University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

—Dusk: a Glade of the New Forest. Enter from the shade the King, Gilbert of Clare, Walter Tirel, William of Breteuil, and Attendants.
Rufus.
My horse dead in the hunt; and you dismount!
It was an ugly omen; we will leave
His carcase in the forest: men will say
His rider next will fall, a merry jest!

Breteuil.
My liege, I pray you put away this mood;
I am pursued by a fell lunatic,
A strange distempered man, who dogs my steps
Importunate as sinner for his shrift;
And all his burden—“Woe, woe to the king
In the thick shade:—it is the seat of woe—
The leaves drop poison on him; bid him seek
His safety in the hall of Winchester.”
And oft as I rebuke him he grows wan,
As if with fearful prophecies withheld;
His silence so appalling me I turn
And desperately ravage on his thought,
Which yielded dumbs me with its ghastliness.
His utterances keep no steady pace;
They flit and flicker as a spirit's form
Checked and recurring. Give the omen heed.

Tirel.
I've snapt my bow-string, sure our sport is crost.

Clare.
It's growing dun, and these accursèd leaves
Thicken the texture of the dark. Our path
Is broken into bog; unless we chance
Upon some peasant tramping through the gorse
To his embowerèd cot, we shall keep watch
Till season of these apparitions 'rise.

Rufus.
Tush, Gilbert; you're too often on your knees:
These taxes make men superstitious;
Extortion is unsettling to the brain.
At cost of a few harmless idiots
We'll fill our c—c—o—offers . ...
Gilbert, you are dull,
You cannot grasp my huge ambition;
In kingship I have yet my spurs to win.
What, king of England, Scotland's overlord!
Robert is penniless; I'll buy his lands
From these pinched peasants; I require more coast,
More land, more races under sovereignty.
I covet; and defy the great command
To earth's horizon: my rapacity
Knocks at the very gates of Rome itself.
I'll not be baulked.

Breteuil.
Oh, vaunt at Westminster;
But here there is miasma in the air;
'Tis not a spot for blasphemy.

Rufus.
Let's lure
Our lord archbishop down to bless the place;
And while he makes it wholesome, may the pest
Of a marsh-fever blast him!
It grows dark.
The busy twilight 's weaving bushes now,
And all we know of Malwood's vicinage
Is that the forest girds it; and the trees
[Enter Beowulf.]
Here multiply about us. In a word,
I'm hungry, gentlemen; I'd drink the health
Of this wood-genius that is dogging me
In a fair flagon.

Clare.
Yonder! Curb your mouth.
[Beowulf disappears
Did you not see a monster?

Tirel.
Hollow-eyed,
Ghostly about the temples, terrible.
[Aside.]
Heaven will send instruments to punish him,
If he thus fronts audaciously the threat
Of these dire portents. [Aloud.]
Let us to our prayers;
Hell's habitants are rousing from their sleep.

Rufus.
Our prayers? You shall say grace before we dine;
Starving, my lips shall never trudge to Heaven.
[Re-enter Beowulf.]
Let's question yonder spectre in the mist.
A burly shade!

Tirel.
He'll trap us to our death.
I'll back to horse.

Rufus.
My gallant followers!

Breteuil.
We ne'er have been aghasted on the field;
When God draws shapes upon the air, no eye
Can look upon the doomful images.

Clare.
It is a fresco from the wall of hell
To fright us to repentance.

Rufus
[approaching Beowulf].
Eyeless knave,
Look toward me with your knees; I am your king.

Tirel.
He's taller than a man; he's stalking close.

Breteuil.
Now I discern it is some blinded hind,
With treason lurking in the hollowed cells
Of his orbs' cavities. Keep watch on him.

[Standing near Beowulf with a whip.
Beowulf.
You are my king? I dare you strike at me.
You're out a-hunting?

Rufus.
I don't trap my game;
You're not for royal sport who cannot run.
Come now, mine honest yeoman, I'll forgive
That ancient treason that hath cost thy sight,
And re-instate thee in my royal love,
So thou wilt snuff the track to Malwood lodge.

Beowulf
[goes a little apart].
It must be here: your voice has lit the torch
Of the very moment; yes, it must be here,
Where earth has soaked your curses up like rain
To feed the swelling fibres of your fate.
Here have you planted your malignant sway;
Here have you taught us resignation;
Here are you absolute. [Breteuil with his whip cuts Beowulf's forehead.]
It must be here
Where your vile hand ...

Breteuil.
The king hath struck you not.
I caught my whip across the insolence
Of your audacious brow: leave prophecy
Or I will lop your lifted hand.

Rufus.
Let be:
His fearlessness assuages me; I'm used
To threats of holy men. [To Beowulf.]
Presage your worst.
[Aside.]
I have not cringed to Anselm; here's a power
I would not grapple with; it's like the town
My limbs shook at the siege of ... just a fit.
[Enter Purkis.]
Here is another, and a merrier fiend.
How now? wilt fright us?

Purkis
[to Beowulf].
You old torment, come!
What has the moon to say to you, i' faith?
Will you not home till curfew? [To Attendants.]
Used to be
A bell at the little church; they cut its tongue
At time of the great clearing; doesn't pay,
This mutilation, makes us all confused
To have to look about for eyes and hands.
One needs one's senses pat. [To Beowulf.]
Old lumber-brain,
The frogs are croaking; I must haul you home.

Rufus.
Stay! As I am a knight, my merry knave,
Your voice hath something of the lantern in 't
And promises good guidance. Jovial churl,
Your king is tangled in his forest-boughs;
Release him from his toils: direct his train
The nearest way to Malwood.

Purkis
[to Attendants].
Keep the trees
Well to the left; the lodge is on the height.
[To King.]
My liege, this is my father; he is old;
And though the dark's indifferent to his eyes,
He's open to the chill. By your good leave
I'll take him off to roost.

[Purkis retires with Beowulf.
Rufus.
My mother's soul,
He's a rare son! This filial reverence
Shall be rewarded. [To Attendants.]
Do you know this knave?

Attendants.
Purkis, the charcoal-burner.

Rufus.
Let him own
His bit of blasted ground: he's duteous.
[To Attendants.]
Convey our pleasure to the churl. I'd fear
I tell you, gentlemen, to wrong a piece
Of so sweet filial courtesy: let's on.
I've laid the spectres;—nay, that is the moon
Smiling benignant on us.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

—Enter St. Calais, conning a parchment, and at intervals writing.
St. Calais.
William is Cæsar of our island-world:
This must be emphasized; the Scots expel
His proffered king, and Wales triumphantly
Throws down his barrier-castles. 'Tis the hour
When faith is feeble to enforce a creed.
The king is Emperor, though evidence
Err in defect, and to refuse a Pope
Is his prerogative. [Enter Robert of Meulan and Flambard conversing.]
Anselm shall bow.
Abjure his Urban, or resign the staff
I would receive submissive. [Looking up as he perceives Robert of Meulan and Flambard.]
Think ye not
Our king doth suffer loss of dignity
From the Archbishop's scruple? He remains
Unconsecrated till the pallium
From Rome invest him.

Meulan.
We are full of it;
And come to urge you press the just complaint.

Flambard.
The treasury—the famine of the purse
Makes me most secular. A vacant see
Would feed it, if the king were pastoral
In his authority.

Meulan.
Bold prater, peace.

Flambard.
Nay, but my talents are for candlestick,
Not bushel-hiding. I deserve some praise.
Know you how grew your truce with Normandy?
Did I not summon troops,—stout Englishmen,
Each with the money of his maintenance,
Loyal to serve the king beyond the sea,
And at the water's edge dismiss the fools,
Their good bread-money garnered in my hand—
Ten thousand pounds, with which we bribed the French?
You shall give honour to my arguments;
For reason must express necessity
As if she had a choice: it is her art,
And I have learnt it. Money we must have.
Is there not talk of a crusade? May be
We shall buy Normandy, while Robert fights
In Palestine: our king, not covetous,
But of fraternal love and piety
Must pour his crowns down for the holy cause.
This he can do, if Canterbury yield
Her due revènues.

Meulan.
Openly, our aim
Must be devotion to the royal will
In everything. [To St. Calais.]
Now, my lord bishop, come.
You are our spokesman, and must presently
To our rebellious primate read a scroll
From your own lips that clearly shall present
Choice 'twixt submission and stern banishment.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

—Rockingham. A Hall, divided by folded curtains. In the outer chamber, Anselm, Eadmer, Baldwin, and other Monks, Clerks, and Laymen. Within the presence-chamber, the King, Robert of Meulan, other Nobles, and Bishops.
Anselm.
Come forth, ye lords and bishops.—I will stand.
Edmer, my stole is falling; set it right.
Good friend, my thanks.

[Enter from within Bishop William of St. Calais, Bishop Walkelin, Bishop John de Villula, and other Bishops and Nobles.]
Walkelin.
A seat of easy slope.
We're like to be long sitting.

St. Calais.
Peace!—My lord
Of Meulan, to the right there's room.

Anselm.
Attend.
I fain would take from hands pontifical
The woollen scarf, the cross-marked pallium,
That sets its final honour to the rank
And office ye have forced me to assume.
My king denies me, tells me with harsh breath
My wish would snatch his crown, and that my faith
Plighted to him, and mine obedience
To Urban plighted, are as day and night
Opposed beyond all harmony. To sin
Against that faith and this obedience
Were heavy condemnation. But I hope
That you will bring them side by side as friends
And linkèd true associates. I pray
Your help and counsel in my strait; but chief,
My brother bishops, help me of your love,
For you have laid this strange perplexity
Upon my burthened soul in choosing me
To rule your Church.

St. Calais.
You are a man of God,
A lover at the feet of holiness,
Why ask our counsel? But if so you ask,
Throw yourself wholly on your monarch's will,
And we'll essay advice.

De Villula.
But if you plead
A call on God's behalf to thwart the king,
We cannot give you help.

Eadmer
[aside].
The spaniels cringe
As if the air were parting for the lash.
[Looking at Anselm.]
How reverend his face! his raisèd eyes
Are jewels of God's light.

Anselm.
And thus you speak,
Shepherds and princes, and no counsel give
Save as the will of one man shall allow;
Then to the Shepherd and the Prince of all
I turn for aid. I unto Cæsar give
The things of Cæsar; unto God the things
Of God. In what is godly and divine
I to God's Vicar owe obedience;
To what is earthly in the dignity
Of Cæsar I yield reverence, and bow
My vassal-will submissive.

St. Calais.
Hear! His speech
Is traitorous.

Walkelin.
His words are full of pride.

St. Calais.
His gross disloyalty is worthy death.
[To Anselm.]
We will not bear such message to the king.

Anselm.
Then will I go, for none will speak my words.

Eadmer.
Dear master, I will bear them to the king,
And faithfully uplift them to his ears.

Anselm.
No, Edmer. Of yon lion I've no dread,
Am fearless of his den beyond that bar;
[Pointing to the arras dividing the Hall from the presence-chamber.
And none but I shall enter.

[Passes into the presence-chamber. Curtains drawn back.
Rufus
[aside].
Here he comes!
Now, by the Face of Lucca, this is good.
To Anselm.]
Your answer, father?

Anselm.
I to Cæsar owe
The things of Cæsar; unto God the things
Of God. In what is holy and divine
I to God's Vicar owe obedience;
To what is earthly in the dignity
Of Cæsar I yield reverence, and bow
My vassal-will submissive.

Rufus.
Traitor! b—back!
Thou shalt re—re—return with other words.
[Exit Anselm.
Call in
My lords and bishops.

Meulan.
Hither, to the king!

[They go into the presence. The curtain falls.
Eadmer.
Here is a seat.

Anselm.
I'll lean against the wall.—
I am a stranger!

Eadmer.
Master, though I bear
An English name, and have an English face,
In thee I have a part.

Anselm.
Thou hast indeed.
My life is like a book before thine eyes;
But, Edmer, there are times when men and things
Are foreign to the brain and heart and soul,
And have no common language and exchange
Of sympathies; yet, Edmer, I am still
God's fellow-countryman, and by Him known,
And never left, avoided, or reviled:
So on the Universal Love I rise
Above the dreary severance from man.

Eadmer.
Baldwin, I hear the voices in debate,
The king's high stutter and the bishops' whine,
And Meulan's serpent-sliding oratory,
Ahithophel's own speech.

Baldwin.
How long they stay:
Yet the discussion waxes.

Eadmer
[pointing to Anselm].
Holy sleep
Is on him. It hath left some infant's brow
To nestle to his temples. Such a smile
As God would light the lamps of Heaven with
Is on his face.

Baldwin.
It is a miracle.
Good brother, see! no dream possesses him;
He is intent on some reality.

Eadmer.
The lids close in their treasuries; all here
Is left untenanted; he's turned the key
On sense, to pace the walks of Paradise
Awhile in recreation with his God.

Baldwin.
They come.

[Re-enter from the presence Bishops and Nobles.]
Eadmer.
I'll touch him gently. Meekest sleep,
Here come thy brawling enemies.

Anselm.
How strange,
Unlovely!—Edmer!

Eadmer.
They are coming back,
Forth from the presence.

Anselm.
There was golden light
Before my Judge invisible—the light
Was feathered close with wings.

Eadmer.
O master, hear;
King William sends them back.

St. Calais.
Your lord the king
Bids you all other words put by to yield
Your more confirmèd answer.

Anselm.
I attend.

St. Calais.
You work to snatch the glory of his realm
From off your monarch's brow. Who takes away
His dignities and customs, takes his crown.
Leave thou the useless service of thy Pope;
Embrace the fruitful friendship of thy king.
Be free, and wait the bidding of your lord
In all things; pray for pardon, and your foes,
The mockers, shall be put to shame as deep
As is your honour high.

Anselm.
Unto the head
And vicar of the Church I will be true.
If any man would prove that this my faith
To Urban breaks my oath to William sworn,
Let him stand forth and I will answer him.

[A Knight steps forward.]
Knight.
Our lord and father, by my humble lips
Your suppliant children pray you keep good cheer.
Let not your heart be troubled: blessed Job
O'ercame the devil on his ashy dung,
And thus revengèd Adam whom the tree
Did snakily beguile.

Anselm.
Thy words are balm.

Eadmer.
Oh joy, the voice of God, the people's voice,
Is lifted in our cause.

Rufus
[within].
Bishops and lords.
What answer?

[Curtain rises. St. Calais goes to the King.
St. Calais.
Oh, I know not what to speak!
I cannot say ...

Rufus.
How now, thou fool, art dumb?
Damnation! not a word?

St. Calais.
'Tis only force
Can put him down; if he is obstinate
Strip off the ring and staff and drive him forth.

Meulan.
What! Strip your primest vassal of his fief;
'Twould loose the pack of troubles from their case,
Nor leave one hope of remedy. Your realm
Would rage with high seditions. Never think—

Rufus.
Will nothing please you? While I live I'll have
No equal in my kingdom.

Meulan.
All our guiles,
Close-hanging counsels, like a spider's web,
His sleep-refreshèd lips with single touch
Have broken to poor shreds.

Rufus.
What can be done?
I'll tell ye, bishops. Go, and to his face
Declare that ye withdraw your fellowship
And loyalty. Ho, ho! He will be shamed,
And groan that ever he has left his lord
To follow after Urban. Hence!

St. Calais.
We go.

Eadmer
[to Anselm].
They come again with nodding brows and eyes
That shrink before thy countenance.

St. Calais.
Henceforth
We no more love nor serve you, and the king
Withdraws protection.

Anselm.
Ye are wrong. Your love
And service are my right, withdrawn from me
Because I yield my love and fealty
Where yours and mine are due. I will not deal
As ye have dealt.—To you and to the king
I'll show a father's love, though you and he
Reject me thus. Yet for God's service I
Will keep the name, the office, and the power
With which ye did endow me, though the press
Of outward things is iron on my brain.

St. Calais.
Proud man, we will report thy words.

Rufus
[within].
How now?

St. Calais.
He scorns our harsh rejection.

Rufus.
All he says
Is clean against my pleasure; not a soul
Shall be my man who chooses to be his.
Barons, withdraw from him all friendship, faith,
That he may see his gain in holding thus
Against my will—my will.

Meulan.
Our gracious lord,
We're not his men, we cannot take from him
What we have never given.

Rufus.
Curse them—ugh!

Meulan
[to St. Calais].
Judas!

Fitz-hamon
[to Walkelin].
Arch-Herod!
[To De Villula.]
Pilate!

St. Calais.
Would to God
The earth would open! Shame is in my limbs
That are base shivering traitors to my will.

Walkelin.
Fall, fall the roof and hide me.

Rufus.
Bishops, say!
Have ye abjured your whole obedience
To Anselm, or but such as he would claim
By Rome's authority?

St. Calais.
All, all, my lord.

Rufus.
Friend, to the place of honour.—Answer thou!

Walkelin.
I have abjured but such obedience
As he by Rome hath claimed.

Rufus.
Go, turn your face
To yonder corner, till your chastisement
Be ready for your back.

Walkelin.
My lord, my lord!

Rufus.
Hence to the corner you who think with him,
And those against him welcome to our side.

Walkelin
[aside].
With heavy coins we'll lighten punishment

[They talk together apart in a corner.
Rufus
[aside].
I know not how to loose him with the staff
Still glued between his fingers.

[Enter Walter of Albano.]
Meulan.
See who comes!
The Papal Legate, and a pallium
Is like a starry night upon his arm,
Black, blanched with crosses.

Rufus.
Hail! You come in time.
Place for the Bishop.

Albano.
Blessings on the king
Whose might is such that Urban by my mouth
Vows that no legate adverse to thy choice
Shall cross the English borders.

Rufus.
Ha! He doth.
[Aside.]
Then I'll acknowledge Urban, and this man
Will strip old Anselm of his ring and staff;
And then we'll pack him safely over seas,
And be sole tyrant of his trembling Church.
[Aloud.]
We for that grace acknowledge Urban Pope.
Clerks, write a proclamation to the land
And spread it through my empire's length and breadth.
[Aside to Albano.]
Gold, flaming bullion, burnished mighty mass
I'll yearly pay to Rome, if thou wilt take
His honour from that traitor.

Albano.
Yon old man,
The pious Anselm, with his gentle lids
Between the world and his own holy thoughts!—
His mother Church, I warrant, ne'er will lift
One grace from off his years.

Rufus.
By Lucca's Face,
I have gained nought through my acknowledgment.

Albano.
Peace with the Church, peace with her holy son;
[Pointing to Anselm.
For now ye are conjoined, and in your hearts
Is no contention.

Meulan.
Call him to your love.

Rufus.
Cursed be my folly,—execrable tongue
That hath betrayed its master! Fetch him up.
[Anselm approaches.
This holy legate with his honey speech
Hath made me Urban's. There is no offence
Between us. See, there hangs the pallium;
No weary journey, but a step between
Possessor and possession. Of the joy
You have in this escape from pilgrimage
You'll pay the sum our courtesy hath saved
To us who spare you?

Anselm.
Not a coin, my liege.

Rufus
[aside].
Miser! damned miser!—Give me then your word
That you'll obey all customs of the realm
And guard them from infringement, so once more
We'll call you ghostly father, and return
The honours of your title.

Anselm.
I will swear
According to the service of my God.

Rufus
[aside].
Beshrew you! How I hate the words.—Arise,
And sit beside me. From my royal hand
You shall receive the pallium.

Anselm.
Not so;
The staff I took, for it was yours to give;
The other gift is from his hand who sits
In Peter's chair.

Albano.
I'll lay it on the shrine
Of Christ in your cathedral, and from thence,
Dear, saintly primate, with your proper hand
You'll take it from Saint Peter.

People.
Yea!

Anselm.
I will.
My king, your friendship is the highest boon
God's earth could give.

Rufus.
'Tis yours.

Albano.
Behold how good
And joyful is the union of twain
In brotherly affection. Peace to all.

[Exeunt.