University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

The Marshal's House.
Enter two Captains.
1 Cap.
May this be true that we are bidden so?

2 Cap.
I think it is.

1 Cap.
Did the king speak with you?

2 Cap.
No, the lord marshal.

1 Cap.
He is hot on this;
But did he tell you to be forth to-night?

2 Cap.
Before the chime of twelve.

1 Cap.
Why then we have
A broken four hours' work upon us yet
Between this time and that most bloody one.
There is a yellow point upon the sky
Where the last upper sun burns sideways out,
Scoring the west beneath.

2 Cap.
I see the mark:
It shines against the Louvre; it is nigh gone.

1 Cap.
Yea, the strong sun grows sick; but not to death.
Which side have you to take?

2 Cap.
The south side, I.

1 Cap.
I to the west. Would this were really through.

2 Cap.
Who gave you news o' the office?

1 Cap.
Maurevel.

2 Cap.
O, he that hurt the admiral some days back?
That plague-botch of the Guisards?

1 Cap.
Yea, the same:
I had a mind to strike him in the mouth.

2 Cap.
Why had you so? you have the better place.

1 Cap.
O, sir, in such hard matters he does best
Who does not most. I had rather be a dog,
One half unleashed to feed on bitten orts
Than have his post herein.

2 Cap.
Whose? Maurevel's?

1 Cap.
Even his; for he has carved him a broad piece
Out of the body of this wounded town.

2 Cap.
What, does the work so startle you? for me,
I hold it light as kissing a girl's head.

1 Cap.
If they should face us, well; but to put knives
Into their peaceable and sleeping beds—

2 Cap.
You talk too like a fool. I loathe so far
Their slow lank ways of envious gravity,
Their sparing pride and lavish modesty,
Cunning so tempered with hot insolence
As in that Pardaillan—in him or him—
I say I do abhor them, and in my soul
I think there's no priest half so glad as I
To rid them out of wrong doing. We are
Most kind to them; for give their sin more space,
Each year should heap up hell upon their backs
And leave them hotter; whereas we rid them now
And they just die half-damned.

1 Cap.
You are merciful.

2 Cap.
I would be so; for him whose spleen is thick,
Made bitter and side-clogged with cruel use,
I hate as much as these.

1 Cap.
The marshal tarries;
I doubt there will be nothing done.

2 Cap.
You doubt?
Say you desire it; if you pray for it,
Shame not to answer your own hope.

1 Cap.
I do not;
I should be glad if all went out in speech
And never smutched our hands with smoke thereof.

2 Cap.
This is your poor and barren piety
That mercy calls offence, and law doth put
Rebuke upon. I do not praise it in you.

1 Cap.
Do you mislike it?

2 Cap.
If I should say I did—

1 Cap.
What then?

2 Cap.
I did you nothing less than right.

1 Cap.
You will not say so.

2 Cap.
By your head, I do;
I will and do.

1 Cap.
This will take time to mend.

2 Cap.
Mend it your way; take time to patch it with;
My hand shall not be slack. Here comes the marshal.

Enter Tavannes.
Tav.
Now, sirs, how are your men disposed? have you
Had pains with them?

1 Cap.
Mine gave no pains at all.

Tav.
Why, well; I would the temper of such men
Were made the habit of all France. Sir, yours?

2 Cap.
I may say better of them; I could not
So eagerly give tongue to my desire
But they did grasp it first; such emulous haste
To jostle speech aside with the push of act
I have not known.

Tav.
Good; they do hunger, then?

2 Cap.
Sir, most impatiently.

Tav.
Their galls are hot?

2 Cap.
Enough to burn out patience from the world.

Tav.
Such I would have; good dogs, keen in the feet,
Swoln in the spleens of them; 'tis very good.
Your presence flags, sir.

1 Cap.
Mine, my lord?

Tav.
Ay, sir.
You have the gait of an unmaiden'd girl
That carries violence in her girdle. Humph!
I do not relish it.

1 Cap.
My lord—

Tav.
Ay, what?
Speak your own way; make answer; nay, be swift.

1 Cap.
My lord, you have not known me blink or blench
In the red face of death; no peril hath
Put fear upon my flesh, altered the heat
That colours on my cheek the common blood
To a dead sickness or a bruise of white;
Nor doth it now.

Tav.
No, doth not? are you sure?

1 Cap.
You do not think so.

Tav.
Nay, there's no peril in't.
But you had more; make out the worst; get on.

1 Cap.
Truly I have a motion in my blood
Forbidding such a matter to receive
Smooth entertainment there; I would be fain
To shift the service off; my fellow here
Knows I regard it something loathfully.

Tav.
Ay, do you, sir?

2 Cap.
Indeed he said so.

Tav.
Said?

2 Cap.
But I do know him for a noble man
That would acknowledge all things honourably,
Commune with no base words, nor wear such office
As cowards do; I must report him such.

Tav.
You must! I pray show me what humour then
Crosses him thus at point.

2 Cap.
I will not think.

Tav.
Sir, you that have such tender make at heart,
That wear a woman in your blood, and put
Your mother on your cheeks—you that are pure,
That will not fail—you piece of dainty talk—
Pluck me this halting passion from your heart,
Or death shall nail it there.

1 Cap.
I do not fear you, sir.

Tav.
Observe me, sir; I do not use to threat;
Either take up your office for this time
And use it honourably, or I will leave you
No place at all. What sort of fool are you
To start at such a piece of lawful work
As is the manage of more noble hands
Than are familiar with your beard? You are
Too gross a fool.

1 Cap.
My lord, you wrong me much.

2 Cap.
Sir, you push far; he is a gentleman.

Tav.
The devil shall make a better of strawn dung;
I do proclaim him for a thief, a coward,
A common beggar of safe corner-holes,
A chamber hireling to wash pots—Begone,
I will not bear such knaves. Take you his place.
Go, go, eat scraps.

1 Cap.
Sir, you shall do me right.

Tav.
I say thou art a knave, a side-stair thief—
God's precious body! I am sick with anger
That such a pad of slack worm-eaten silk
Should wear the name of any soldiership.
Give up thine office.

1 Cap.
You do yourself much shame.

[Exit.
Tav.
Fie on him, rag! frayed velvet face! I'd beat him
But for pure shame. So, is he gone? Make after
And push him out at door. Take you his place.
Attend me presently.

2 Cap.
My lord, I shall.

[Exeunt.