 | The Earl of Brecon |  |
20
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Chamber in the Castle.The Countess, and Sir Michael Brace, the Seneschal.
COUNTESS.
The Prior in his bed, Sir Michael Brace!
We lose the chief of all our witnesses.
Is he so sick? Speechless since yesterday?
SENESCHAL.
For what we want him, worse: his wits and tongue
Run every way but straight. He has been thus—
Been partly thus, since Corpus Christi wake;
A sevennight ere the Earl.
COUNTESS.
I heard of this:
Then let it melt away midst harder thoughts.
Well, we can do without him.
SENESCHAL.
Better, perhaps.
Baldwin may think his duty nearer payment,
And serve with greater heed. I have been bold
To hint so much—he may become our Prior,
And Luke may fill his place.
COUNTESS.
May!—ay, and shall.
There may be changes, which they guess not yet,
Both higher and farther back. For all that help
There shall be recompense. Who else, didst say!—
Since Mahel cares not for his bastardy,
'Twere better let him keep the profits of it.
Who makes the fourth? Ralph from the buttery?
Luke, Baldwin, and thyself—with whom beside?
SENESCHAL.
Ralph—pantler Ralph—the foremost of the three:
His eyes do ever look which way I please;
His skill is strongly building, bit by bit,
21
No architect nor master-mason he,
But still Ralph plumbs his level workmanlike.
All these will speak as I.
COUNTESS.
So, keep apart.
As yet I cannot tell which way to lead.
Follow me when I move. A trumpet! hark!
Prithee make haste and look for Hereford.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Court Yard of the Castle, partly filled with Guests, Citizens, Yeomen, Priests, Servants, and other Spectators. A space in front kept clear by Barnabas, Ralph, and Soldiers.SOLDIER.
Not look him in the face, Sir Pantler, why?
His eyes stand straight enough for such a matter.
Mahel is breathed and limbed as well as Builth:
As ready in his exercises too.
He would not quarrel at the feast, last night—
But now they both are sober.
RALPH.
Were he drunk,
And Geoffrey sober, something fair might chance:
They would be nearer matched. Beside strong limbs,
Light breath, long practice, wrestling, vaulting, tilting,
Fleetness of foot, mastery in horsemanship,
There should be two things else, Goliath of Gath—
Two better things than these.
SOLDIER.
A willing mind?
RALPH.
Stout-heartedness is one of them. Odso!
Thou dost wax great in wisdom day-by-day!
A righteous cause, the other. Geoffrey Builth
Puts man and woman underneath—dost think
A child may stop or turn him?
SOLDIER.
Heart and cause!
If these be naught in him, we shall have peace.
Thy Lord both coward and bastard, pantler Ralph?
22
More grace, if so, to pantler Ralph and me.
Ralph shall stand up 'gainst any man alive,
As one of them—the first of them—and I,
The next to Ralph, as both.
SOLDIER.
A bastard?
BARNABAS.
Ay—
From many generations misbegot,
On father's side and mother's side, am I;
And coward scarce less than he. If Ralph gainsay me,
Lend me thy glove, he lies!
(Trumpets.)
SOLDIER.
They come!—make way—
Give room enough.
Enter Geoffrey Lord of Builth, Sir Philip de Breos, Sir Andrew Fitzhaman, Sir Simon de-la-Hay, Sir Hugh, &c. on one side: Fitzwalter Earl of Hereford, The Countess Mother Margaret, Countess of Hereford, Bertha Fitzwalter, the Seneschal, Sir Reginald Saint Vallery, Sir Humfrey of Uske, &c. on the other: then apart, and after them, Mahel with Father Stephen.
GEOFFREY.
A fair and many-sorted company!
Neat-hides and Venice velvet scour each other.
Beside the gentle guests of yesterday,
Burghers and craftsmen—soldiers, yeomen, friars—
But welcome every one.
FITZWALTER.
We promised this:
Wide gates and open ears. A toad shut up
From air and daylight, lives a century:
But dies when sunshine and the winds have touched it.
So, for the most part, does a lie.
GEOFFREY.
I seek
A younger toad by almost fourscore years—
Your lie of five-and-twenty. He shall have
Daylight and air enough for such weak eyes.
So patience, sirs! Ye sup with me at even:
(to the crowd.)
Our bonfires will be lighted by-and-bye.
FITZWALTER.
Now for the Marshal of this challenger.
23
DE BREOS.
That I, by choice,
Would rather piece the last night's argument,
However roughly, like a broken bone,
Till time, with wiser handling, make it whole.
But needful skill and leisure both are wanting.
This we may do, my lord of Hereford—
Let us keep well abreast at setting out—
Tread tenderly awhile o'er dangerous ground—
Begin these rough roads smoothly. If we square
And jostle one another by the way,
So be it—there will be time enough.
GEOFFREY.
Well, forward!
Address thee to thy work again, good coz.
I ever hate this sharpening of the tools:
It sets my teeth on edge. Prithee, begin.
FITZWALTER.
What follows next, Sir Philip?
DE BREOS.
The lord of Builth
Claims Brecon also, by his uncle's death,
As only lawful son of Bernard's brother—
So heir to both of them. For we shall show
That Bernard, whom we buried yesterday,
Both lived and died unmarried.
GEOFFREY.
Let them show—
This spinster widow of the man defunct,
With Mahel and his sister Margaret—
That he died married, if they can, de Breos.
The showing rests with them. Old Mother Church
Should know the babes to whom she sent her blessing,
And gave the cradle, cushion, caudle spoon.
Where be her marks upon these lambs—if hers?
Her seals, her sacraments, her ministry?
Where be they, lord Fitzwalter? What says law?
Let proof be missing when it should appear,
Justice dissolves the court, shuts-to the door,
And custom takes the inheritance. Sometimes
They may tread roughly on some good man's toes;
My soul consents not to their cruelty:
But what of that? I cannot govern either.
An earldom's ermine makes too rich a robe
For any shoulders but the lawful ones.
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The king would claim it if my cousin forbore.
GEOFFREY.
Ay, marry would he—and he will even yet
Unless the one of us may step before him.
Therefore we should make haste. He starts the last,
And shall not slip between without a buffet.
The king has longer hands, but mine are nearest:
Let him beware his knuckles. I have hold,
And I will keep it, though the Devil be king,
Or king be Devil, Sir Philip.
DE BREOS.
Let me speak.
GEOFFREY.
Thou shalt, coz, by and by. Married! go to.
My father knew a heronshaw from a hawk.
Did these his knights believe in Bernard's marriage?
Seven years ago they winked at it. No doubt
His children were his children—hazel-eyed,
Fair skinned, like him; left-handed cousins they be.
As younger playfellows I loved them both.
What said I else, last night, to give offence
But that their mother sped without the priest?
Am I drunk still? I say it again while fasting.
SIR SIMON.
We give a double choice—take either handle:
Call up your witnesses, if such there are:
Bring vouchers for belief: bid Law be seated,
And choose the noblest here to arbitrate.
Do something which seems honest, what ye please.
SIR ANDREW.
Else arm and mount the claimants. Let them meet
As best beseems their place and ancestry.
GEOFFREY.
This Mahel when a boy surpassed his fellows.
What lets him now to look me in the face?
Is his heart faint? Well, bring his proxy then.
Choose one amongst so many, whom ye will.
Builth cares not for degrees in soldiership:
Prince, earl, or baron, down to lusty Hodge;
He likes the bravest best.
(Builth throws down his gauntlet.)
(Cries from the spectators.)
Mahel! up with it!
Ah, craven-hearted! will he let it lie?
He turns away! he dares not!
25
True, I dare not.
There is another witness that I dare not,
More feared than Geoffrey Builth or such as ye.
His curse against blood-guiltiness affrights me—
The ever-during wrath which follows pride
Forewarned of him, but heedless. Better to creep,
A fugitive and vagabond on earth,
Without his mark and sentence, to the grave,
Than carry both so far, and one beyond it.
Therefore it is I dare not. Shame like this,
If sharp as death, is milder than remorse!
Geoffrey has so far justice on his side—
He asks for proofs against his own belief:
He challenges what older men think his,
That which his father taught him, which his knights
Believed, and still believe. If breath alone
May quench this flame at once, or blow it out,
Supply the proofs he calls for—shut his mouth,
And shame his wiser servants; shall we spare it
Because his gauntlet lies upon the ground?
GEOFFREY.
By sun and moon, there is no more to do.
Sir Philip de Breos went foremost of the three;
I kept awhile behind him, then abreast him:
Mahel spurs past us both the self-same way.
He pleads against his earldom mightily!
Bless thee, fair kinsman! As I hope to thrive,
'Twere better fight with any man alive,
Or any other maid.
COUNTESS.
A man, dost say?
That pleads against his mother, sister, self,
His honor, name and lineage—all through fear!
Just now, he styled himself a vagabond.
This man of thine, who makes me face my judges,
To clear his sister's birth from bastardy!
We shall be talked to soon of beadles' whips:
The strumpet's penance must begin with tears!
My son is doubtful which of these to call me,
His father's wife or harlot!—Gentle knights,
Sir Philip de Breos, Sir Simon de la Hay,
Sir Humfrey, Andrew, Michael, Reginald—
The topmost plumes of England's chivalry—
I thought myself a Countess yesterday.
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Who called me harlot while he lived to hear you?
You set my cup beside me, carved my meat,
And rode bare-headed at my bridle-rein.
Knights should not kneel before a concubine:
Ye knelt both going forth and coming home.
Who called me harlot to him then? By Christ,
Ye dared not speak it, think it, dream it, sirs!
I say ye dared not, knights and noblemen.
To both the factions, Builth's and mine, I say it.
Your spurs had left your heels, the hangman's axe
Had spared this presence here, and answered for me.
Now that I am a widow, I must quit!
Your late lord's kinsman thrusts me out of doors!
I plead before his servants here! His son
Asks witnesses for conscience' sake—he is
A gospeller, what not! The vagabond!
I must bring hither contracts, vouchers, pacts,
Or blush, and own myself a concubine.
Nay, by my soul's best hope, I will not do it.
Let him maintain his birthright if he please.
My honor and his sister's take their chance—
So shall his earldom too. Why should I care
Whether the braggart or the craven get it?
SPECTATORS.
Bravely! Ah, Mahel! hollow heart!
FITZWALTER.
Look up—
Do thyself right and us.
MAHEL.
Right rests with Builth
Of reclamation 'gainst apparent wrong
While we hold back the proofs.
MARGARET.
Brother! a coward!
BERTHA.
Dost thou not hear thy mother? Take the glove;
Ah! fie upon thee, craven! Sunk to this!
Lost every way!
FITZWALTER.
Bethink thee yet.
MAHEL.
I do.
FITZWALTER.
Lift up the gage then—wake!
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Faint-hearted traitor!
BERTHA.
Is death so hard as this is? Shame upon thee!
COUNTESS.
Thou chalk-faced idiot—take the gauntlet up!
Why dost thou gasp and tremble thus?
STEPHEN.
Forbear!
And let me speak.
COUNTESS.
Peace, whisperer! Thou hast spoken
What rusts and rots his heart. Drive the priest hence—
Away with him!
(Stephen is forced off.)
FITZWALTER.
Dost own thyself so base?
Thou wilt not raise it? Then I will.
(Takes up the glove.)
Till now
I had no right to it. His place is void.
Two noble ladies stand impeached by Builth;
My mother-in-law and wife—as harlot, bastard—
This slave renounces them. Being next of kin,
I say that Geoffrey lies.
CROWD.
Bravely again!
Huzza for Hereford!
SIR REGINALD.
Had I ten swords
All should maintain their quarrel.
SIR HUMFREY.
My single one
Is freely theirs.
SENESCHAL.
And mine.
SIR GILES.
And so is mine.
GEOFFREY.
I take the stakes all round. Sir Philip, forbear!
I will not lose the lightest of the five.
It is my game—stand back, de Breos!—by Jude!
I fain would play it out with half a score!
When shall we meet, Fitzwalter? What's to-day?
We may bring arms by Tuesday next. At noon
I will dine here with wife and mother-in-law,
Ending our buffet first.
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For lawful lists
The king must grant his warranty.
GEOFFREY.
What need?
SIR SIMON.
Already I stand Builth's sponsor three times pledged,
As one of three, for more than half I have.
His Grace has tightly tethered all our legs,
And we must wait the loosing.
GEOFFREY.
Wait! Not I.
He may come first, Sir Simon de la Hay.
SIR SIMON.
I heed not, so he frees me from my bail.
GEOFFREY.
Wait! what a month?
SIR SIMON.
Haply two months or three.
My Lord of Hereford and Geoffrey Builth,
I hereby cite you both before the king
To keep his peace. I cared not for the boy—
No fear lest he should break it! Men are ye,
And dangerous both.
GEOFFREY.
Then let Fitzwalter bide
At Hereford the while, as I will here.
Tarry for leave a month or two? I will
Keep in, or get in, as I may!
COUNTESS.
Peace both!
Throw down the gauntlet, Milo; let it lie—
Thou shall not fight for truth against herself,
Nor run toward honor blindfold, Hereford.
Foul breath, the wind behind us, harms us not.
Sir Philip de Breos and Builth may laugh their fill—
Mahel is not the Earl. When he was born,
His father was not married. Loose the gage—
Now for the mountebank and clown.
MARGARET.
My Mother!
COUNTESS.
Ay, verily, so great a thing as that!
So much even still she is! Mother to Margaret!
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SIR ANDREW.
Vallery's sword,
Was lent to chastity.
DE BREOS.
A maiden loan,
No danger to its innocence.
SIR ANDREW.
It will
Need little grinding through its too much use.
SIR HUGH.
Sir Humfrey spake but once, and then amiss.
GEOFFREY.
I will be friends with every one of them.
DE BREOS.
We scarce have room to buffet one another,
While hunted truth lies panting on the ground.
GEOFFREY.
Marry, we have her now by both the ears,
And the brush too—this nimble-footed vermin—
At last ran fairly out of breath. Some kinds
Do stand, like bears, upon their hinder parts,
Ugly great-hearted truths—with ready paw,
Who will not budge from hottest questioners.
Others, when hardly pressed, go down the wind
Carrying their scent before them, badger-like.
Then dodge from brake to brake, or double back,
Take ground and must be delved for. Such is this.
But now that we have caught her, let us hold her,
And all be merry again.
DE BREOS.
She may not love
Such handling well enough for merriment.
GEOFFREY.
There shall be no change here which is not good.
Our cousin of Hereford must dwell content;
Fitzwalter will ride homeward. Geoffrey Builth
Has Brecon superadded. Gentle Mahel—
A godly and a peaceful youth he is—
Shall pray for all of us, mine Almoner,
With staff and signet-ring, anointed, shaven;
Within a month the Prior Saint of John—
He that is now such cannot hold a sevennight.
30
And Mahel's mother?
GEOFFREY.
Shall fare best of all.
What wouldst thou have to do with Mahel's mother?
Yea, by my Halidame! if minded so
She may be profitted by that which changes,
And that which needs no changing—both ways lucky.
Mine uncle Bernard's years were threescore odd—
Mine own are something more than half so many:
Say thirty-six or seven. Her's scarce midway
Betwixt the two, and borne without a flaw,
Borne bravely so far, as I live by bread!
Fitzhaman still runs first to look for strays;
But she shall dwell at Brecon here with me,
And fill the house with younger Mahels, Margarets.
Sometimes the latter math exceeds the crop.
I will maintain 'gainst him and Christendom,
That no man's flower is fairer than my fruit,
Ripe fruit, Sir Philip.
DE BREOS.
A challenge! for how long?
GEOFFREY.
Till over ripe. Be provident, fair coz,
A fagot of dry goss may stop a gap.
I need not think to marry yet, I hope—
Not yet, de Breos!
COUNTESS.
They have had space enough,
With time and leave, to try their archery;
Void butts and ample target. One aims wide;
The rest, with all their might, shoot scarce half-way.
Let them choose stronger bows and longer shafts,
Then prove their little skill a second time.
There is a sequel to this history:
Its consequence leaped first, and out of place,
To meet its provocations. What speaks now
May call its witnesses from standers-by.
I came to Brecon—how? Who brought me hither?
Whence came I, gentle knights? At what an age?
Some here have heard so much at least, Sir Hugh—
Was then amongst the pages. I was carried
By those who left my father's house in flames;
A child and captive, but a princess too,
And so esteemed till womanhood. Thus long
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Small room for choice, I trow. A hostage still,
How might I marry? While my father lived—
Against his will—against reproof of kin—
Bestow me with his enemy? If marriage
Be sacramental spousals, law would void,
And holy Church prohibit such a pact.
They both allow betrothals, wedlock's pledges,
Its sacredness, its purity, its truth.
All that we lacked, at first, were priestly blessings,
And these not long: nor matrimonial faith,
Its vows and mysteries at any time.
This noble sister's presence, as I thought,
Outweighed ten priests. I should believe so still,
But that you heart-sick craven is a curse,
And seems a punishment.
GEOFFREY.
Well, you and I
Will leave the vows and learn the mysteries.
So, prithee be brief. Ye cared not for the priest:—
What next befel? how then?
COUNTESS.
He cared for us,
When peace had swept the hindrances aside,
In giving needful form to what had been
As well without it, but for that.
GEOFFREY.
Ay! when?
COUNTESS.
Two years before the birth of Margaret.
Her right is clear both this and every way.
Fitzwalter is the earl on her behalf—
GEOFFREY.
What priest?
COUNTESS.
The prior.
GEOFFREY.
Sick! speechless! dying! who else?
COUNTESS.
Your aunt, Earl Bernard's sister.
GEOFFREY.
Dead as Eve!
COUNTESS.
The prince, my father.
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That, and something worse!
He would be long in coming whence he is.
Give us a lively witness—let him bide.
COUNTESS.
I know not who—some seven or eight were there—
Too many by half for what we wanted them.
A second marriage might disprove the first;
This pigeon-livered knave was then the heir,—
We wished to keep him such.
GEOFFREY.
I fain would hear
One witness yet unburied.
SENESCHAL
comes forward.
So you shall.
I saw this second marriage.
GEOFFREY.
How long since?
SENESCHAL.
At least, not less than one-and-twenty years.
We keep no reckoning by the almanac.
Being page, at that time, to the Earl deceased,
I followed with the grooms.—Live witnesses?
There were two priests or three, beside the prior.
FRIAR BALDWIN
comes forward.
Lo, one is here. If challenged for the time,
I should have guessed some eight or ten months earlier.
FRIAR LUKE
comes forward.
As Sacristan, I tended on the lights.
RALPH
comes forward.
And I kept shut the door—my back against it—
But hard beset, and with a deal to do.
Brides-people—what! but eight? Who tells me so?
No more than seven or eight? Why, ten were there—
The little lord himself was there.
GEOFFREY.
Who? Mahel?
Rare luck for him to see his mother married!
How old didst say he was?
RALPH.
How old? A year—
He scarce might stand untended on his feet,
But then the nurse's finger held him up—
Her little finger was enough. Good sooth,
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Saving this presence here, I got a kiss,
The porter's fee, from both of them.
GEOFFREY.
This drought
Ends in a flood which drowns us all! Who else?
Three groats would buy such fagotted by scores.
Another whispering to the last! out with him!
That piebald-pated Lazer—bring him forth!
He with his mouth ajar.—A censer-swinger—
Bell-ringer's deputy, or some such clerk—
He too, past doubt, was one of them. What sayest?
—Come forward, Patch, and tell us what thou art.
BARNABAS.
A second-handed prophet.
GEOFFREY.
Canst foresee?
BARNABAS.
What Merlin did foresee, I can interpret.
GEOFFREY.
Then give me better luck, and let us hear thee.
BARNABAS.
The bloody hand casts off its glove;
The carrion crow has hatched a dove;
The eagle flown, a kite comes down;
A flake of snow a lady's vow—
A lie can buy a silver chain—
A saint match Satan three to one—
So Ralph shall be the chamberlain,
And Baldwin Prior of Saint John.
(Exit.)
GEOFFREY.
Some one run after him, and bring him back—
Cry largess in his ear.
COUNTESS.
We wrong our patience.
One witness was required, and here are four.
I stay no longer questions. Clear the ground—
Drive these knaves home again, Sir Michael Brace.
FITZWALTER.
I claim the earldom on my wife's behalf.
CROWD.
Brecon and Hereford! huzza! he has it!
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Let Builth the challenger release his bail,
Then meet me singly or with whom he will.
I hold his gage till Christmas come.
GEOFFREY.
So long?
Thou shalt be fain to yield both glove and Brecon
By this day month, my Lord of Hereford,
Or Christmas cheer will scarcely keep thee warm.
Good-bye mine uncle's widow doubly married,
Therefore no maid, and yet no wife withal.
Keep smiles and kisses till I come for them—
We shall not tarry long.
(Exit with his Knights.)
CROWD.
Ah! down with Builth!
The Countess Margaret! Welcome, lady! welcome!
COUNTESS.
Take logs and fagots, be they whose they may:
To-morrow we will pay the loan of them.
Build bonfires till they overlook your roofs,
And, good Sir Michael, find them beeves to roast.
SENESCHAL.
Our barrels will run down the borough streets
Ere they be ready with their stoups.
COUNTESS.
Make haste!
No stint to-night.
(Countess, led out by Fitzwalter, passes Mahel.)
COUNTESS.
Well, what art waiting for?
A bastard token of my harlotry?
Bethink thee of thy choice and calling, child—
Thrust out the vagabond!
(Exit.)
MAHEL.
What! Margaret too!
(Margaret passes.)
Will she pass misery by without a look?
My sister! Fare thee well then! Canst not give
So small a wish as this for what I leave thee,
And bid God's peace at parting? Take my place—
But say farewell.
MARGARET.
Be gone to Hereford!
Spur sharper than this shame to hide thyself.
35
What hast thou left, or canst leave, but disgrace?
O, Mahel—fie upon thee!
MAHEL.
Hear me speak!
MARGARET.
A craven's sister! Bernard Newmark's child—
Fitzwalter's wife—appeached of bastardy!
The son forsake his mother! God forgive thee!
I rather would be what I thought myself,
Than what I am with all on this side heaven.
Take horse to Hereford.
(Exit.)
MAHEL.
That spark goes out!
It was the last I reckoned on to light me.
Fitzwalter's sister loves not like mine own.
(Bertha passes.)
BERTHA.
Margaret can neither love so much nor hate.
MAHEL.
Then for the sake of that which once has been,
One moment see and hear me.
BERTHA.
To what end?
MAHEL.
Not such as love might dream of. Hope is past—
But see and hear me, Bertha!
BERTHA.
For the sake
Of what I thought thee once—nay, think thee still—
For pity's sake—thy sister's sake—mine own—
Pray God I yet may see once again!
See thee where shame and mockery grieve us not—
Scorn, if it follow, cannot reach to harm us—
The hiss drops short, and cries of Traitor! Coward!
Make the pale face no paler! I would see thee—
—That mine own eyes may witness so much good—
Where pity may be blameless;—see thee safe,
Escaped the chidings of this infamy;—
But may God's grace forbid I ever should
While both of us can hear how loud it is!
(She turns to the crowd, and draws a ring from her finger.)
Look this way, gentle friends! Among so many,
There will be some fair neatherd, goatherd, swineherd
Affianced since Saint Vallentine or Yule,
36
With wishes for its happier speed, take this.
(Throws the ring amongst them, and exit.)
FIRST CROWD.
Who caught it, Giles? hold fast, Bartholomew!
SECOND CROWD.
It never touched the ground.
THIRD CROWD.
The better luck!
RALPH.
Her luck is getting loose from such an owl.
Ah! hollow-heart! out with him through the gate!
FIRST CROWD.
Hands off him, Jacob!
RALPH.
Weaver, get behind!
Drive out the runaway!
SECOND CROWD.
Nay, spare to strike!
THIRD CROWD.
Well, let him go then.—Thrust him with the staff!
RALPH.
Help Builth against his mother!
FIRST CROWD.
Let him loose!
Deal gently with him, Judeth!
THIRD CROWD.
Bastard! Craven!
Halloo! he flies!
(Mahel looks, for a moment, at the Towers—and then rushes out—followed by the crowd.)
SCENE III.
Chamber in the Castle.Father Stephen and Barnabas.
BARNABAS.
Leave wringing of the hands and counting rafters!
What wouldst thou with me, father? Here I am.
Didst send to find a comforter? Go to:
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Of making capons for this world of cocks,
This huge and smoking dunghill, whereupon
The strongest beak and sharpest spur speed best.
Thy chicken's-legs were tethered shrovetide-wise:
So Geoffrey Builth has plucked his feathers off.
Woe worth the while, good father! Thou didst light
The fire which boiled his little heart to broth!
Thy doctrine sweated valour fairly out,
Exhaling soul and manhood drop by drop.
Take comfort of me, father!
STEPHEN.
May He grant it
Who hears and pities misery! That poor child
Had patience while the rabble chased him forth—
Whooped, hissed, and cursed him through the howling streets—
And I have none! They hunted him about!
They grudged a refuge at his father's grave,
And thrust him from the church!
BARNABAS.
Friar Baldwin did.
STEPHEN.
Haply he thought of malice fiercer still,
And so found patience. God forgive me, faithless!
I shall go mad! The same had thronged his heels
Bareheaded while their caps were cast toward heaven,
With shouts and songs, returning from the field;
Yea, though their neighbour's bones were left behind him;
Themselves nor eased nor profited! His hands
Were bloodless and employed in doing good—
Therefore they hissed and cursed him! Hear me, son.
I cannot follow him—I am shut in;
The Seneschal has closed the gates upon me.
Seek fitter garments for his state and need:
Hide him from farther malice: keep thou near him.
Nay, tarry not! bethink thee where he is!
As thou shalt hope for mercy—show me this.
BARNABAS.
We two will do our best for one another.
I take thy place as preacher—so farewell!
If I can bring him back to face his mother,
Or fight a main with Geoffrey Builth, I will.
(Exeunt.)
END OF ACT II.
| The Earl of Brecon | |