 | Marie de Méraine |  |
96
SCENE IV.
Council Chamber in the Palace.Bishops, Nobles, &c., &c. Torchlight.
B. of Paris.
[Apart to other Bishops.]
If me to this stern office ye depute,
I claim support most absolute.
A. of Rheims.
You have it.
I speak for all.
B. of Paris.
No fear, no compromise, but be your port
As dauntless as the bane ye would avert
Is quick and awful. Firm, united stand!
I doubt the laity, and know the sway
This subtle yet rash king doth exercise
O'er martial spirits.
[A flourish of trumpets.
Enter Philip, with Attendants. He ascends the throne.
Phil.
Greeting kind to all.
'Tis late; but ever should a people's need
Make a king's season. To the issue, friends!
I know that peril threatens.
B. of Paris.
It may strike,
Sire, while we plot to shun it. Let the knell
Of Rome's dread wrath but sound, and France is lost!
Her guardian saints desert her; in her streets
A curse alights on labour; in her plains
Withers her harvest; warps her policy;
In war makes her sword edgeless, and her shield
'Gainst the first lance to break; chokes in her fanes
The very breath of prayer; unto her dying
Denies the rites and solace of the Church,
And burial to her dead! Sweet Providence—
When daily sent by Heaven to bless the world—
Shall make her pilgrimage circuitous
Rather than cross this kingdom! Wrath divine,
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Earth shall write infamy, and God—despair!
Phil.
'Tis well: the woes ye so much lay to heart
Ye will be prompt to remedy.
A. of Rheims.
Alas!
With us no succour rests.
B. of Paris.
'Tis the king's task.
Phil.
The king's and yours. The marriage you annulled
Upon your oaths—the Pontiff would enforce
By spiritual menace. He commands;
Obedience rests with you. Disown his sentence;
Abjure his unjust vengeance; let the Church
Through you her holy offices dispense
Spite of his edict! Then his ban falls harmless.
B. of Paris.
What! Wouldst thou have us, prelates of the Church,
Defy the Church's head? 'Twere vain as impious;
We may not question Rome's prerogative.
Phil.
You may not palter with your sworn allegiance.
Your oaths!—I have your oaths.
B. of Paris.
All bonds are void
That Rome annuls; allegiance' self is void
In this behalf.
A. of Rheims.
Sire! Your late union—
[Hesitating.
B. of Paris.
Your cancelled union with the Lady Marie—
Phil.
Paris! The foe has been held bold who broke
His lance on Philip's buckler; yet he's bolder
Who'd snatch from Philip's arms the love he clasps
Unto his naked breast!
B. of Paris.
Even that love
Must thou renounce! 'Tis Rome that speaks through me.
A. of Rheims.
My liege, the Pope—
Phil.
The Pope, my lords! Four letters!—things, not names!
The Pope! Did earth receive him from the stars;
Or sprang he from the ocean?—Did the sun
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Turn the skies sable at his death? He came
Into this world by nature's common road,
Needs food to succour life, is chilled by cold,
Relaxed by heat, would drown in a rough sea
Soon as a serf would!—Let him ban the fields,—
The grass will grow in spite of him!
B. of Paris.
Impiety!
Bear'st thou that front so boldly?
Phil.
I will speak.
Man's love—the growth of heaven—of nought below
Admits control. Heaven's ministers should know it!
1st Noble.
True; by the Oriflamme!
2d Noble.
Upon my knighthood,
We shame ourselves to see this lady shamed!
3d Noble.
Than whom did none more gracious e'er tread earth.
My lords, you are miscounselled!
[To the Bishops.
B. of Paris.
What, are you
Revolters too? Then—
[Bells are heard to toll, and continue to toll at short and regular intervals throughout the scene.
Hark! The time is past,
The time for duty. King! those sounds declare
Thy land cursed for thy sake. With it and thee
The heavens break off their league. Wherefore on earth
We lay the sacred symbol of our faith
In token of the grace profaned and lost!
[They lower the crucifix.
Submission and repentance—deep, entire—
Are all that now remain.
[A long pause, during which the tolling of the bells is alone heard.
An Officer.
Way there; the queen!
Enter Marie, followed by her ladies.
Marie.
Philip, my lord! What mean those fearful sounds?
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They drove me to thine arms, and I am safe.
[She rushes to the steps of the throne; at a sign from Philip, she takes her place at his side.
But thou?—Speak! Has my love provoked the curse?
The lone tree that would yield thee grateful shade
Attracts the lightnings now!—Is it so?
B. of Paris.
Ay;
For thee he stands accursed.
[A pause; the bells are again heard.
Phil.
Peal on! we hear.
Mark me, ye mitred oath-breakers! But raise
One finger, move one step, or breathe one word
In furtherance of this curse—and ye shall beg
For leave to beg. Of rank, revenue, power,
We dispossess you, cast you forth from France,
Wherein found against command, you die!
Nobles, ring round the throne!
B. of Paris.
Back from that chair!
Marie.
Philip!
Phil.
On your allegiance!
B. of Paris.
To the Church!
Phil.
Mayenne!
I flung thee knighthood's spurs ere well thy neck
Had lost the page's pliant curve. Dumont!
I knew thee when thine arms and steed composed
Thy sum of fortune. De Latour! we fought
Abreast at Palestine.
[Shouts and tumult heard without.
Enter Guérin.
Guér.
My liege, all Paris
Shrieks wildly at your gates!
B. of Paris.
[To the Nobles.]
Hear, gallant sons!
On your souls' love, break up that fatal ring.
[They fall back from the throne.
Phil.
[To Nobles.]
And you desert me? Traitors!
B. of Paris.
Thou art left
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Have crouched to Rome.
Phil.
[Passionately, and descending a step.]
Crouched, vassal? [With scornful laughter as the Bishop falls back.]
Guérin, look,
Yon pale-faced monk talks to the king of crouching!
[To Bishops and Nobles.]
Deem ye my sires, whose tombs were glory's shrines,
Have left their sceptre to a bastard hand,
That I should crouch?—Speak! plains of Asia, speak!
That saw me singly cleave through paynim hordes,
As I had wrung Death's truncheon from his gripe!
Speak for me, rescued bondsmen! speak for me,
Fierce vassals who have knelt to take my yoke,
You, you, and you!—No, perjured priest! had Fate
Lent her polluted lightnings to your hands,
Even as you boast, I'd bid you rain your fires
On an unshrinking front. I'd fall a king!
Way, there! Sweep back this tide of yeasty froth,
That where we pass no spray profane our robes.
Way there, I say—The Queen of France would pass!
Come!
[To Marie.
Marie.
Not a step.
Phil.
How?
Marie.
Not to thy ruin.
B. of Paris.
Away; all to your homes! His doom is sealed.
Who stays to parley with his guilt, partakes it.
Marie.
Yield, Philip, yield! Stay, I command you stay!
[To the Bishops.
The king is saved—is saved! You little knew
The queen you would degrade. Take back thy crown.
[Takes off the crown, and, kneeling, lays it at Philip's feet.
Take back the oath thou gav'st me! thou art free,
And I no more thy wife!
[She descends from the throne.
Phil.
[Following her.]
What hast thou said?
Marie forsakes me! Canst thou?
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Yes, to save thee.
Phil.
To save?—to crush me.
Marie.
Philip, grant one boon.
And I remain. Unto the Pope appeal,
Or those he shall appoint, to judge our cause.
Plead with them thy divorce, thy right to wed me,
Owned by these prelates. Then, whate'er the sentence,
Thou must abide it. Pledge thy word.
Phil.
I pledge it.
My lords, you stand dismissed.
B. of Paris.
My liege—
Phil.
Dismissed!
[Impetuously embracing Marie, as the rest retire.
They soon shall kiss thy feet! [Bells are still heard to toll.]
Ay, clamour on,
Vain tongues of doom! Marie is still—
Marie.
[Clinging to him.]
Thy wife!
| Marie de Méraine | |