal train attending on their Lord,
But yeomen, knights, and all the noble youth.
Lo! thousands press on thousands to the field!
From every cloud of dust an army comes;
The nation's on its march—

John.
Unfold your claims.
What does this charter to my subjects grant?

Elvine
[Presenting it to him.
Our antient rights and liberties derived
Down from Great Alfred thro' the Saxon line,
Confirm'd and seal'd by Edward the Confessor.

John
, [Perusing it in silence.
Your rights! your liberties! This is rebellion.
Presumptuous men! why do you not demand
My kingdom too?

Elvine.
We are not foes to Kings,
O King of England! have not stretched forth
A rebel hand to overset the throne,
Or of one jewel rob the British crown.
Thine is the kingdom; may it long be thine!
'Tis liberty we ask; 'tis liberty,
The kingdom of the people. Lo! the rights
Our fathers have bequeathed us. Lo! the rights
Which we bequeath to ages yet unborn.

John.
What rights do you, or did your fathers claim,
But what a King can give and take away?

Elvine.
The rights of Britons, and the rights of men,
Which never king did give, and never king
Can take away. What, if a tyrant prince
May rule at will, and lord it o'er the land,
Where's the grand charter of the human kind?
Where the high birthright of the brave? and where
The majesty of man?

John.
My ancestor,
William the Norman, won the British crown
By dint of conquest. How did you obtain
These rights of your's?

Barons
, [Drawing their swords.
By these we gained our rights.
With these we will defend them.

John.
Come you thus
To dash rebellion in the sacred face
Of sovereignty, and kneeling at the throne
Conspire against the King?

Elvine.
May not the King
Conspire against the people?

John.
Kings may err;
But where's the power superior to the prince?

Elvine.
The King of England is the first of men:
Yet there's a power above the King, the laws,
Which, to the Monarch, as their subject, say,
“Thus far, no farther, does thy power extend.”

John.
At whose tribunal can a King appear?

Elvine.
At the tribunal of the kingdom.

John.
Ha!
Before whose majesty can he be brought?

Elvine.
Before the majesty of all the people.

John.
The voice of Kings alone should speak of Kings.

Elvine.
It is not mine with monarchs to contend.
Our cause is brief. The nation's up in arms.
The sword is drawn. This day decides our fate.
'Tis liberty, or death.

John.
Have you resolved
To shed the blood of England, or to save?

Elvine.
Prepared for peace, prepared for war, we stand.
Yon camp obeys the signal of their chief,
And, at the motion of my lifted hand,
Ten thousand swords will lighten in the field.
My arm is stretched forth, and, if I draw
The sword, I draw it to be sheath'd no more.

John
, [After a pause.
Reluctant still to risk my people's life,
Or shed their blood, I stand. Read your petitions.
Whate'er the laws require, the King will give.

Archbishop
, [Holding Magna Charta.

John.
'Tis well, 'tis well.
What does your purpose aim at?

Archbishop.
To revive
Our antient liberties; to found anew
An empire of the laws; restore the rights
Our ancestors from age to age enjoyed;
To settle England on a solid base,
The land of freedom; firm upon his throne
To make the Sovereign of the British isle
The greatest monarch of the greatest people.

John.
Deliver the particulars of your Charter.

Archbishop.
Let every Briton, as his mind, be free.
His person safe, his property secure;
His house as sacred as the fane of heaven;
Watching, unseen, his ever open door;
Watching the realm, the spirit of the laws.
His fate determined by the rules of right,
His voice enacted in the common voice
And general suffrage of th'assembled realm.
No hand invisible to write his doom;
No demon starting at the midnight hour,
To draw his curtain, or to drag him down
To mansions of despair. Wide to the world
Disclose the secrets of the prison walls,
And bid the groanings of the dungeon strike
The public ear. Inviolable preserve
The sacred shield that covers all the land,
The heaven-conferred palladium of the isle,
To Britain's sons, the judgment of their peers.
On these great pillars, freedom of the mind,
Freedom of speech, and freedom of the pen,
For ever changing, yet for ever sure,
The base of Britain rests.

John.
These are the laws
Of the Confessor, and to these I give
A free, a full, and sovereign consent.
But, while the common foe approaches nigh,
Such a consent would seem th'effect of fear,
Or trick of policy. Let us unite,
And join our forces for the hour of war;
The foe dispers'd, your charter shall be seal'd.

Elvine.
Prompted by duty we have drawn the sword
To save our country; the same sword we draw
To guard our King: In every common cause
Britons will join against their native foes,
And still the people in the King confide.

John.
United now, both armies bend their march
To meet the Dauphin. None so fit I know
[To Elvine.
To lead the war as you, illustrious youth.
The hour of evening bids the trumpet sound.

Albemarle and Elvine.
Albemarle.
My noble kinsman, hail! I knew thee not.
Beneath my roof, and with my daughter bred,
Thou wast a son! Alas! at thought of thee
Reproach knocks at my heart. Canst thou forgive?
I need not ask, for thou art brave, my son.
When we had wrong'd you deeply, sent of heaven,
You came the better genius of the land,
To save your country.

Elvine.
Clad in arms, I came
To do my duty.

Albemarle.
You have saved the land.
Your country, grateful to the sons of fame,
Will charge herself with your illustrious meed.
But, Elvine, how shall ever I repay
The love and friendship you have shewn to me?

Elvine.
There's one reward—but 'tis too much for man,
My highest hope, the treasure of my life—
All that my heart beats for beneath the sun
'Tis yours to give, my Lord.

Albemarle.
Name it, my son.

Elvine.
The race of honour I have early run:
I've liv'd to glory, I would live to love.
Your daughter, fair Elvina,—in the days
Of youth I loved her.—Were that matchless maid—

Albemarle.
Think of another choice.—Alas! my son!
This is the pang that parents only feel!

[aside.
Elvine.
To me there is no other choice. Ah! where,
Where shall I find the rose of innocence,
Youth in the flower, or beauty in the bloom,
As in that peerless maid? Is she not fair?
Is she not perfect in the prime of years,
The spring of beauty, and the morn of youth?

Albemarle.
My son! the secret cannot be concealed.
I have no daughter—worthy of thy arms.—

Elvine.
What? God of heaven! Elvina? Is she not
The grace and glory of the female kind,
As angels radiant and as angels pure?

Albemarle.
I thought so once.

Elvine.
Defend me, powers of heaven!
What has she done?—

Albemarle.
Done? she has done a deed
That never can be nam'd—has rent my heart—

Elvine.
O! she has been belied. I know her well.
She is not to be judg'd by common rules;
She left the crowd of womankind below;
She walk'd aloft in a peculiar path,
And sprung to excellence—

Albemarle.
Alas! my son,
It cannot be concealed. The burst of fate
Will come upon thee like the bolt of heaven.
I cannot utter—
[delivering a letter.
These—these will convey
A horrid tale—But words cannot express
A father's anguish for a child that's lost.—

[He goes out.
Elvine
alone reads the letter.