John Baliol :: :: University of Virginia Library

And honourable burgesses all met,
Towards my kingly coming? What's their cheer?
Look they as cross and uncomplaisant
As at the church of Norham, where I got
Such sour reply and gloominess of brows?

DE BEK.
Ten days, my liege, they have been waiting here,
With murmurs all the while at your delay;
I have observed them, and have watch'd their words
Betokening no submission or compliance;
Their faces, as they enter'd Berwick gate,
Seem'd scowling at the stones with discontent,
As if they said, We have no business here;
We are poor fools thus to be led about
Like dancing-dogs by England; and, e'er since,
I have o'erheard them as I walk'd the streets
Mutt'ring big burly words of Independence,
And Scotland's lordship, how she is as free
Of England as the quick and skittish wind
Is of the quagmire that she skims along,
Tossing her tall slim rushes in contempt.

KING EDWARD.
Ha, mort de Dieu! Is't so?—I liked not, truly,
The audacious bearing of these northern churls,
When they confronted me at Norham church,
With brows as over-lordly as mine own:

I ask'd submission, and they gave me scorn;
When I required their joint acknowledgment
Of England's vouch'd superiority,
As necessary act preliminary
To farther process in their settlement,
They set their faces up as if to heaven,
With saucy speech; saying, I ask'd a thing
Illegal, which if e'er their tongues should yield,
Might cancers eat them up e'en from the root,
And that to God in heaven, to none beside
Their king was subject, nor shall ever borrow
A power at second-hand from crowned creature
As underling to any king on earth.
Whereat displeased, I caused them flit from hence,
Like sparrows at an angry schoolboy's shout,
And here appointed them a second meeting,
Once more to try their mood.

DE BEK.
Their mood, O Sire,
Remains obdurate as their country's rocks;
Nor vinegar of threat, nor axe of gold,
Has power to mollify or break them down
E'er to concede their country's vassalage.
I have been sapping round and round their souls
With the temptation of bright English angels;
As saints do devils, they resist our angels.

I have been threatening them with English wrath,
But Scottish pride rebuffs me scowl for scowl.
In sooth, my liege, it will be hard to deal
With such perversity and touchiness,
Or tame it into crouching acquiescence.

KING EDWARD.
Ha, so? St Mary! ere I name their king,
He shall confess himself my feudatory;
I'll see to that.

DE BEK.
If then my lord would look
For one that will submissively subserve,
Giving his gentle spirit to be govern'd,
Mark thou the meek competitor, De Baliol.
He may submit him to the vassal's bit.
If thou would'st overlook and pass by one
Whose o'er-imperious mettle would rebel,
And wince against the pricks of good authority,
Mark thou De Bruce; he has the seeds within him
Of obstinate and unobsequious pride;
He's not the man for England.

KING EDWARD.
I know something
Of both the men.—But go, De Bek, convene
Anon a council in the parish church
Of the commissioners of either realm,

There to discuss, previous to my decision,
Who most to them appears to have the right;
And bid the claimants, Bruce and Baliol,
Here meet me separately, that I may probe
Their secret dispositions thoroughly
Ere I declare.

[Exit De Bek.
KING EDWARD
(alone.)
What!—Sang de Dieu!—Must I
Thus be fobb'd off and fool'd with vanity?
St Edward! No—I took not up this task
Thus to be disconcerted, baffled, baulked
From my original and secret purpose:—
For this was I recall'd, and flatter'd off
From purging long-vex'd Jewry of the Turk,
Whither I was on expedition bent,
Following dear glory e'en to the awful spot
Where Jesu died—for this, but to preside
A shadow of an arbitrator here,
O'erlay'd with Peace's cumbrous frock, and reaping,
Instead of harvests of wide-waving fame
In the rich East, a handful of poor wind
Upon the North-west's barren barriers?
Marry, no, no—
'Twas not for this I did disband my men,
And sunk at once my heaven-saluting banners,
And whirl'd me homewards from astonish'd France,

And turn'd my back upon the gorgeous East,
To plant a king in Scotland, to perk up
One that should spurn my lordship, and full soon
Steal strength to terrify, and tug me back
From future ventures in the Orient:
Ay, verily, I should be chronicled
A gosling of a king, a sceptred ninny,
To travail thus with panting and with sweat
For ends so puny and so nugatory:—
I'll see to manage better.—Ere exerting
My privilege of umpire, I'll take care
That he, whom I shall nominate their king,
Shall doff the cap of homage to my throne;
I'll see it done in manifest clear act,
Exposed to glaring sunlight, that henceforth
No Scottish king shall mutter doubts about it,
But truckle down to me and England's sceptre
Till the world's end.

Enter De Bek with Lord Bruce.
DE BEK.
My gracious sovereign, here
At your high bidding waits the Lord De Bruce.
[Exit De Bek.

KING EDWARD.
All hail, Lord Bruce, and welcome!

LORD BRUCE.
Hail, thrice hail
To England's king, and happiness for ever
Be handmaid in attendance round his throne!

KING EDWARD.
Thanks, Lord De Bruce, and should a throne be yours,
(As who dare prophesy it shall not be?)
Heaven grant its canopy be all of joy,
As be its bottoms lined with liegemen's love!
But thrones are slippery and unsteady things,
And ticklish in the winning; wherefore help
From some beneficent and powerful hand
Is needed for th'attainment; Right itself
Is impotent in furious competitions,
And needs to be crutch'd up by th'sturdier props
Of Interest and Influence.

LORD BRUCE.
King of England,
My claims are known and out upon the world
In hot discussion, scarce requiring now
A vain enlargement to your royal ear.
I am the grandson of the great Earl David,
To that high stock the nearest in descent;
I pillar all my titles and pretensions

On this foundation; and should these fair claims
Prove, as I trust, of true validity,
O'erweighing others in th'impartial scales
Of arbitration poised by your hand,
I shall rejoice, O King, t'accept the crown
Adjudged to me as rightful heritage:
And I shall wear it more exultingly
From being tender'd by a hand so honour'd.
But should my title be o'erpoised by one
Discover'd to be juster, well I know
How goodly and how glorious thing it is
To be submissive to awarded right;
I have it not to learn to be a subject.

KING EDWARD.
Ay, that is well, De Bruce, and marks a mind
Revolving on itself heroically,
High hung on Honesty's thrice-noble hinge.
But mark, De Bruce,—when Justice is perplex'd
With subtle points of hair-breadth nice solution,
Wherein Discrimination's eagle eye
Is foil'd and puzzled with resemblances,
Why, then a grain of favour, a poor mote
Of any gracious stuff foreign from justice,
Relieves th'inquisitive search-pained eye,
Making it fasten with fond predilection
On what would otherwise be under-prized:

Even so your title, goodly though it seem,
And shining out with shows of verity,
Might be advantaged by a small adjunct,
A precious one, though small, a golden gloss
Gilt on its solid substance, wherewithal
To rivet down the adjudicator's eye,
And win and witch it into prejudice.
Think on't, De Bruce; I would your title were
Graced with that decoration.

LORD BRUCE.
Should that bring
Upon my name no blot, nothing dishonourable
On me or on my country, would I had
This commendation to your kingly grace.

KING EDWARD.
William the Lion, brother of thy grandsire,
Th'anointed King of Scotland, deem'd it not
A blot upon his name or on his crown,
To be what Bruce may be to win his right,—
The homager of England.

LORD BRUCE.
Willingly,
As my forefathers knelt, I too shall kneel
For Cumberland and the other seigniories
Achieved for us in England; heretofore,

That homage ne'er has been refused, and now
Will not be grudged.

KING EDWARD.
The Lion did not blush
To kneel him down to my great grandsire Harry
Ev'n for his crown.

LORD BRUCE.
That fealty, my lord,
Was wrench'd from his extreme necessities,
As being a vanquish'd man, and pris'ner fain
To catch at any terms for a release:
That fealty for ever was disclaim'd
By your King Richard; thence confess'd to be
A casual and capricious extortion,
Not as a right adherent to his crown.
King William's oath, unsworn, recanted thus,
Leaves Scotland what she was, and aye shall be,
Subjected to the God of Heaven alone:
And your high majesty commits a wrong
On me, and on my country, in requiring,
As bargain for our kingly settlement,
Surrender so illiberal and slavish.

KING EDWARD.
De Bruce, De Bruce, think of the price how little,
The purchase how immense!

LORD BRUCE.
The price, O king,
Is servitude, which, though in outward act
It be but bending of the body's joint,
Stamps the whole mind eternally with stain
More shameful-foul than flatt'ry can o'ergild.
I will not crouch to such an infamy;
I will not cringe a thrall, to mount a king;
I will not thus abuse, insult my country,
And drag her down from th'eminence of glory,
On whose illumin'd far-seen tops she sits
High-throned, next to the burning sun of heaven:
Be my lips blasted ere I own her vassal;
Be my hand wither'd ere I sign her vassal:
Dry up my joints, shrink, stiffen into death,
Ere I do bend the knee to doom her vassal;
I'd rather be a hind upon her soil,
Ploughing her glorious ridges haughtily,
Mean in my state, but mighty in my freedom,
Than strut about amid her palaces,
Crown'd despicably and ingloriously,
Debased, debasing, with the sneaking breath
Of mean subjection, tarnishing the domes
Where Scotland's monarchs hitherto have walk'd
Free in unmaster'd, conscious majesty.
This is my answer to your royal grace;

If such the terms of royalty, I scorn it,
And court a subject's noble littleness
Rather than cringe a vassal-monarch so.
I leave your highness to deliberate
Upon my titles; if they have no weight
Disjoin'd from such submission, let them perish;
If they be strong, let me on them alone
Rise nobly to a yet-unblemish'd throne.
[Exit De Bruce.

KING EDWARD.
There, there is northern mettle, there is stuff
Too stubborn stiff e'en to extend a hand
For acceptation, or to curve the knee
Into becoming shape of thankfulness!—
Ev'n let him pack with all his pride about him;
Let that up-buoy, and keep aloft his heart
With mighty musings, when his humbled head,
Bare of th'expected royalty, shall sink
Down into shame before some happier rival.
We'll find another, oil'd with more compliance,
Whose joints, uncramp'd with cold formality,
Will be more supple to cow'r down, and be
Paid for the kneeling with a diadem.
Such starched stiffness will not do for England
Be his rights strong as cable, they shall snap
As thread before the tug of my displeasure:

By this demeanor shall his rival's claim
Tenfold be better'd and be beautified;—
But here he comes, twin-brother of the claim,
Calmer and sweeter, boding tamer things
By his aspect.

[De Bek enters, with the Lord de Baliol.
DE BEK.
My liege, I usher in,
According to the pleasure of your grace,
The Lord De Baliol to the royal presence.

KING EDWARD.
I bid Lord Baliol hail, and stretch to him
Thus joyfully the hand of salutation.
I but salute him as a subject yet;
But soon, with God's good grace illustrating
To our convinced sense his title's fairness,
I hope to give him higher gratulation,
And clasping him more closely, bid him walk
A brother-king, yoked with me arm in arm,
In high-aspiring loftiest fellowship.

DE BALIOL.
I thank your grace, great England's majesty,
For gratulations of such stirring hope;
I pray to God your highness may be bless'd
With plenitude of days and earthly joys,
Even till Felicity's rich well be drain'd;

So shall your joys upon us back redound,
In their reflection relish'd as our own,
As ours again, reverted mutually,
Haply may give fresh relish to your grace's.

KING EDWARD.
Why, that is friendship, Baliol, and infers
An interchange of kindly offices
Refused by neither, tendered tenderly,
And taken not too doggedly, but with
A flexible and kneeling gratitude.
Why, there be men, who, at a proffer'd boon,
Turn up a snorting and a saucy nostril,
As if the proffer did accuse their virtue;
As if they shudder'd, in their stubbornness,
At the immense imagined debt incurr'd
By mere receiving of a benefit.
Others there be more gentle, who submit
To pocket gifts, and scorn not to be grateful.
I like the man, whose oily soul is soft
To such impressions, who can say “God bless you,
I thank you, sir;” and, seeking tow'rd his knee,
Can curve a seemly genuflection,
Court'sying fair homage to his benefactor.
He is the man I cherish, and would fain,
For his humility, advance on high,
Upon the summit of his heart's desires.—

De Baliol, thou art one of many rivals;
The choice is in my hands; can'st thou be chosen
And not be thankless?—Set by me upon
The king-trod platform that commands the world,
Can'st thou humiliate thyself a little,
And kneel a quittance for thine exaltation?
Speak out thy mind, De Baliol.

DE BALIOL.
Royal sir,
When Goodness, like a god, extends a gift,
'Tis churlishness, inhuman, demon-like,
To start away, abhorrent of the boon,
With grudge and malediction of the giver—
What would your grace require?

KING EDWARD.
List ye, Lord Baliol:
William the Lyon, to be Scotland's King,
Acknowledged her dependance upon England,
And knelt at York, in presence of his lords,
Surrender to King Henry. What he did,
Thou well may'st do; the precedent is given,
Incurring neither challenge nor reproof
On him who seconds, not originates
The example; which to follow quietly,
Good men who cherish peace will much commend.
And albeit some few churlish malcontents

May rate and rail, it's envy may be flung
On the precedent doer who chalk'd out
A line of action to his successor,
Admitting no transgression; and which he
That mounts the throne must needfully walk by:
Make up thy mind for answer, Lord De Baliol;—
Should'st thou refuse, there stands one at the door
Ready to enter in upon thy footsteps,
To catch the prize on these or any terms,
To cringe the knee as low as I shall bid him,
And by a short small feudal ceremony
T'avert and alienate from thee and thine,
Thy house's hopes, and Scotland's crown—for ever!

DE BALIOL.
O King!—thou hast assail'd and won my soul:—
I yield me to thy instances.

KING EDWARD.
Then happy,
Happy De Baliol! thou art fortune's darling;
I do congratulate thee on her embraces;
For this thy sons shall bless thee, and this day
Shall be the term whence thou and thy posterity
Shall date their flood of honours and of joys.
Kneel then, my lord, in private here to me
Thy sign of homage, which in proper form
Before the dignitaries of either realm

Thou shalt exhibit more notoriously.
Kneel, my good lord!

DE BALIOL
, (kneeling.)
I kneel in testimony,
That I do now, as my successors shall,
Henceforth and to all time, receive the right
Of kingship over Scotland, from the hands
Of England's King, our feudatory chief,
And paramount superior, to whom 'longs
Our realm as proper fee!

KING EDWARD.
'Tis done, and seal'd;—
Now, John De Baliol! rise thou King of Scotland;
Up, and erect thy face to royalty!
Look now abroad commandingly; now laugh
At thy co-rivals, who, abash'd and baffled,
From thy imperial glance shall shrink again
Back to their holes of mean obscurity.
Whilst thou—To Scoon, and be thou crown'd King John!
The sceptre, robes, and holy oil of unction,
Await thee there; whilst here I utter forth,
By my own mouth, and the collected mouths
Of Europe's here amass'd oraculous wisdom,
Thy name uncontradicted Scotland's King;—
Away, King Baliol, get you gone to glory!—
[Exit De Baliol.

'Tis well—that fowl is fledged—E'en let him fly;
He is mine own;—I have the gesses twined
About my hand, by which at pleasure I
Shall twitch him from his heaven of royalty.—
Now for the council, whom, embroil'd and vext
With wearisome insolvable discussion,
My word must disentangle and set free,
Melting asunder with one puff of breath
Th'inextricable knot that puzzles them.