MAR.

Why talk thus?

Whate'er the monster brooding in your breast

I care not: fear I have none, and cannot fear –

 

The sound of a horn is heard.

 

That horn again – 'Tis some one of our Troop;

What do they here? Listen!

OSW.

What! dogged like thieves!

 

Enter Wallace and Lacy, etc.

 

LACY.

You are found at last, thanks to the vagrant Troop

For not misleading us.

OSW looking at Wallace.

That subtle Grey-beard –

I'd rather see my father's ghost.

LACY to Marmaduke.

My Captain,

We come by order of the Band. Belike

You have not heard that Henry has at last

Dissolved the Barons' League, and sent abroad

His Sheriffs with fit force to reinstate

The genuine owners of such Lands and Baronies

As, in these long commotions, have been seized.

His Power is this way tending. It befits us

To stand upon our guard, and with our swords

Defend the innocent.

MAR.

Lacy! we look

But at the surfaces of things; we hear

Of towns in flames, fields ravaged, young and old

Driven out in troops to want and nakedness;

Then grasp our swords and rush upon a cure

That flatters us, because it asks not thought:

The deeper malady is better hid;

The world is poisoned at the heart.

LACY.

What mean you?

WAL whose eye has been fixed suspiciously upon Oswald.

Ay, what is it you mean?

MAR.

Harkee, my Friends; –

 

Appearing gay.

 

Were there a Man who, being weak and helpless

And most forlorn, should bribe a Mother, pressed

By penury, to yield him up her Daughter,

A little Infant, and instruct the Babe,

Prattling upon his knee, to call him Father –

LACY.

Why, if his heart be tender, that offence

I could forgive him.

MAR going on.

And should he make the Child

An instrument of falsehood, should he teach her

To stretch her arms, and dim the gladsome light

Of infant playfulness with piteous looks

Of misery that was not –

LACY.

Troth, 'tis hard –

But in a world like ours –

MAR changing his tone.

This self-same Man –

Even while he printed kisses on the cheek

Of this poor Babe, and taught its innocent tongue

To lisp the name of Father – could he look

To the unnatural harvest of that time

When he should give her up, a Woman grown,

To him who bid the highest in the market

Of foul pollution –

LACY.

The whole visible world

Contains not such a Monster!

MAR.

For this purpose

Should he resolve to taint her Soul by means

Which bathe the limbs in sweat to think of them;

Should he, by tales which would draw tears from iron,

Work on her nature, and so turn compassion

And gratitude to ministers of vice,

And make the spotless spirit of filial love

Prime mover in a plot to damn his Victim

Both soul and body –

WAL.

'Tis too horrible;

Oswald, what say you to it?

LACY.

Hew him down,

And fling him to the ravens.

MAR.

But his aspect,

It is so meek, his countenance so venerable.

WAL with an appearance of mistrust.

But how, what say you, Oswald?

LACY at the same moment.

Stab him, were it

Before the Altar.

MAR.

What, if he were sick,

Tottering upon the very verge of life,

And old, and blind –

LACY.

Blind, say you?

OSW coming forward.

Are we Men,

Or own we baby Spirits? Genuine courage

Is not an accidental quality,

A thing dependent for its casual birth

On opposition and impediment.

Wisdom, if Justice speak the word, beats down

The giant's strength; and, at the voice of Justice,

Spares not the worm. The giant and the worm –

She weighs them in one scale. The wiles of woman,

And craft of age, seducing reason, first

Made weakness a protection, and obscured

The moral shapes of things. His tender cries

And helpless innocence – do they protect

The infant lamb? and shall the infirmities,

Which have enabled this enormous Culprit

To perpetrate his crimes, serve as a Sanctuary

To cover him from punishment? Shame! – Justice,

Admitting no resistance, bends alike

The feeble and the strong. She needs not here

Her bonds and chains, which make the mighty feeble.

– We recognise in this old Man a victim

Prepared already for the sacrifice.

LACY.

By heaven, his words are reason!

OSW.

Yes, my Friends,

His countenance is meek and venerable;

And, by the Mass, to see him at his prayers! –

I am of flesh and blood, and may I perish

When my heart does not ache to think of it! –

Poor Victim! not a virtue under heaven

But what was made an engine to ensnare thee;

But yet I trust, Idonea, thou art safe.

LACY.

Idonea!

WAL.

How! what? your Idonea?

 

To Marmaduke.

 

MAR.

Mine;

But now no longer mine. You know Lord Clifford;

He is the Man to whom the Maiden – pure

As beautiful, and gentle and benign,

And in her ample heart loving even me –

Was to be yielded up.

LACY.

Now, by the head

Of my own child, this Man must die; my hand,

A worthier wanting, shall itself entwine

In his grey hairs! –

MAR to Lacy.

I love the Father in thee.

You know me, Friends; I have a heart to feel,

And I have felt, more than perhaps becomes me

Or duty sanctions.

LACY.

We will have ample justice.

Who are we, Friends? Do we not live on ground

Where Souls are self-defended, free to grow

Like mountain oaks rocked by the stormy wind.

Mark the Almighty Wisdom, which decreed

This monstrous crime to be laid open – here,

Where Reason has an eye that she can use,

And Men alone are Umpires. To the Camp

He shall be led, and there, the Country round

All gathered to the spot, in open day

Shall Nature be avenged.

OSW.

'Tis nobly thought;

His death will be a monument for ages.

MAR to Lacy.

I thank you for that hint. He shall be brought

Before the Camp, and would that best and wisest

Of every country might be present. There

His crime shall be proclaimed; and for the rest

It shall be done as Wisdom shall decide:

Meanwhile, do you two hasten back and see

That all is well prepared.

WAL.

We will obey you.

 

Aside.

 

But softly! we must look a little nearer.

MAR.

Tell where you found us. At some future time

I will explain the cause.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Act III

Scene, The Door of the Hostel, a group of Pilgrims as before; Idonea and the Host among them.

 

HOST.

Lady, you'll find your Father at the Convent

As I have told you: He left us yesterday

With two Companions; one of them, as seemed,

His most familiar Friend.

 

Going.

 

There was a letter

Of which I heard them speak, but that I fancy

Has been forgotten.

IDON to Host.

Farewell!

HOST.

Gentle pilgrims,

St. Cuthbert speed you on your holy errand.

 

Exeunt Idonea and Pilgrims.

 

Scene, A desolate Moor.

 

Oswald (alone.

 

OSW.

Carry him to the Camp! Yes, to the Camp.

Oh, Wisdom! a most wise resolve! and then,

That half a word should blow it to the winds!

This last device must end my work. – Methinks

It were a pleasant pastime to construct

A scale and table of belief – as thus –

Two columns, one for passion, one for proof;

Each rises as the other falls: and first,

Passion a unit and against us – proof –

Nay, we must travel in another path,

Or we're stuck fast for ever; – passion, then,

Shall be a unit for us; proof – no, passion!

We'll not insult thy majesty by time,

Person, and place – the where, the when, the how,

And all particulars that dull brains require

To constitute the spiritless shape of Fact,

They bow to, calling the idol, Demonstration.

A whipping to the Moralists who preach

That misery is a sacred thing: for me,

I know no cheaper engine to degrade a man,

Nor any half so sure. This Stripling's mind

Is shaken till the dregs float on the surface;

And, in the storm and anguish of the heart,

He talks of a transition in his Soul,

And dreams that he is happy. We dissect

The senseless body, and why not the mind? –

These are strange sights – the mind of man, upturned,

Is in all natures a strange spectacle;

In some a hideous one – hem! shall I stop?

No. – Thoughts and feelings will sink deep, but then

They have no substance. Pass but a few minutes,

And something shall be done which Memory

May touch, whene'er her Vassals are at work.

 

Enter Marmaduke, from behind.

 

OSW turning to meet him.

But listen, for my peace –

MAR.

Why, I believe you.

OSW.

But hear the proofs –

MAR.

Ay, prove that when two peas

Lie snugly in a pod, the pod must then

Be larger than the peas – prove this – 'twere matter

Worthy the hearing. Fool was I to dream

It ever could be otherwise!

OSW.

Last night,

When I returned with water from the brook,

I overheard the Villains – every word

Like red-hot iron burnt into my heart.

Said one, »It is agreed on.