A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Two/Ethwald - Part First Act 4
ACT IV.
SCENE I. An apartment in a royal castle. Ethwald is discovered sitting in deep meditation by the side of a couch, with a lamp burning by him on a high stand; the rest of the stage entirely dark.
Ethw. Why am I haunted with these thoughts? What boots it
That from their weak and priest-beridden king
The soldiers turn distasteful, and on me
In mutter'd wishes call? What boots all this?
Occasion fairly smiles, but I am shackled.
Elsewhere I needs must turn my climbing thoughts—
But where? The youthful see around them spread
A boundless field of undetermin'd things,
Towering in tempting greatness;
But, to the closer scan of men matured,
These fade away, and in the actual state
Of times and circumstances each perceives
A path which doth to his advancement lead,
And only one; as to the dazzled eye
Of the night rev'ller, o'er his emptied bowl,
The multiplied and many whirling lights
Do shrink at last into one single torch,
Shedding a steady ray. I see my path;
But what is that to me? my steps are chain'd.
Amongst the mighty great, the earth's high lords,
There is no place for me! I must lie down
In the dark tomb with those, whose passing brightness
Shines for a while, but leaves no ray behind.
(throws himself half upon the couch and groans heavily.)
Enter Boy.
Boy. My Lord, my Lord! (Ethw. lifts up his head and looks sternly at him.)
Are you unwell, my Lord?
Ethw. What dost thou want?
Boy. I could not sleep; and as I list'ning lay
To the drear wind that whistles thro' these towers,
Methought I heard you groan like one in pain.
Ethw. Away, and go to sleep: I want thee not:
I say, be gone, (sternly.)(Exit Boy.
(he pauses awhile, then sighs very deeply.)
He hangs upon me like a dead man's grasp
On the wreck'd swimmer's neck—his boyish love
Was not my seeking; it was fasten'd on me,
And now it hath become an iron band
To fetter down my powers. O that I were
Amidst the warlike and ungentle cast
To strive uncumber'd! What have I to do
With soft affection? (soften'd) Yet it needs must be!
His gen'rous love: his brave ungrudging love:
His manly gentle love—O that he had
Mine equal friend been born, who in my rise
Had fair advancement found, and by my side
The next in honour stood!
He drags me to the earth! I needs must lay
My head i'the dust.—Dull hopeless privacy!
My soul from it recoils: unto my nature
It is the death of death, horrid and hateful
(Starting up eagerly.) No, in the tossed bark,
Commander of a rude tumultuous crew,
On the wild ocean would I rather live;
Or in the mined caverns of the earth
Untamed bands of lawless men controul,
By crime and dire necessity enleagued;
Yea, in the dread turmoil of midnight storms,
If such there be, lead on the sable hosts
Of restless sprites, than say to mortal man
"Thou art my master."
Enter Boy.
Boy. O pardon me, my Lord! I am in fear:
Strange sounds do howl and hurtle round my bed;
I cannot rest.
Ethw. Begone, thou wakeful pest! I say, begone!
(Exit Boy.
(Ethw. walks several times across the stage and then pauses.)
Yet in my mind one ever-present thought
Rises omnipotent o'er all the rest,
And says, "thou shalt be great."
What may this mean? before me is no way.
What deep endued seer will draw this veil
Of dark futurity? Of such I've heard,
But when the troubled seek for them they are not
Re-enter Boy.
Boy. (falling at his feet.) O, my noble master!
If you should slay me I must come to you;
For in my chamber fearful things there be,
That sound i'the dark; O do not chide me back!
Ethw. Strange sound within thy chamber, foolish wight!
Boy. (starting) Good mercy, list!
Ethw. It is some night-bird screaming on the tower.
Boy. Ay, so belike it seemeth, but I know—
Ethw. What dost thou know?
Boy. It is no bird, my Lord.
Ethw. What would'st thou say?
Boy. (clasping his hands together and staring earnestly in Ethw.'s face.)
At dead of night, from the dark Druid's cave
Up rise unhallow'd sprites, and o'er the earth
Hold for the term their wicked rule. Aloft,
Some mounted on the heavy sailing cloud,
Oft pour down noisome streams or biting hail
On the benighted hind, and from his home
With wayward eddying blasts still beat him back.
Some on the waters shriek like drowning men,
And, when the pitying passenger springs forth
To lend his aid, the dark flood swallows him.
Some on lone marshes shine like moving lights;
And some on towers and castle turrets perch'd,
Do scream like nightly birds, to scare the good,
Or rouse the murd'rer to his bloody work.
Ethw. The Druid's cave, say'st thou? What cave is that?
Where is it? Who hath seen it? What scar'd fool
Has fill'd thine ears with all these horrid things?
Boy. It is a cavern vast and terrible,
Under the ground full deep; perhaps, my Lord,
Beneath our very feet, here as we stand;
For few do know the spot and centre of it,
Tho' many mouths it has and entries dark.
Some are like hollow pits bor'd thro' the earth,
O'er which the list'ning herdsman bends his ear,
And hears afar their lakes of molten fire
Swelt'ring and boiling like a mighty pot.
Some like straight passes thro' the rifted rocks,
From which oft' issue shrieks, and whistling gusts,
And wailings dismal. Nay, some, as they say,
Deep hollow'd underneath the river's bed,
Which shew their narrow op'nings thro' the fern
And tangling briars, like dank and noisome holes
Wherein foul adders breed. But not far hence
The chiefest mouth of ail, 'midst beetling rocks
And groves of blasted oaks, gapes terrible.
Ethw. So near? But who are they who dwell within?
Boy. The female high arch Druid therein holds,*[1]
With many Druids tending on her will,
(Old, as they say, some hundred years or more)
Her court, where horrid spells bind to her rule
Spirits of earth and air.
Ethw. Ay, so they tell thee,
But who is he that has held converse with her?
Boy. Crannock, the bloody prince, did visit her,
And she did shew to him the bloody end
Whereto he soon should come; for all she knows
That is, or has been, or shall come to pass.
Ethw. Yes, in times past such intercourse might be,
But who has seen them now?
Boy. Thane Ethelbert.
Ethw. (starting.) What, said'st thou Ethelbert?
Boy. Yes, truly; oft he goes to visit them,
What time the moon rides in her middle course.
Ethw. Art thou assured of this?
Boy. A youth who saw him issue from the cave,
'Twas him who told it me.
Ethw. Mysterious man!
(after a pause.) Where sleeps the Thane?
Boy. If walls and doors may hold him,
He sleeps, not distant, in the Southern Tower.
Ethw. Take thou that lamp and go before me, then.
Boy. Where?
Ethw. To the Southern Tower. Art thou afraid?
Boy. No, my good Lord, but keep you close behind.
(Exeunt Boy, bearing the lamp and looking often behind to see that Ethw. is near him.)
SCENE II. A small gallery or passage with a door in front, which is open'd, and enter Ethwald and Ethelbert with a lamp in his hand.
Eth. Then, by the morrow's midnight moon we meet
At the Arch Sister's cave: till then, farewel!
Ethw. Farewel! I will be punctual.(Exit.
Eth. (looking after him for some time before he speaks.)
It ever is the mark'd propensity
Of restless and aspiring minds to look
Into the stretch of dark futurity.
But be it so: it now may turn to good.
(Exit, returning back again into the same chamber from which he came.)
SCENE III. A wide arched cave, rude but grand, seen by a sombre light; a small furnace burning near the front of the stage. Enter Ethwald and Ethelbert, who pause and look round for some time without speaking.
Ethw. Gloomy, and void, and silent!
Eth. Hush!
Ethw. What hearest thou?
Eth. Their hollow sounding steps. Lo! see'st thou not?
(Pointing to the further end of the stage, where from an obscure recess enter three Mystics robed in white, and ranged on one side of the stage, point to Ethwald: whilst from another obscure recess enter three Mystic Sisters, and ranged on the opposite side point to Eth. then from a mid recess enters the Arch Sister, robed also in white, but more majestic than the others, and a train of Mystics and Mystic Sisters behind her. She advances half-way up the stage, then stops short, and points also to Ethwald.
(All the Mystics, &c. speaking at once.)
Who art thou?
Arch Sist. I know thee who thou art; the hand of Mercia:
The hand that lifts itself above the head.
I know thee who thou art.
Ethw. Then haply ye do know my errand too.
Arch Sist. I do; but turn thee back upon thy steps
And tempt thy fate no farther.
Ethw. From the chaf'd shore turn back the swelling tide!
I came to know my fate, and I will know it.
1st. Mystic. Must we call up from the deep centre's womb
The spirits of the night and their dread Lord?
1st Myst. S. Must we do that which makes the entombed dead
From coffins start?
Ethw. Raise the whole host of darkness an ye will,
But I must be obey'd.
(The Arch Sister shrieks, and, throwing her mantle over her face, turns to go away.)
Ethw. If there is power in mortal arm to hold you,
Ye stir not hence until I am obey'd.
1st Mystic. And how compellest thou?
Ethw. With this good sword.
1st Mystic. Swords here are children's wands of no avail:
There, warriour, is thy weapon.
Ethw. Where, Mystic? say.
1st Mystic. (pointing to the furnace.) Behold within that fire
A bar of burning iron! pluck it forth.
Ethw. (resolutely.) I will.
(goes to the furnace, and putting in his hand, pulls out what seems a red hot bar of iron.
Arch Sist. (throwing of her mantle.)
Thou has subdued me; thou shalt be obey'd.
Ethw. (casting away the bar.)
Away thou paltry terrour!
Arch Sist. (to Ethw.) We now begin our rights: be firm, be silent.
(She stretches forth her hand with a commanding air, and the Mystics and Mystic Sisters begin their incantations at the bottom of the stage, moving round in several mazy circles one within another. Fire is at last seen flashing from the midst of the inner circle, and immediately they all begin a hollow muttering sound, which becomes louder and louder, till at length it is accompanied with dismal sounds from without, and distant music, solemn and wild.)
Ethw. (grasping Ethelbert's hand.) What dismal sounds are these?
'Tis like a wild responsive harmony,
Tun'd to the answ'ring yells of damned souls.
What follows this? Some horrid thing! Thou smilest:
Nay, press thy hand, I pray thee, on my breast;
There wilt thou find no fear.
Eth. Hush! hear that distant noise.
Ethw. 'Tis thunder in the bowels of the earth.
Heard from afar.
Arch Sist. (holding up her hand.) Mystics, and Mystic Maids, and leagued bands!
The master spirit comes: prepare.
(All repeat after her) Prepare.
1st Mystic. Hark! thro' the darken'd realms below,
Thro' the fiery region's glow,
Thro' the massy mountain's core,
Thro' the mines of living ore;
Thro' the yawning caverns wide,
Thro' the solid and the void;
Thro' the dank and thro' the dry,
Thro' th' unseen of mortal eye;
Upon the earthquakes secret course, afar
I hear the sounding of thy car:
Sulphureous vapours load the rising gale;
We know thy coming; mighty master, hail!
(They all repeat.) Mighty master, hail!
(The stage darkens by degrees, and a thick vapour begins to ascend at the bottom of the stage.)
2d Mystic. Hark, hark! what murmurs fill the dome!
Who are they who with thee come?
Those who, in their upward flight,
Rouse the tempests of the night:
Those who ride in flood and fire;
Those who rock the tumbling spire:
Those who on the bloody plain,
Shriek with the voices of the slain:
Those who thro' the darkness glare,
And the sleepless murd'rer scare:
Those who take their surly rest
On the troubl'd dreamers breast:
Those who make their nightly den
In the guilty haunts of men.
Thro' the heavy air I hear
Their hollow trooping onward bear:
The torches shrinking flame is dim and pale;
I know thy coming; mighty master, hail!
(All repeat again.) Mighty. master, hail!
(The stage becomes still darker, and a thicker vapour ascends.)
3d Mystic. Lo! the mystic volumes rise!
Wherein are lapt from mortal eyes
Horrid deeds as yet unthought,
Bloody battles yet unfought:
The sudden fall and deadly wound
Of the tyrant yet uncrown'd;
And his line of many dyes
Who yet within the cradle lies.
Moving forms, whose stilly bed
Long hath been among the dead;
Moving forms, whose living morn
Breaks with the nations yet unborn,
In mystic vision walk the horrid pale:
We own thy presence; mighty master, hail!
(All.) Mighty master, hail!
(Enter from the farther end of the stage crowds of terrible spectres, dimly seen through the vapour, which now spreads itself over the whole stage. All the Mystics and Mystic Sisters bow themselves very low, and the Arch Sister, standing alone in the middle, bows to all the different sides of the cave.)
Ethw. (to 1st Mystic.) To every side the mystic mistress bows,
What meaneth this? mine eye no form perceives:
Where is your mighty chief?
1st Mystic. Above, around you, and beneath.
Ethw. Has he no form to vision sensible?
1st Mystic. In the night's noon, in the winter's noon. In the lustre's noon:
Of times twice ten within the century's round
Is he before our leagued bands confess'd
In dread appearance:
But in what form or in what circumstance
May not be told; he dies who utters it.
(Ethw. shrinks at this and seems somewhat appalled. The Arch Sister, after tossing about her arms and writhing her body in a violent agitation, fixes her eyes, like one waked from a dream, stedfastly upon Ethw. then going suddenly up to him grasps him by the hand with energy.)
Arch Sist. Thou who would'st pierce the deep and awful shade
Of dark futurity, to know the state
Of after greatness waiting on thy will,
For in thy power acceptance or rejection
Is freely put, lift up thine eyes and say,
What see'st thou yonder.
(pointing to a dark arched opening in the roof of the cave, where an illuminated crown and sceptre appears.)
Ethw. (starting.) Ha! e'en the inward vision of my soul,
In actual form pourtray'd! (his eyes bright'ning wonderfully.)
Say'st thou it shall be mine?
Arch Sist. As thou shalt chuse.
Ethw. I ask of thee no more.
(stands gazing upon the appearance till it fades away.)
It says, perhaps, my greatness shall be short.
Arch Sist. I speak to thee no further than I may,
Therefore be satisfied.
Ethw. And I am satisfied. Dread mystic maid,
Receive my thanks.
Arch Sist. Nay, Ethwald, our commission ends not here,
Stay, and behold, what follows.
(the stage becomes suddenly dark, and most terrible shrieks, and groans, and dismal lamentations are heard from the farther end of the cave.)
Ethw. What horrid sounds are these?
Arch Sist. The varied voice of woe, of Mercia's woe:
Of those who shall, beneath thine iron hand,
The cup of mis'ry drink. There dost thou hear
The dungeon'd captives sighs, the shrilly shrieks
Of childless mothers and distracted maids;
Mix'd with the heavy groans of dying men:
The widow's wailings, too; and infant's cries—
(Ethw. stops his ears in horrour.)
Ay, stop thine ears; it is a horrid sound.
Ethw. Forfend that e'er again I hear the like!
What didst thou say? O, thou didst foully say!
Do I not know my nature? heav'n and earth
As soon shall change
(A voice above.) Swear not!
(A voice beneath.) Swear not!
(A voice on the same level but distant.) Swear not!
Arch Sist. Now, once again and our commission ends.
Look yonder, and behold that shadowy form.
(pointing to an arched recess, across which bursts a strong light, and discovers a crowned phantom, covered with wounds, and representing by its gestures one in agony. Ethw. looks and shrinks back.)
Ethw. A miserable man: his breast is pierced
With many wounds, and yet his gestures seem
The agony of a distracted mind
More than of pain.
Arch Sist. But wears he not a crown?
Ethw. Why does it look so fix'dly on me thus?
What are its woes to me?
Arch Sist. They are thy own.
Know'st thou no traces of that alter'd form,
Nor see'st that crowned phantom is thyself?
Ethw. shudders (then, after a pause.)
I may be doom'd to meet a tyrant's end
But not to be a tyrant.
Did all the powers of hell attest the doom,
I would belie it. Know I not my nature?
By every dreaded power and hallow'd thing
(Voice over the stage.) Swear not!
(Voice under the stage.) Swear not!
(Distant voice off the stage.) Swear not!
A thundering noise is heard under ground. The stage becomes instantly quite dark, and Mystics and Spirits, &c. disappear, Ethw. and Eth, remaining alone)
Eth. (after a pause.) How art thou?
Ethw. Is it thy voice? O, let me feel thy grasp!
Mine ears ring strangely, and my head, methinks,
Feels as I were bereaved of my wits.
Are they all gone? Where is thy hand, I pray?
We've had a fearful bout!
Eth. Thy touch is cold as death: let us ascend
And breathe the upper air.*[2](Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A forest. Enter Ethwald with a bow in his hand, and a Boy carrying his arrows.
Ethw. (looking off the stage) Ha! Alwy, soon return'd! and with him comes
My faithful Ongar.
(Enter Alwy and Ongar with bows also, as if in quest of sport, by the opposite side.)
Go, Boy; I shot mine arrow o'er those elms,
Thou'lt find it far beyond.(Exit Boy.)
Now, friend, what tidings?
Alwy. Within the tufted centre of the wood
The friendly chiefs are met, thus, like ourselves,
As careless ramblers guised, all to a man
Fix'd in your cause. Their followers too are firm;
For, much disgusted with the monkish face
Their feeble monarch wears, a warlike leader,
Far, far inferior to the noble Ethwald,
May move them as he lists.
Ethw. That time and circumstances on me call
Imperiously, I am well assured.
Good Ongar, what say'st thou? how thrives thy part
Of this important task?
Ong. Well as your heart could wish. At the next council
Held in the royal chamber, my good kinsman
Commands the guard, and will not bar our way.
Ethw. May I depend on this?
Ong. You may, my Lord.
Ethw. Thanks to thee, Ongar! this is noble service.
And shall be nobly thank'd. There is, good Alwy,
Another point; hast thou unto the chiefs
Yet touch'd upon it?
Alwy. Yes, and they all agree 'tis most expedient
That with Elburga's hand, since weaker minds
Are blindly wedded to the royal line,
Your right be strengthen'd.
Ethw. And this they deem expedient?
Alwy. You sigh, my lord; she is, indeed, less gentle
Ethw. Regard it not, it is a passing thought,
And it will have its sigh, and pass away.
(turning away for a little space , and then coming forward again)
Selred and Ethelbert may be remov'd?
For faithful to the royal line they are,
And will not swerve: their presence here were dang'rous;
We must employ them in some distant strife.
Alwy. I have devis'd a plan, but for the means
Brave Ongar here stands pledged. Woggarwolfe,
Who once before unweetingly has served us,
Will do the same again.
Ethw. How so? they say, that on a sick-bed laid,
And with the torment of his wounds subdu'd,
Since his last fray, in the transforming hands
Of artful monks, he has become most saintly.
Alwy. Well, but we trust his saintship ne'ertheless
May still be lur'd to do a sinner's work.
To burn the castle of a hateful heretic
Will make amends for all his bloody deeds:
You catch the plan? Nay, Hexulf and his priest
Will be our help-mates here. Smile not; good Ongar
Has pledged his word for this.
Ethw. And I will trust to it. This will, indeed,
Draw off the Thanes in haste. But who is near?
Sculking behind yon thicket stands a man,
See'st thou.(pointing off the stage.)
Alwy. Go to him, Ongar, scan him well,
And, if his face betrays a list'ner's guilt—
Thou hast thy dagger there?
Ong. Yes, trust me well.
Ethw. Nay, Ongar, be not rash in shedding blood!
Let not one drop be spilt that may be spar'd.
Secure him if he wear a list'ner's face:
We are too strong for stern and ruthless caution.
(Exit Ongar.
I'm glad he is withdrawn a little space,
Ere we proceed to join the leagued chiefs.
Hast thou agreed with Cuthbert? Is he sure?
Alwy. Sure. 'Tis agreed when next the Ethllng hunts,
To lead him in the feigned quest of game
From his attendants; there, in ambush laid,
Cuthbert and his adherents seize upon him,
And will conduct him with the ev'ning's close
To Arrick's rugged tower. All is prepar'd.
Ethw. But hast thou charged him well that this be done
With all becoming care and gentleness,
That nothing may his noble nature gall
More than the hard necessity compels?
Alwy. Do not mistrust us so! your brow is dark:
At Edward's name your changing countenance
Is ever clouded.(Ethw. turns from him agitated.)
You are disturb'd, my Lord.
Ethw. I am disturb'd. (turning round and grasping Alwy by the hand.)
I'll tell thee, Alwy—yes, I am disturb'd—
No gleam of glory thro' my prospect breaks,
But still his image, 'thwart the brightness cast,
Shades it to night.
Alwy. It will be always so, but wherefore should it?
Glory is ever bought by those who earn it
With loss of many lives most dear and precious.
So is it destin'd. Let that be unto him
Which in the crowded breach or busy field
All meet regardless from a foe-man's hand.
Doth the still chamber, and the muffled tread,
And th' unseen stroke that doth th' infliction deal,
Alter its nature?
Ethw. (pushing Alwy from him vehemently, and putting up both his hands to his head)
Forbear! forbear! I shut mine eyes, mine ears,
All entrance bar that may into my mind
Th' abhorred thing convey. Have I not said.
Thou shalt not dare in word, in look, in gesture;
In slightest indication of a thought,
Hold with my mind such base communication?
By my sword's strength! did I not surely think
From this bold seizure of the sov'reign power,
A power for which I must full dearly pay,
So says the destiny that o'er me hangs,
To shield his weakness, and restore again
In room of Mercia's crown a nobler sway,
Won by my sword, I would as liefNorthumberland
Invites my arms, and soon will be subdu'd:
Of this full sure a good amends may be
To noble Edward made.
Alwy. (who during the last part of Ethw's speech has been smiling behind his back malignantly)
O yes, full surely:
And wand'ring harpers shall in hall and bower
Sing of the marv'llous deed.
Ethw. (turning short upon him and perceiving his smile)
Thou smilest methinks.
Full well I read the meaning of that look:
Tis a fiend's smile, and it will prove a false one.
(turning away angrily, whilst Alwy walks to the bottom of the stage.)
Most needful to me.(aloud, advancing to him)
Good Alwy, anxious minds will often chide
(Aside, stopping short.) He hears me not, or is it but a feint?
Alwy. (looking off the stage) Your arrow-boy returns.
Ethw. (aside, nodding to himself) No, 'tis a free and unoffended voice;
I'm wrong. This is a bird whose fleshed beak,
The prey too strongly scents to fly away:
I'll spare my courtesies (aloud) What say'st thou, Alwy?
Alwy. (pointing) Your arrow-boy.
Ethw. I'm glad he is return'd.
Re-enter Boy.
Boy. No where, my Lord, can I the arrow find.
Ethw. Well, boy, it matters not; let us move on.
(Exeunt.
SCENE V. A narrow gallery in an abbey or cloister, with several doors opening into it. Enter Hexulf and Ongar, and Two Monks.
Hex. Fear not, brave Ongar, we will quickly act
Upon thy hint; for our own wishes also,
Ay, and the churches' good thereto are join'd.
First Monk. This is the time when he should walk abroad.
(listening) I hear him at his door.
Hex. Leave us, good Ongar.
Ong. To your good skill I do commit it then;
Having but only you, most rev'rend father,
To take my part against this wizard Thane.
First Monk. (still listening) Begone, he issues forth.
(Exit Ongar.
(one of the doors open slowly, and enters Woggarwolfe, wrapped in a cloak and his head bound.)
Hex. Good-morrow, valiant Thane, whose pious gifts
Have won heay'n's grace to renovate thy strength,
And grant thee longer life, how goes thy health?
Wog. I thank you, rev'rend father, greatly mended.
First Monk. The prayers of holy men have power to save,
E'en on the very borders of the tomb,
The humbled soul who doth with gifts enrich
The holy church.
Second Monk. Didst thou not feel within thee
A peaceful calm, a cheering confidence,
Soon as thy pious offering was accepted?
Wog. (hesitating.) Yes, rev'rend fathers,—I have thought indeed—
Perhaps you meant it so—that since that time
The devil has not scar'd me in my dreams
So oft as he was wont, when sore with wounds
I first was laid upon my bed of pain.
Hex. Ay, that is much; but, noble Woggarwolfe,
Thinkest thou not the church doth merit well
Some stable gift, some fix'd inheritance?
Thou hast those lands that are so nearly join'd
Unto St. Alban's abbey.
Wog. (much surprised.) My lands! give up my lands?
First Monk. What are thy lands
Compared to that which they will purchase for thee?
Sec. Monk. To lay thy coffin'd body in the ground.
Rob'd in the garb of holy men and bless'd?
First Monk. To have thy tomb beneath the shading arch
Of sacred roof, where nought profane may enter;
Whilst midnight spirits stand and yell without,
But o'er the sacred threshold dare not trespass,
Wog. (with a rueful countenance.)
What, do you think I shall be dead so soon?
Hex. Life is uncertain; but how glorious, Thane,
To look beyond this wicked world of strife.
And for thyself provide a lofty seat
With saints and holy men and angel bands!
Wog. Nay, father, I am not so highly bent;
Do but secure me from the horrid fangs
Of the terrific fiend: I am not proud;
That will suffice me.
Hex. Nay, herein thy humility we praise not,
And much I fear, at such a humble pitch,
He who so lately scar'd thee in thy dreams
May reach thee still.
First Monk. O think of this!
Hex. Dreadful it is, thou know'st,
To see him in thy dreams; but when awake,
Naked, and all uncloth'd of flesh and blood,
As thou at last must be; how wilt thou bear
To see him yelling o'er thee as his prey?
Bearing aloft his dark and hideous form;
Grinding his horrid jaws and darting on thee
His eyes of vivid fire? (The Monks sign themselves with great marks of fear, and Woggarwolfe looks terrified.)
That many gifts, ay, half of all thou'rt worth
Would dearly purchase safety from such terrours?
Wog. (in a quick perturbed voice.)
I have the plunder of two neighb'ring chiefs,
Whom I surpris'd within their towers and slew;
I'll give you all—if that suffices not
I'll fall upon a third, ay tho' it were
My next of kin, nor spare of all his goods
One fragment for myself. O holy fathers!
I humbly crave saintly protection of you.
Hex. Nay, Woggarwolfe, on shrines of holy saints
No gift e'er works with efficacious power
By force and violence gain'd; unless, indeed,
It be the spoil of some unsaintly Thane,
Some faithless wizard or foul heretic.
Thou hast a neighbour, impious Ethelbert;
To burn his towers and consecrate his spoils,
O'er all thy sins would cast a sacred robe,
On which nor fiend nor devil durst fix a fang.
But now thou lackest strength for such a work,
And may'st be dead ere thou hast time to do it;
Therefore I counsel thee, give up thy lands.
Wog. O, no! I'm strong enough: my men are strong.
Give us your rev'rend blessing o'er our heads
And we'll set out forthwith.
Hex. Then nothing doubt that on your worthy zeal
Will fall the blessing. Let us onward move.
Where are thy followers? (Exeunt Hex. talking busily to Wog. and the Monks smiling to one another as they go out.)
SCENE VI. The royal apartment: the King is discovered with Hexulf, the Seneschal, and several Friends or Counsellors, seated round a council table.
King. (as if continuing to speak.)
It may be so: youth finds no obstacle,
But I am old.
Full many a storm on this grey head has beat;
And now, on my high station do I stand,
Like the tired watchman in his air-rock'd tower,
Who looketh for the hour of his release.
I'm sick of worldly broils, and fain would rest
With those who war no more. One gleam of light
Did sweetly cheer the ev'ning of my day:
Edward, my son! he was the kindliest prop
That age did ever rest on—he is gone,
What should I fight for now?
Sen. For thine own honour; for the weal of Mercia.
With weapons in our hands, and strong in men,
Who to the royal standard soon will flock,
If summon'd by thy firm and gen'ral orders,
Shall these men be our master's? Heaven forfend!
Five thousand warriours might disperse the foe,
Even with that devil Ethwald at their head;
And shall we think of granting to those rebels
Their insolent demands?
King. Good Seneschal, if that you think our strength
Permits us still in open field to strive
With hope of good, I am not yet so old
But I can brace these stiffen'd limbs in iron,
And do a soldier's service. (to 2d Coun.) Thane of Mordath,
Thy visage light'neth not upon these hopes;
What are thy thoughts?
Sec. Coun. E'en that these hopes will bring us to a state
'Reft of all hope.
The rebel chiefs but seek their own enrichment,
Not Ethwald's exaltation, good, my Lord;
Bribe them and treat for peace. Lack you the means;
The church, for whose enriching you have rais'd
This storm, can well supply it; and most surely
Will do it cheerfully. (turning to Hexulf.)
Hex. No, by the holy mass! that were to bring
The curse of heav'n upon our impious heads.
To spoil the holy church is sacrilege:
And to advise such spoil in anywise
Is sacrilegious and abominable.
First Coun. I am as faithful to the holy church
As thou art, angry priest. I do defy thee—
Sen. What have ye no respect unto the king?
I do command you, peace. Who now intrudes?
Enter a Servant in great terrour.
Serv. The rebel force! the castle is surprised!
They are at hand—they have overpower'd the guard.
Sec. Coun. Pray God thou liest! I think it cannot be.(they all rise up alarmed.)
Serv. It is as true as I do tread this spot.
Enter a Soldier wounded.
King. (to Sol.) Ha! what say'st thou? thou bearest for thy words a rueful witness.
Sol. Take arms and save the king if it be possible.
The rebel chieftains have the gates surprised,
And gain'd, below, the entrance of this tower.
They struggled for the pass; sharp was the broil,
And this speaks for me, I have born my part.
(falls down exhausted.)
Hex. (to King.) Retire, my Lord, into the higher chamber.
Your arm can give but small assistance here.
Until this horrid visit be o'erpast,
You may conceal yourself.
King. No, father, never shall the king of Mercia
Be, from his hiding-place, like a mean man
Pull'd forth. But, noble friends, it seems not wise
That this necessity should reach to you.
These rebels seek my life, and with that life
They will be satisfied. In my defence,
Thus taken as we are, all stand were useless;
Therefore if you will still, 'tis the last time,
Obey your king, retire and save your lives
For some more useful end. Finding me here,
They will no farther search: retire, my friends.
Sec. Coun. What, leave our king to face his foes alone!
King. No, not alone; my friend the Seneschal
Will stay with me. We have been young together,
And the same storms in our rough day of life
Have beat upon us: now, be it God's will,
We will lay down our aged heads together
In the still rest, and bid good night to strife.
Have I said well, my friend?
(holding out his hand to the Seneschal.)
Sen. (kissing his hand with great warmth, and putting one knee to the ground.)
O my lov'd master! many a bounteous favour
Has shower'd upon me from your royal hand,
But ne'er before was I so proudly honour'd.
(rising up with assumed grace.)
Retire, young men, for now I must be proud;
Retire, your master will confront the foes
As may become a king.
(All calling out at once.) No, no! we will not leave him.
(they all range themselves, drawing their swords, round the King, and the old Seneschal stands, by pre-eminence, close to his master's side.)
Sec. Coun. Here is a wall thro' which they first must force
A bloody way, ere on his royal head
One silver hair be scath'd.
Enter Ethwald, Alwy, and the Conspirators.
Alwy. Now vengeance for injustice and oppression!
Sec. Conn. On your own heads, then, be it, miscreant chiefs!
(they fight round the King: his party defend him bravely, till many more Conspirators enter, and it is overpowered)
Ethw. (aside, angrily, to Alwy, on still seeing the King standing in the midst, unhurt, and with great dignity, the Seneschal by his side, and no one offering to attack him.
Is there no hand to do the needful work?
This is but children's play. (to some of his party.)
Come, let us search, that in the neighb'ring chamber,
No lurking foe escape. (Exit with some Followers.
Alwy. (giving a sign to his Followers, and going up insolently to the King.)
Oswal, resign thy sword.
Sen. First take thou mine, thou base ignoble traitor.
(Giving Alwy a blow with his sword, upon which Alwy and his Followers fall upon the King and the Seneschal, and surrounding them on every side, kill them, with many wounds, the crowd gathering so close round them, that their fall cannot be seen.)
(Re-enter Ethwald, and the crowd opening on each side, shews the dead bodies of the King and the Seneschal.
Ethw. (affecting surprise.) What sight is this?
Ah! ye have gone too far. Who did this deed?
Alwy. My followers, much enraged at slight offence,
Did fall upon him.
Ethw. All have their end decreed, and this, alas,
Has been his fated hour.
Come chiefs and valiant friends, why stand we here
Looking on that which cannot be repair'd?
All honour shall be paid unto the dead.
And, were this deed of any single hand
The willing crime, he should have vengeance too.
But let us now our nightly task fulfil;
Much have we still to do ere morning dawn.
(Exeunt Ethw. and Followers, and the scene closes.)
SCENE VII. A royal apartment: Enter Elburga, with her hair scattered upon her shoulders, and with the action of one in violent grief, followed by Dwina, who seems to be soothing her.
Elb. Cease, cease! thy foolish kindness sooths me not;
My morning is o'ercast; my glorv sunk;
Leave me alone to wring my hands and weep.
Dwi. O, no, my princely mistress! grieve not thus!
Over our heads the blackest clouds do pass
And brighter follow them.
Elb. No, no! my sky is night! I was a princess,
Almost a queen: in gorgeous pomp beheld,
The public gaze was ever turn'd on me;
Proud was the highest Thane or haughtiest dame
To do my bidding, ev'ry count'nance watch'd
Each changeful glance of my commanding eye
To read its meaning: now my state is changed;
Scoffing and insult and degrading pity
Abide the daughter of a murder'd king.
Heaven's vengeance light upon them all! Begone!
I hate the very light for looking on me!
Begone and sooth me not!
Dwi. Forgive me, princess; do not thus despair;
King Oswal's daughter many friends will find.
Elb. Friends! hold thy peace!—Oh it doth rend my heart!
I have been wont to talk of subjects, vassals,
Dependants, servants, slaves, but not of friends.
Where shall I hide my head?
Dwi. Surely, dear mistress, with Saint Cuthbert's nuns,
Whose convent by your father's gifts is rich,
You will protection find. There quiet rest,
And holy converse of those pious maids,
After a while will pour into your mind
Soft consolation. (putting her hand on Elburga's soothingly.)
Elb. (pushing her away.)
Out upon thee, fool! Go speak thy comforts
To spirits tame and abject as thyself:
They make me mad; they make me thus to tear
My scatter'd locks and strew them to the winds.
(tearing her hair distractedly.)
Enter a Servant.
Ser. Ethwald, the king, is at the gate, and asks
To be admitted to your presence, princess.
Elb. (becoming suddenly calm.)
What, Ethwald, say'st thou? say'st thou truly so?
Ser. Yes, truly, princess.
Elb. Ethwald, that Thane whom thou dost call the king?
Ser. Yes, he whom all the states and chiefs of Mercia
Do call the king.
Elb. He enters not. Tell him I am unwell,
And will not be disturb'd.(Exit Ser.
What seeks he here? Fie, poorly fainting soul!
Rouse! rouse thee up! To all the world beside
Subdued and humbled would I rather be
Than in the eyes of this proud man.
Re-enter Ser.
Is he departed?
Ser. No, he will not depart, but bids me say,
The entrance he has begg'd he now commands,
I hear his steps behind me.
Enter Ethwaid.
(Elburga turns away from him proudly.)
Ethw. Elburga, turn and look upon a friend.
Elb. (turning round haughtily, and looking on him with an assumed expression of anger and scornful contempt.)
Take thou a look that well beseems thy worth.
And hie thee hence, false traitor!
Ethw. Yes, I will hie me hence, and with me lead
A fair and beauteous subject to my will;
That will which may not be gainsaid. For now
High heaven, that hath decreed thy father's fall,
Hath also me appointed king of Mercia,
With right as fair as his; which I'll maintain,
And by the proudest in this lordly realm
Will be obey'd, even by thy lofty self.
Elb. Put shackles on my limbs, and o'er my head
Let your barr'd dungeons lowr; then may'st thou say,
"Walk not abroad," and so it needs must be:
But think'st thou to subdue, bold as thou art,
The lofty spirit of king Oswal's daughter?
Go bind the wild winds in thy hollow shield,
And bid them rage no more: they will obey thee.
Ethw. Yes, proud Elburga, I will shackle thee,
But on the throne of Mercia shalt thou sit,
Not in the dungeon's gloom.
Ay, and, albeit the wild winds do refuse
To be subjected to my royal will,
The lofty spirit of king Oswal's daughter
I will subdue. (taking her hand.)
Elb. (throwing him off from her vehemently.)
Off with those bloody hands that slew my father!
Thy touch is horrid to me; 'tis a fiend's grasp;
Out from my presence! bloody Thane of Mairneath!
Ethw. Ay, frown on me, Elburga; proudly frown:
I knew thy haughty spirit, and I lov'd it,
Even when I saw thee first in gorgeous state;
When, bearing high thy stately form, thou stoodst
Like a proud queen, and on the gazing crowd,
Somewhat offended with a late neglect,
Darted thy looks of anger and disdain.
High Thanes and Dames shrunk from thine eye, whilst I,
Like one who from the mountain's summit sees,
Beneath him far, the harmless lightning play,
With smiling admiration mark'd thee well,
And own'd a kindred soul. Each angry flash
Of thy dark eye was loveliness to me.
But know, proud maid, my spirit outmasters thine,
And heedeth not the anger nor the power
Of living thing.
Elb. Bold and amazing man!
Ethw. And bold should be the man who weds Elburga.
Elb. Away! it cannot be, it shall not be!
My soul doth rise against thee, bloody chief,
And bids thy power defiance.
Ethw. Then art thou mine in truth, for never yet
Did hostile thing confront me unsubdued.
Defy me and thou'rt conquer'd.
Elb. Thou most audacious chief! it shall not be.
Ethw. It shall, it must be, maiden, I have sworn it;
And here repeat it on that beauteous hand
Which to no power but with my life I'll yield.
(grasping her hand firmly which she struggles to free.)
Frown not, Elburga; 'tis in vain to strive;
My spirit outmasters thine,
Elb. Say'st thou to me thou didst not slay my father?
Say'st thou those hands are guiltless of his death?
Ethw. Think'st thou I'll plead, and say I have not slain
A weak old man, whose inoffensive mind,
And strong desire to quit the warring world
For quiet religious rest, could be, in truth,
No hindrance to my greatness? were this fitting
In Mercia's king, and proud Elburga's lord?
Elb. (turning away.)
Elburga's lord! Thou art presumptuous, prince;
Go hence and brave me not.
Ethw. I will go hence forthwith; and, by my side,
The fair selected partner of my throne,
I'll lead where the assembled chiefs of Mercia
Wait to receive from me their future queen.
Elb. Distract me not!
Ethw. Resistance is distraction.
Who ever yet my fixed purpose cross'd?
Did Ethwald ever yield? Come, queen of Mercia!
This firm grasp shall conduct thee to a throne:
(taking her hand, which she feebly resists.)
Come forth, the frowning, haughty bride of Ethwald.
Elb. Wonderful man!
If hell or fortune fight for thee I know not,
Nothing withstands thy power.
(Exeunt Ethw, leading off Elb. in triumph, and Dwina following, with her hands and eyes raised to heaven in astonishment.)
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
- ↑ * It is natural to suppose that the Diviners or Fortune-tellers of this period should, in their superstitions and pretensions, very much resemble the ancient Druidesses who were so much revered amongst the Britons as oracles and prophetesses, and that they should, amongst the vulgar, still retain the name of their great predecessors. In Henry's History of Britain, vol, i. p.181 it will be found that the superstitious practices of the Druids continued long after their religion was abolished, and resisted for a long time the light of christianity; and that even so late as the reign of Canute, it was necessary to make laws against it.
- ↑ * I will not take upon me to say that, if I had never read Shakespeare's Macbeth, I should have thought of bringing Ethwald into a cavern under ground to enquire his destiny, though I believe this desire to look into futurity (particularly in a superstitious age) is a very constant attendant on ambition; but I hope the reader will not find in the above scene any offensive use made of the works of that great master.