Francis the First An Historical Drama |
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 | Francis the First |  |
SCENE I.
—A COURT OF THE LOUVRE.Enter Vendôme and Chabannes, meeting the Duke of Alençon.
VENDÔME.
Good morrow to my lord of Alençon!
ALENÇON.
Good morrow, noble sir. My lord Chabannes,
You are right welcome back to court again:
I pray you, Vendôme, is the King return'd
From tennis yet?
VENDÔME.
My lord, as I pass'd through
The gallery, I saw the royal train
Dismount, and now the King holds private converse
With the Queen's confessor: a moment since,
I saw them both enter the Queen's apartment,
In very earnest and impassion'd talk;
And, as I think, the duke de Bourbon's name
Full many a time escaped their anxious lips.
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The Queen's confessor!—what! old Father Jerôme?
ALENÇON.
Oh no! old Father Jerôme, rest his soul,
Is dead. This man (between ourselves I speak it),
To me, seems rather a mysterious minister,
And secret instrument, than a confessor.
VENDÔME.
Strange to say, he is a Spaniard,
And, stranger yet, he hath not been at court
But a brief space, which renders his estate
(Being so trusted by the Queen) a riddle,
Whereat we guess in vain. She is not wont
To doff her wariness on slight acquaintance;
Yet is this monk for ever with her; holding
In full possession her most secret counsels.
CHABANNES.
To me, my lords, who newly am returned
To court, all this seems passing strange indeed:
With greater wonder though, Vendôme, I learn
De Bourbon is recall'd from Italy.
ALENÇON.
'Tis not the absent only are amazed,
You do but share the wonder of the town;
All note the strange event, none know the cause;
And we have yet to learn what fault or folly—
VENDÔME.
Your pardon, sir, but 'tis not very like
That the young hero, who at Marignan
Did deeds of war and wisdom so combine,
3
His merit, now should fail in either point.
ALENÇON.
This problem, sir,
Surpasses my poor wit; and all I know
Is, that the duke is coming home again;
And that an eager expectation runs
Before his path, to see how he will bear
This sudden mandate, and how be received
At court.
CHABANNES.
Look, here comes one in haste, methinks,
That should be my old friend and comrade
Triboulet.
Enter Triboulet.
TRIBOULET.
Gentles, beseech ye leave me passing room;
Most worshipful sir, I am right glad to see you!
CHABANNES.
That is a joy reciprocal.
Good fool, how hast thou fared, since last we parted?
TRIBOULET.
Indifferent well, my lord; I thank ye, though very
indifferent; but still as well as may be considering tides
and times, and things as they were, and things as they
are, and sundry other things—heigh ho!
CHABANNES.
What! melancholy, eh! poor fellow?
4
Oh! sir, very melancholy. I should think I was
dying in right earnest, an it were not—
ALENÇON.
That he eats like a pig, and sleeps like a dormouse.
TRIBOULET.
Sir, your comparisons are very beastly, and that's the
best that can be said of them.
ALENÇON.
The best is bad, and far from civil, then.
TRIBOULET.
The farther from civil, the nearer to your speech.
CHABANNES.
There, never anger thee at truth, good fool:—
But tell me where that foul fiend Melancholy
Hath driven the damask of thy rosy cheeks?
VENDÔME.
Marry, it needs no search into his nose:
Which juts from out the main land of his face,
Like some peak'd promontory, on whose verge
The beacon light its warning blaze advances.
ALENÇON.
Well, but what makes thee sad?
TRIBOULET.
E'en that which makes you glad.
ALENÇON.
And what is that, sir Fool?
TRIBOULET.
The Lord High Constable's return, sir Duke.
[D'Alençon turns on his heel, and walks up the stage with Vendôme.
5
My lord of Alençon, you have your answer—
And why doth that affect thee?
TRIBOULET.
Why, sir, thus:
The Duke de Bourbon is a worthy gentleman,
Fine fighter, wise statesman, and great fool—
CHABANNES.
How now, sir Triboulet, a fool!—a man who gives
His blood—
TRIBOULET.
To the earth.
CHABANNES.
And his counsel—
TRIBOULET.
To the air.
CHABANNES.
For his country—
TRIBOULET.
No, for that
(snaps his fingers)
; why how ye stare, is
it not so?—And doth not the event prove that he was a
fool?
CHABANNES
(aside).
O wisdom! thou hast kissed the lips of idiots,
And gemm'd the motley with thy precious pearls!
[Alençon and Vendôme appear to be observing some one in the distance—they come forward.
ALENÇON.
Oh yes, 'tis he! now, by this living light,
There is no nauseous reptile crawls the earth
That I so loathe as this same Bonnivet!
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Is that De Bonnivet, that plumed thing!
So sparkling and so brave in his attire,
Who treads disdainfully the upholding earth?
TRIBOULET.
Oh, that he hath done long on all his upholders.
CHABANNES.
Is that the brother of King Francis' tutor,
Whom I remember well a page at court?
ALENÇON.
Sir, he is now the King's prime minister.
CHABANNES.
Sir!—tut—impossible!
TRIBOULET.
He means the Queen's prime minister.
VENDÔME.
Why, aye, that's something nearer to the mark.
Enter De Bonnivet—he bows haughtily to them—they return his salute in the same manner.
TRIBOULET
(staring in his face).
He hath a very bright eye, and a very high brow, and
very handsome teeth—
(While he says this, De Bonnivet
threateningly obliges him to retreat step by step, until he
gets behind Vendôme, when he adds)
—By reason of all
which, no woman need miscarry that looks at him.
DE BONNIVET.
(Aiming a blow at Triboulet with his glove).
Hold thy fool's tongue!
7
(Showing himself from behind Alençon.)
That we may listen to thine? Now, for aught I
know, thou mayst be the most learned of the two, seeing
thy brother was a pedagogue.
[De Bonnivet draws his sword, and rushes upon Triboulet; Vendôme and Chabannes hold him back. D'Alençon places himself before Triboulet.
VENDÔME.
For manhood, sir, put up your sword: he knows not
what he says.
CHABANNES.
He is a fool! an idiot!
TRIBOULET.
The King's fool, sir, the King's fool, and no idiot!
BONNIVET.
King's fool or not, he shall not fool 't with me,
Or, by the Lord! I'll make him find his brains.—
TRIBOULET.
Sir, if you knock them out, I bequeath them to you;
you're poor in such commodities.
BONNIVET.
Unhand me, lords!—
Enter Margaret de Valois, followed by Clement.
MARGARET.
How now, what coil is here! My lords, I thought not
To meet foul discord in such company.
Gentlemen, if a lady's voice hath power
To win your hands from their ungentle purpose,
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And now, what, may I ask, in this assembly
Was cause of such affray?
TRIBOULET.
My wit, sweet mistress.
CLEMENT.
Then drew thy wit more points than e'er it utter'd.
MARGARET.
Truly such origin doth honour to your quarrel.
And if whole nations fought for ten long years
For no more cause than a light woman's love,
We well may pardon, nay approve, four heroes
Who fall to fighting on a jester's words.
ALENÇON.
Madam, your words are sharp, and came they not
From lips, where soft sweet smiles have made their home,
They would, indeed, be terrible: but now,
We even bless reproachful oracles
That breathe from such a shrine.
TRIBOULET
(aside to him).
Oh, excellent!
Where didst thou con that dainty speech, I pray thee?
[Alençon pushes him angrily away, Margaret bows to Vendôme, and extends her hand to Chabannes.
MARGARET.
Most worthy sir, you're welcome back again
To our fair court.
CHABANNES.
Lady, can you rejoice
9
Doth spring cry welcome to the hoary winter?
MARGARET.
Oh, sir, your winter so hath crown'd itself
With bays and laurels—glorious evergreens,
Still smiling in the sunshine of fair fame,
That 'tis but like a second, longer spring,
Born of the growth of years destin'd to flourish
As bright and fresh for ever.—Who is that,
Standing behind my Lord of Alençon?
I pray you, sir, come forth into the light,
Unless the shame of your encounter—
BONNIVET
(kneeling to kiss her hand).
It was not shame, but the broad dazzling sun,
That shone so fully in my sight, fair lady,
That I was fain to shade my eyes.
MARGARET.
Indeed!
You said the same last night, if you remember,
After the sun had set.
BONNIVET.
Oh, when
Do those bright orbs, his rivals, cease to shed
Such floods of light?—when will those beaming eyes
Grant respite, which the sunset gives us not?
CLEMENT
(aside to Triboulet).
He understands the business, doth he not?
MARGARET.
These eyes, I trust, are far less powerful—
Their sphere is bounded, happily for you;
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It hath a narrow compass, you may find
Relief from such a radiance easily.
TRIBOULET
(aside to Clement).
I'faith, and she understands it, too,—see how she waves him off.
MARGARET.
Chabannes,
Will not the tournay that my brother holds
To-day, in honour of the Duke's return,
Be favour'd by your presence?
CHABANNES.
Gracious Madam,
We all intend, as I believe, to be there:
I to look on, and criticise as age
Ever will do, drawing comparisons,
'Twixt that which is, and that which hath been once.
MARGARET.
Envious comparisons! say, are they not?
Surely the world alters not every day,
That those, who play'd their parts but some score years
Gone by, should cry out, ‘How the times are alter'd!’—
I do appeal to thy philosophy;
Say, is it so, Chabannes?
CHABANNES.
In sober truth, then, in philosophy,
Since thus your Grace commands, I do believe
That at our feet the tide of time flows on
In strong and rapid course; nor is one current
Or rippling eddy liker to the rest,
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Men still are men, the stream is still a stream,
Through every change of changeful tide and time;
And 'tis, I fear, only our partial eye
That lends a brighter sunbeam to the wave
On which we launch'd our own advent'rous bark.
MARGARET.
Oh fair confession! thou'rt but half a soldier—
CHABANNES.
But half a soldier, and no more, fair madam.
TRIBOULET.
Listen: one quarter of a good soldier is valour, the
second quarter prudence, and the remaining half (the
biggest half by far) wrong-headedness:—now, lacking the
latter half, thou art, as the princess saith, but half a
soldier.
MARGARET.
Why so; I am content my meaning thus
Should be interpreted, although 'twas not
My thought. Come thou with me, sir Fool,
I've business for thee in the Banquet-hall:
You, gentlemen, farewell, until the tournay;
'Till then, all good attend you, and I pray
Keep the king's peace, an it be possible.
[Exeunt Margaret, Clement, and Triboulet on one side; the rest on the other.
| Francis the First | |