University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Library in Barden Tower. Lord Clifford and the Prior of Bolton seated at a table covered with papers, books, and mathematical instruments.
LORD CLIFFORD.
Alas, lord Prior, we must interrupt
The pleasant course of our most loved researches!
To watch the wanderers of the nightly sky,
That shed their influence, adverse or benign;
To trace the mysteries of Nature's work
In earth or water—whether we remark
The ebbs and flows of Ocean as he leads
His mighty waves beneath the moving moon,
Or seek, by chemic fire, the still-hid stone
Philosphy hath worn her eyes to find;—
These, our enjoyments, must give place awhile
To painful duties.

PRIOR.
God's high will be done!
When open you the court?

LORD CLIFFORD.
I wait the coming
Of certain of the northern visiters,
As evidence against the robber horde.

PRIOR.
How many of the villains are secured?

LORD CLIFFORD.
Some twenty, and with them a sly old fox
That keeps the hostelry at Kilnsey.

PRIOR.
Ah,—
Is he suspected?

LORD CLIFFORD.
Yes, of leaguing with,
Abetting, and concealing them.

PRIOR.
I hear
Earl Percy hath arrived.

LORD CLIFFORD.
His lordship came
Last night, and will attend the court. He begs
A previous interview to talk with me
On matters of high moment.—Would 'twere over!
For I do hate so much these shows of life—
The words that nothing mean, the smiles that hide
The pain of the tired heart—that, by my faith,
I could e'en now exchange this noble name,
My lordly halls, and all their owner's power,
For the low cottage and the homely fare,
The unvexed spirit and the quiet sleep
I had among the glens of Cumberland,
Ere I was wakened to the certainty
Of my true rank, and all the cares that cling to't!

PRIOR.
That mood, my lord, is but a passing cloud,
Soon to depart and leave your spirit clear,
Else would I blame you for it. He who did
Retrieve the ruined fortunes of thy House,
And gave you power to sooth or to redress
The woes of thousands round you—power which ought
To be the sweeter, since yourself have felt
The very ills that ask your aidance—He,
I say, my lord, deserves more gratitude
Than such complaint implies.

LORD CLIFFORD.
O true, most true.
Yet must I feel that I am all unfit—
From natural disposition, and the want
Of artificial polish—for the sphere
My fortune threw me into. I believe
That what the Boy has been, the Man will be;
And I was, as a boy, contemplative,
Not prone to active sports. I was the child—
But let me check myself; for of my nature
'Tis the weak point—to prattle of the past,
Of things, perchance the listener nothing cares for,
Perchance hath heard before.

PRIOR.
Never to me
Did aught your lordship talked of, come unwelcome.
I love to hear old memories, recitals
Of passages, long gone, but called, as 'twere,
Up from th'abyss of time, and hallowed by
The light of fond Remembrance.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Then art thou
Fit to be listener when the aged speak.
—I was the child of war and of misfortune;
Born in a castle, suckled in the camp,
And thence transferred—when Ruin found my sire,
And would have found his son, that Clifford's name
Might only gild the past—transferred for safety,
To secret places in the west.

PRIOR.
Unknown
To those about you?

LORD CLIFFORD.
Ay, and to myself.
For the few gleams my youthful memory kept
Of prouder days, soon vanished; and I deemed
Myself the peasant boy that others thought me.

PRIOR.
Your lady-mother died.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Yes, died before
I was of age to be intrusted with
The dangerous secret of my noble birth;
But not before I was of age to learn
The faith my fathers cherished. Oft she read,
And wept the while, the blessed page that tells
Of God's sojourn with mortals.

PRIOR.
Well for you,
That the first knowledge of that Book was taught
By lips so pure as hers! You might have else
Erred, by interpreting the sacred word
In other ways than Holy Church permits
Her children to believe.

LORD CLIFFORD
(crossing himself).
Jesu be thanked!
I keep the faith. At three score years and ten
It were too late to re-examine points
Of controversy. These another race
May sift and battle for—as signs abroad
Seem to prognosticate they will.

PRIOR.
Saints grant
It may be well for Rome! 'Twas but last night,
I dreamt I saw my own fair Priory,
The beautiful House in which our fathers worshipped,
Doomed, pillaged, desecrated! Nay, I saw
Until the Ivy mantled every arch,
And waved from every window-shaft, and things
Obscene and nameless crawled and twisted, where
The holy Altar now is dim with light!
And I heard men, that walked about, and said
'Twas a just retribution for the waste
And wickedness that long had revelled there.
And some named me—me, Richard Moone, with curses,
And some with pity, as the last that ruled
As Prior within its walls.—St Mary, guard
The shrine thou lovest!—Pardon me, my lord;
This weakness but delays your narrative.

LORD CLIFFORD.
My dreams are of the mountains, where my youth
Did pass so happily, in sweet communion
With Nature—unacquainted with all pomp,
Except her own, when Night brought out the stars—

[Enter a Servant.
SERVANT.
My lord, Earl Percy.

[Exit Servant.
LORD CLIFFORD.
Thank your fortune, sir,
Your trial's past.
[Enter the Earl of Northumberland.
A thousand welcomes, lord,
To Barden Tower! Your lordship's willing servant,
The Prior of Bolton.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
That sum quadrupled
In thanks to both!
[To Lord Clifford.
Time hath laid on your lordship
A gentle hand since last we met. By heaven,
Did the Scot muster for another fight,
Thou wouldst bear arms as stoutly as you did
On Flodden Field.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Your lordship's pleased to flatter.
But thanks to Heaven, my age keeps green.—And you,
Time hath not passed you without adding strength
And manly bulk to the fair slender frame
I saw five years ago. Please you, be seated.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I crave your pardons both. My business asks
Your private ear, my lord.

LORD CLIFFORD.
I am your servant.
My friend will find amusement from these shelves
Till our return.

[Exeunt Lords.
[As the Prior takes down a volume the scene closes.

SCENE II.

A wood near Barden Tower. Enter Ladies Margaret and Emma, with Cathleen.
LADY MARGARET.
'Tis strange. Two days have passed, and yet he comes not!
O! love's impatience ought to shame the lightning
As slow and cold!—But one thing I have sworn,
That come he soon, or come he never more,
I will not wed this man, whom my good brother
Would kindly substitute for him I love!
Cathleen—

CATHLEEN.
My lady.

LADY MARGARET.
How fares Roddam?

CATHLEEN.
Well.
He doth recover as by miracle;
But loss of blood hath made him weak.

LADY MARGARET.
Brave Youth!
I would I were a Queen for Roddam's sake.

CATHLEEN.
I shall be glad to tell him of your wish,
And he be proud to hear of it.

LADY MARGARET.
Cathleen,
You know the song of Duncan? I bethink me
How the old Minstrel's tears mixed with his harp-strings
As he did sing it—giving what to me
Appeared a playful, not a sad farewell,
An air of sorrow and of prophecy.—
Just now, methinks, 'twould please me well to hear it.

CATHLEEN.

LADY MARGARET.
Hark! Mingled not with Cathleen's voice some strain
Of doleful note? Or grow I superstitious
Since Gordale's gloomy hour?

LADY EMMA
(looking out).
You heard aright.
There cometh now a funeral-train, who bear
A coffin decked with garlands. Maidens young,
Arrayed in white, support the bier. Some comrade
They take to her last home, I doubt not.—Hush!
Again they raise the hymn. Step we aside,
Until the sad procession passes by.

[Exeunt.
[Enter a Funeral. A coffin with the name of Fanny Ashton engraven on the lid, is carried slowly on the stage, followed by Cuthbert Ashton, his Wife, and mourners; Cuthbert leaning on a staff. The Bearers set down the coffin, while the following lines are sung.
HYMN.

[During the Hymn a Stranger, muffled, comes forward, places his hand on the coffin, and stands in an attitude of grief. Cuthbert and his Wife appear to notice him, and to converse earnestly aside. At length Cuthbert raises his staff and speaks—
CUTHBERT.
Avaunt there, villain! or beware the vengeance
Of a despairing father—father? No!
I was a father. Curses light—

STRANGER.
Old man,
Curse not. It 'vails not. It is curse enough
To feel what now I feel.

CUTHBERT.
Dost thou repent?
Then God forgive thee—as—I—do!

[Weeps.
STRANGER.
Amen!
And when thou seest my features, thou wilt know,
That I am able, not to heal thy woes,
But, it may be, to soften them.
[Shows his face to Cuthbert.
Exclaim not!
I would not these should know me for the wretch
I must appear to them, if known.
[Takes his arm.
Good Cuthbert,
Permit I prop thy steps, who have, alas!
Ta'en their sweet prop away. I have sad right
To be a Mourner here!

CUTHBERT.
(greatly agitated).
This is too much!

[The funeral moves on, and as the last of the train disappear, re-enter the Ladies.
LADY MARGARET.
Ever the same—O noble, noble youth!

LADY EMMA.
Who hath your admiration!

LADY MARGARET.
Saw you not?
What else was there to look at? Who but he
Dared play that part?—Too happy Fanny Ashton,
Thus mourned by him! 'Twere sweet, methinks, to die,
To have his tears shed o'er one!—Every drop
Is worth a kingdom!

LADY EMMA.
If so rich his tear.
What were his smile worth?

LADY MARGARET.
Worth the world! And if
There should be such a cloud upon his life
As may forbid me to enjoy that smile,
I'll live upon its memory, and die
When the sweet light shall vanish!

LADY EMMA.
That will turn
On your opinion of his rival, who,
They say, is handsome.

LADY MARGARET.
Emma, not a word,
I do beseech you, speak to me of him.
I ought not hate a man I never saw;
But, as a vapour that doth come between
My sun and me, I hate him; or at least
I wish him from my atmosphere.

CATHLEEN
(to LADY MARGARET).
So please you,
I see my lord, your brother, on the path,
And hastening hitherward.

LADY MARGARET.
He comes to lead us
Into the court. Away, and let us meet him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A court of Justice. On the bench sits Lord Clifford with Fenwick, Grey, Swinburne, Orde, &c. and Roddam. A number of the Outlaws chained together; beside them Harman Trueman. Behind the prisoners stand D'Eston and Farrand with the principal gentry of Craven. Earl Percy and the Ladies enter and take their places on the bench. The proceedings appear to have gone on for some time.
LORD CLIFFORD.
These men are ignorant; were wont to be
Good, honest villagers; and had of vice
Nothing beyond their class. 'Tis clear as day,
That they have been misled—misled by whom?
That must be scrutinised.—But there stands one
Whom I should mis-describe, did I put him
In the same catalogue with simple clowns.
Stand forward, Trueman!—Thou art here accused
Of leaguing with, abetting, and concealing
These men in their bad deeds. What canst thou say
In vindication of thy conduct?

HOST.
This—
I keep an open house.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Ay, that thou dost,
An open house for felons. Is't not so?

HOST.
For honest men, my Lord, if they have cash,
But that is seldom; and by this same token,
I do believe these honest. When they rub
The scores against them from my check-board, then
I may esteem them thieves.

LORD CLIFFORD.
A quibble, man,
Which shall not serve you. Thou hast heard the proof—
These men were frequent revellers at thy house.

HOST.
Ay, marry were they! Oft they drank and late;
Would they had paid as often!

LORD CLIFFORD.
Now, Sir, dare you,
Before this court, assert that these men owe
Even for one poor gill?

HOST.
I dare be sworn
That they have drunk a thousand, and ne'er paid
For one poor drop. Your worship shall be judge
If that implies a debt.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Another quibble.
This is a deep knave. But my honest Harman,
The question I shall next address to thee,
Will make a subterfuge too difficult
E'en for thy subtle brain. Art thou not paid
For all these men have drunk?

HOST.
I am, my lord.

LORD CLIFFORD.
So far 'tis well. Now wilt thou say by whom?

HOST.
By those that had the cash, my lord; for I,
Like all my tribe, do make good customers
Pay for the bad—in which sense I am paid.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Unfathomable rascal! But I will
Not thus be trifled with. Sir, these men stand
Convicted of a series of offences,
Gross, unaccountable. At Fountains Abbey,
In spite of curse by candle, bell, and book,
They drove the brethren forth. Six weeks ago,
The men of Gargrave from their night-attack
Scarce found the church a sanctuary. Tithes,
Ordained for holiest purposes, have been
Demanded and received—to gild their riot.
They fell on my poor servant, Cuthbert Ashton.
As their guilt's climax, from the last offence
Deaths have resulted; and the penalty
Their lives must pay. Now, Harman Trueman, thou,
As cognisant beforehand of their guilt,
Standest in equal peril. Thou canst yet,
However, save thyself, and do good service,
By now discovering who enticed them into
The course they soon may suffer for.

HOST
(turning round).
Is't so?
Then, officer, your gyves! I'll take my place
Beside the guilty, and will suffer with them.
For never will old Trueman turn informer
Against the friends that trusted them!

LORD CLIFFORD.
The rack
Shall tear the secret from thy craft!—Remove him
To torture, officers.

[Officers seize Trueman.
D'ESTON
(stepping forward).
A moment stay!
'Twill save your lordship's time, and spare you trouble,
To clear at once this matter up. These men,
Your lordship justly says, are ignorant,
And simple, and have been misled. Permit me
To earn for them a pardon, by delivering
One Leader up to justice.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Name him, D'Eston.

D'ESTON.
I am that one.

FARRAND
(stepping forward).
And I another.

SEVERAL GENTLEMEN.
We
Must also plead th'offence, my lord.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Amazement!
The flower of Craven's chivalry thus blighted!

RODDAM.
By th'Mass, I'm glad on't! Little did I dream
That we had such antagonists. In sooth
They fought like men; and were it mine t'impose
Their penance, I would order that anew
They meet us in yon chasm, and fight it out
With their good swords!

NORTHUMBERLAND
(smiling).
Peace, Roddam.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Other measure
Must be dealt out to them! It cannot be
That human life should fall like autumn leaves
Unnoted and unvalued. Gentlemen,
The law, that with an equal eye beholds
The guilt of rich and poor, or if it leans,
Leans on the rich with just severity,
As having ampler means to know their duty—
That law, long set at nought, demandeth now
Augmented vengeance.

[Enter Henry abruptly.
HENRY.
Yes; but not on them.
Here point your thunder, if the bolt must fall!
These have but shared the frolic and the farce,
The tragedy o'th'play hath all been mine.
I slew young Norton, I beheld the death
Of Fanny Ashton.

[A pause of astonishment.
LORD CLIFFORD
(to HENRY).
Then, young sir—

LORD FENWICK.
One word
Permit to me, ere judgment be pronounced.
There is a mystery in these transactions
Which it were wise to clear. I know that man
[Pointing to Henry.
I know his honour fair. If he hath ta'en
A life, as he confesses, I will pledge
My own, that it hath been for worthy cause,
And in fair fight. These are not idle words;
There is my gage—
[Throws down his gauntlet.
I'll prove them on the body
Of any that shall dare to take it up!

LADY MARGARET.
Thanks, noble Fenwick!—I forget myself—
I only meant to say that I believe
That—gentleman—incapable—I pray you—
Lord Clifford! He is innocent—

[Faints.
LORD CLIFFORD.
Sweet Lady,
Would he were worthy of so fair a pleader!
Look to her, lords.—This case we'll further hear
In private. Keep the prisoners in charge.
And, D'Eston, follow me.

[The Court breaks up.

SCENE IV.

A room in Barden Tower. Enter Northumberland and Henry, slowly, in conversation.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
I saw it all—young blood, that would not move
In the dull sluggish current of old age;
And enterprise, that would not pause to learn
The lessons of a stern economy.
And yet the hero who had shivered lance
In the “Field of the Cloth of Gold,” the play-fellow
Of princes, and the favourite of a King,
Should hardly have descended—

HENRY.
Hold, my lord,
Or I shall think I hear my father chiding.
I will amend all that.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I doubt it not—
And now of Norton?

HENRY.
Would he were alive,
And here, to answer for himself—and me!
For then I should not be compelled to say
What now I'm forced to.—He was of a House
Not, it is true, a rival of our own,
But still, from petty causes, oft a thorn
In our supremacy. Hence grew ill blood
Between us, e'en from boyhood. Rivalries—
I need not say in what—embroiled our youth,
In which my star still kept th'ascendant. Stung,
At length, to madness by imagined wrongs,
He challenged me to mortal fight. We fought.
He had his life—I took it not. Nay more,
I did receive him as a friend; I made him
Thenceforth my confidant. But there are men
To whom a kindness is a burden—who
Can sooner pardon injury, than a deed
Of generosity. To blast my hopes
Of union with your House, became a wish
And a determination, for the which
This Outlaw folly seemed to give him scope.
Wild as it was, and rash, his plan appears
But little fitted to achieve its object;
But Passion doth hide peril, as the mist
Conceals the yawning chasm.—Not much remains
To tell. Defeated in his mad attempt,
And conscious he must answer for it—not
To me alone, but to the outraged law—
By desperation urged, assassin-like,
At my unguarded breast he struck. His blow
Was intercepted, and, alas! received
By one whose story you shall hear. I slew him;
'Tis pity, but 'twas in my own defence.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I do believe it; and, if that were needful,
Would gladly stand your friend. Come on—

HENRY.
Not yet.
I go to change this garb.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Pray you, what next?
Shall it be forester's green, or peasant's gray,
Or Outlaw's steel-ringed jerken?

HENRY.
Good my lord,
Mock not! I'll none of them. Remember you
A certain Knight that joined your northern stag-hunt?

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I understand you. Go—and lose no time.
[Exit Henry.
[Enter Lord Clifford.
St George! there have been stirrings here, my lord.
I almost could believe me still on th'Border,
Where skirmish 'twixt the Suthron and the Scot
Creates no marvel. Where hath justice slept?

LORD CLIFFORD.
In Barden Tower with me, I greatly fear.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Bravely confessed. This candour gives me courage
To charge your lordship further, as the cause,
In some part, of these troubles.

LORD CLIFFORD.
How!

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Excuse me.
You did deny the means—

LORD CLIFFORD.
What means, my lord?
My towers were open, and my tables free.
Aught else, sir, a poor Baron like myself—

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Well, well, no more. Broad lands in hill and dale,
In chase and greenwood, and perchance some gold
That hath not seen the sun of late, will make
Fresh drafts on your exchequer needless. Come—

LORD CLIFFORD.
Indeed we're much beholden to your lordship.
But why not tell me of the part that 'scape-grace
Bore in these doings?

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I conceived it better
To let the hank unravel of itself,
At your judicial winding. And I had,
Besides, a wish to note the interest
Waked in my sister's bosom, for myself;
And well your scrutiny did serve that wish.

LORD CLIFFORD.
Nay, now that was a cruelty, my lord,
Which, had I been aware of it, you should not
Have had the chance to practise.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Tush! my sister
Will thank me for it in a week. My brother,
That is to be, would thank me for it now,
Did he suspect it to be work of mine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Library, as before. Ladies Margaret and Emma, with Cathleen, are discovered in earnest conversation (aside) with Grey, Fenwick, and Roddam. To them enter D'Eston, Farrand, &c. from one side, and Lords Percy and Clifford from the other.
LORD CLIFFORD
(to a SERVANT behind).
Bid them dismiss the prisoners. 'Tis just,
If we forgive the Head that moved the whole,
To save the Hand that was impelled by it.

LADY MARGARET
(passionately).
Then He is safe!

LORD CLIFFORD.
Lady, I know not that.
He hath so far disgraced his name and birth,
Dishonoured so his breeding, that my duty
Compels me to acquaint his Sovereign with it,
And leave him in the royal hand.

LADY MARGARET.
O! then
I pray you, take this ring. It was the gift
Of England's lord to my unhappy father;
Nor hath it lost its virtue by the passage
Through these poor hands. Have it conveyed to him,
And should the King be stern, let him produce it,—
It may, with Margaret Percy's prayer to aid it,
Become a talisman to save him!

LORD CLIFFORD.
Lady,
His penance will be slight, thy zeal befriending.
But keep the relic for another suit.
The monarch loves my Son, will, for his sake,
O'erlook a fault or two—

LADY MARGARET.
O! will he use
His influence, and make me his servant ever!

LORD CLIFFORD.
His Wife, sweet Lady, was't not that you meant?

LADY MARGARET.
Hear me, Lord Clifford! I have due respect
For you; and feel, I trust, sufficient sense
Of th'honour you intend me; but—

LORD CLIFFORD
(to NORTHUMBERLAND).
Odsfish!
How's this, my lord? Another trick of thine?
Come, come, no more of it. Dear Lady, trust
I am not in this business.
[To a Servant.
Tell my Son
To hasten hither. Thou shalt see him, Lady;
And then thy mind shall be at liberty
To choose or to reject him.

[Enter Henry.
LADY MARGARET.
Brother, this
Hath been thy scheme, and Emma, thine, too. Well,
I can forgive.

HENRY
(takes her hand and kneels).
Here let me claim thy promise.
You see me as “at Linhope's wild cascade,
Where the North saw her Chivalry.”—I dare not
Repeat the compliment; but here I am,
Nor false, nor outlawed, yet a shepherd's son,
The son of that good man, a Shepherd once,
And my name Henry, to which you may now
Add that of Clifford.
[Leads her to Lord Clifford.
Henry Clifford begs
Thy pardon, and thy blessing!

NORTHUMBERLAND
(leading LADY EMMA to him).
Good your lordship,
Bestow your blessing here, too.

RODDAM
(leading CATHLEEN to him).
If a page
Might dare presume so far, I, too, would ask it.

LADY MARGARET.
No bolder spirit lives than thine, young Roddam,
And honour were your meed in any rank.

LORD CLIFFORD.
This weakness o'the eye—well, well.
[To Henry.
Young sir,
I had roughdrawn a letter, to be laid
Before the King, detailing these excesses,
Which, now that all's forgiven, I will burn.

HENRY.
No, keep it, father. Lay it in the archives
Of our old House. Perchance a future age
May find it, and thence learn, that there was once
A Clifford who exemplified the truth—
That 'tis a perilous experiment
To raise a LAWLESS POWER, whate'er the end
We mean to reach by it. 'Tis a machine
Which he who made it, finds hard task to guide;
But should he leave it, RASH or WICKED hands
May seize the wheels, and urge their speed to Ruin!
[To the audience.
And now, if our kind judges deign to say
That Henry fairly hath acquitted him,
The Outlaw and his gallant band will proudly
And gratefully pursue their avocations,
By nightly levying willing Contributions!