University of Virginia Library

Scene 2.

Exterior of the castle. On one side, a terrace, with a low embattled parapet, hangs over the rock on which the castle is built, and admits a glimpse of the scene below. On another side, the ground stretches away into avenues and alleys. The castle thus seen, takes the character of a strong fortified hold.

N. B. The scene should present the space within a vast, but irregular embattled wall, large enough to enclose trees and undulating ground. The cloister, with the door leading to Lady Montreville's apartment, will form part of the building, and a gate of great strength, with portcullis, &c., should form a side scene. Through this gate, as the principal portal, will enter Lord Beaufort, and, towards the end of the act, Falkner.

Enter Sir Grey de Malpas from the terrace.
Lord B.
(speaking without.)
A noble falcon! Marsden, hood him gently.
Enter Lord Beaufort.
Good day, old knight, thou hast a lowering look,
As if still ruffled by some dire affray
With lawless mice, at riot in thy larder.

Sir G.
Mice in my house! magnificent dreamer, mice!
The last was found three years ago last Christmas,
Stretched out beside a bone; so lean and worn
With pious fast—'twas piteous to behold it;
I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine,
And set it in the porch—a solemn warning
To its—poor cousins! (Aside)
Shall I be avenged?
He killed my dog too.

Enter Vyvyan and Eveline, lingering in an alley in the background.
Lord B.
Knight, look there!—A stranger,
And whispering with my cousin.

Sir G.
(aside)
Jealous? Ha!
Something should come of this: Hail, green-eyed fiend!
(Aloud)
Let us withdraw—tho' old I have been young;
The whispered talk of lovers should be sacred.

Lord B.
Lovers!

Sir G.
Ah! true! You know not, in your absence
You mother hath received a welcome guest
In your fair cousin's wooer. Note him well,
A stalwart comely gallant.

Lord B.
Art thou serious?
A wooer to my cousin—quick, his name!

Sir G.
His name?—my memory doth begin to fail me—
Your mother will recall it. Seek—ask her—

Lord B.
(advancing)
Whom have we here? Familiar sir, excuse me,
I do not see the golden spurs of knighthood.

Vyv.
Alack, we sailors have not so much gold
That we should waste it on our heels! The steeds
We ride to battle need no spurs, Sir Landsman;

Lord B.
And overleap all laws; methinks thou art
One of those wild Sea Rovers who—

Vyv.
Refuse
To yield to Spain's proud tyranny, her claim
To treat as thieves and pirates all who cross
The line Spain's finger draws across God's ocean.
We, the Sea Rovers, on our dauntless decks
Carry our land, its language, laws, and freedom;
We wrest from Spain the sceptre of the seas,
And in the New World build up a new England.
For this high task, if we fulfil it duly,
The Old and New World both shall bless the names
Of Walter Raleigh and his bold Sea Rovers.

Lord B.
Of those names thine is—

Vyv.
Vyvyan.

Lord B.
Master Vyvyan,
Our rank scarce fits us for a fair encounter
With the loud talk of blustering mariners.
We bar you not our hospitality;
Our converse, yes. Go, ask the Seneschal
To lodge you with your equals!

Vyv.
Equals, stripling!
Mine equals truly should be bearded men,
Noble with titles carpet lords should bow to—
Memories of dangers dared, and service done,
And scars on bosoms that have bled for England!

Sir G.
Nay, coz, he has thee there. (withholding Lord Beaufort.)

Thou shalt not, Clarence.
Strike me. I'm weak and safe—but he is dangerous.

Enter Lady Montreville from the cloister as Lord Beaufort breaks from Sir Grey and draws his sword.
Evel.
Protect your guest from your rash son.

Lady M.
Thy sword
Drawn on thy—Back, boy! I command thee, back!
To you, sir guest, have I in aught so failed,
That in the son you would rebuke the mother?

Vyv.
Madam, believe, my sole offence was this,
That rated as a serf, I spoke as man.

Lady M.
Wherefore, Lord Beaufort, such unseemly humours?

Lord B.
(drawing her aside)
Wherefore?—and while we speak, his touch profanes her!
Who is this man? Dost thou approve his suit?
Beware!

Lady M.
You would not threaten—Oh, my Clarence,
Hear me—you—

Lord B.
Learned in childhood from my mother
To brook no rival—and to curb no passion.
Aid'st thou you scatterling against thy son,
Where most his heart is set?

Lady M.
Thy heart, perverse one?
Thou saidst it was not love.

Lord B.
That was before
A rival made it love—nay, fear not, mother,
If you dismiss this insolent;—but, mark me,
Dismiss him straight, or, by mine honour, madam,
Blood will be shed.

Lady M.
Thrice miserable boy!
Let the heavens hear thee not!

Lord B.
(whispering as he passes Vyvyan)
Again, and soon, sir!
[Exit Lord Beaufort.

Lady M.
(seeing Sir Grey)
Villain!—but no, I dare not yet upbraid—
(Aloud)
After him, quick! Appease, soothe, humour him.

Sir G.
Ay, madam, trust to your poor cousin.
[Exit Sir Grey.

Lady M.
Eveline,
Thou lov'st this Vyvyan?

Evel.
Lady—I—he saved
My life and honour.

Lady M.
Leave us, gentle child,
I would confer with him. May both be happy!

Evel.
(to Vyvyan).
Hush! she consents; well mayst thou bid me love her.
[Exit Eveline.

Lady M.
Sir, if I gather rightly from your speech,
You do not mean long sojourn on these shores?

Vyv.
Lady, in sooth, mine errand here was two-fold.
First, to behold, and, if I dare assume
That you will ratify her father's promise,
To claim my long affianced; next, to learn
If Heaven vouchsafe me yet a parent's heart.
I gained these shores to hear of war and danger—
The long-suspended thunderbolt of Spain
Threatened the air. I have despatched an envoy
To mine old leader, Drake, to crave sure tidings;
I wait reply: If England be in peril,
Hers my first service; if, as rumour runs,
The cloud already melts without a storm,
Then, my bride gained, and my birth tracked, I sail
Back to the Indian seas, where wild adventure
Fulfils in life what boyhood dreamed in song.

Lady M.
'Tis frankly spoken—frankly I reply.
First—England's danger: Now, for five slow years
Have Spain's dull trumpets blared their braggart war,
And Rome's grey monk-craft muttered new crusades;
Well, we live still—and all this deluge dies
In harmless spray on England's scornful cliffs.
And, trust me, sir, if war beleaguer England,
Small need of one man's valour: lacked she soldiers,
Methinks a Mars would strike in childhood's arm,
And woman be Bellona!

Vyv.
Stately matron,
So would our mother country speak and look,
Could she take visible image!

Lady M.
Claim thy bride
With my assent, and joyous gratulation.
She shall not go undowried to your arms.
Nor deem me wanting to herself and you
If I adjure prompt nuptials and departure.
Beaufort—thou see'st how fiery is his mood—
In my ward's lover would avenge a rival:
Indulge the impatient terrors of a mother,
And quit these shores. Why not this night?

Vyv.
This night?
With her—my bride?

Lady M.
So from the nuptial altar
Pledge thou thy faith to part—to spread the sail
And put wide seas between my son and thee.

Vyv.
This night, with Eveline!—dream of rapture! yet—
My birth untracked—

Lady M.
Delay not for a doubt
Bliss when assured. And, heed me, I have wealth
To sharpen law, and power to strengthen justice;
I will explore the mazes of this mystery;
I—I will track your parents.

Vyv.
Blessed lady;
My parents—find me one with eyes like thine,
And were she lowliest of the hamlet born,
I would not change with monarchs.

Lady M.
(aside)
Can I bear this?
Your Eveline well nigh is my daughter; you
Her plighted spouse; pray you this kiss—O, sweet!

[He sinks on his knee as she kisses his forehead.
Vyv.
Ah, as I kneel, and as thou bendest o'er me,
Methinks an angel's hand lifts up the veil
Of Time, the great magician, and I see
Above mine infant couch, a face like thine.

Lady M.
Mine, stranger!

Vyv.
Pardon me; a vain wild thought
I know it is; but on my faith, I think
My mother was like thee.

Lady M.
Peace, peace! We talk
And fool grave hours away. Inform thy bride;
Then to thy bark, and bid thy crew prepare;
Meanwhile, I give due orders to my chaplain.
Beside the altar we shall meet once more;—
And then—and then—Heaven's blessing and farewell!
[Exit Lady Montreville.

Vyv.
Most feeling heart! its softness hath contagion,
And melts mine own! Her aspect wears a charm
That half divides my soul with Eveline's love!
Strange! while I muse, a chill and ominous awe
Creeps thro' my veins! Away, ye vague forebodings!
Eveline! At thy dear name the phantoms vanish,
And the glad future breaks like land on sea,
When rain-mists melt beneath the golden morn.

Enter Falkner.
Falk.
Ha! Vyvyan!

Vyv.
Thou!

Falk.
Breathless with speed to reach thee.
I guessed thee lingering here. Thy foster sire
Hath proofs that clear the shadow from thy birth.
Go—he awaits thee where yon cloud-capt rock
Jags air with barbëd peaks—St. Kinian's Cliff.

Vyv.
My birth! My parents live?

Falk.
I know no more.

Enter Harding.
Hard.
Captain, the rumour lied. I bring such news
As drums and clarions and resounding anvils
Fashioning the scythes of reapers into swords,
Shall ring from Thames to Tweed.

Vyv.
The foeman comes!

Hard.
(giving letter.)
These lines will tell thee; Drake's own hand.

Vyv.
(reading.)
“The Armada
Has left the Groyne, and we are ranging battle.
Come! in the van I leave one gap for thee.”
Poor Eveline! Shame on such unworthy weakness!

Falk.
(taking him aside.)
Time to see her and keep thy tryst with Alton.
Leave me to call the crews and arm the decks.
Not till the moon rise, in the second hour
After the sunset, will the deepening tide
Float us from harbour—ere that hour be past
Our ship shall wait thee by St. Kinian's Cliff.
Small need to pray thee not to miss the moment
Whose loss would lose thee honour.

Vyv.
If I come not
Ere the waves reel to thy third signal gun,
Deem Death alone could so delay from duty,
And step into my post as o'er my corpse.

Falk.
Justly, my captain, thou rebuk'st my warning,
And couldst thou fail us, I would hold the signal
As if thy funeral knell—crowd every sail,
And know thy soul—

Vyv.
Was with my country still.

[Shouts without.
Enter Sub-officer, Sailors, Retainers, and Villagers, confusedly.
Sub-officer
(with broadsheet.)
Captain, look here. Just come!

Vyv.
The Queen's Address
From her own lips to the armed lines at Tilbury.

Voices.
Read it, sir, read it—

Vyv.