ACT II
Scene 1. A hall in the castle of Suli. Heavy doors open left, half-way up. Large window with iron grating, rear. Couches, chairs, scattered. Tables from which servants are removing the remnants of a feast. They are quarrelling, chaffing, singing, as the curtain risen.
First Ser. Shifty, there!
Second Ser. What, can't a soldier eat?
First Ser. You a soldier, lickspoon?
Second Ser. I've drawn a sword, sir!
First Ser. Ay, and cut a cheese.
Third Ser. [Lifting flask] Here's to——
Fourth Ser. [Seizing flask] No man shall guzzle my master's wine before me. [Drains vessel]
Third Ser. [Sadly, turning up empty flask] Not after you, either.
Fifth Ser. Well, well, and two moons back we were saying grace over ditch-water!
Sixth Ser. Ay, we were good Christians then. A full stomach makes lean prayers. Now we've such a plenty we can spare the devil a fillip, and never a grace for it.
First Ser. [Tugging at table] Take a leg there! This is no grasshopper. [Others help him move table to wall, right] Look about you! The maskers will be in here.
Second Ser. Here? They'll be everywhere to-night. Such a jig-making over the new prince!
Second Ser. Not a corner to drop into and sleep off a good supper with a clear conscience!
Sixth Ser. Sleep? What have we to do with sleep? We fight, we eat, we dance. That's my soldier!
Second Ser. We kill, we cut, we caper! [Sings]
The soldier rides on Fortune's wheel,
All. Round we go,
Round we go!
Second Ser. Now up the head and now the heel,
All. Round we go,
Round——
[Enter seventh servant]
Seventh Ser. Quiet, you devils! The master's coming.
Second Ser. What, can't a soldier sing? Haven't we fought like true men? When did we give quarter? When did we show mercy? And now can't we be happy? Can't we take breath?
Seventh Ser. Sh! and I'll tell you what I've seen. I've seen the daughter of Old Wisdom.
Sixth Ser. He get a daughter!
Seventh Ser. The maid of Kidmir. Ardia of the Stars they call her, but if the sun could shine in the middle of a dark night she would be like that.
First Ser. Foh, the Lady Berenice will put out her candle.
Seventh Ser. The Lady Berenice is as like her as the back of my hand to Juno's cheek!
First Ser. A heathen comparison! There's a Christian blow for it!
[They scuffle. Enter Oswald in talk with Bertrand. Servants finish their work quietly and go out]
Osw. My heart is whole again, now you've escaped
The claws of Kidmir.
Ber. Say the arms that closed
Like God's around me!
Osw. Fox, and lion too.
That's Charilus. I knew him young,—when blood
Tells nature's truth,—ere he had sucked
Philosophy's pale milk and made his truce
With prudence and long life. The heart then his
He carries now——
Ber. Then, sir, you must have known
The Maker's marvel,—youth that outstripped age
And grayest saints in virtue.
Osw. Tut! No matter.
You're safe. And he is here ... within these walls.
Ber. A guest of faith who holds your honor bound
High hostage for his life.
Osw. My honor? Trust me!
I'll care for that. No more I'll blush to lift
My shield i' the sun. The spot of thirty years
Shall be wiped out.
Ber. With love, my father?
Osw. [After a pause] Ay,
'Tis love shall do it.
Ber. [Lifting his father's hand to his lips]
You bind my heart to you.
Osw. Too soft, my warrior. Keep such woman's play
For Berenice. She will thank you for it.
I'm rough and old, and need the soldier clap
To start the singing blood. [Clapping Bertrand]
A blow with good
Red heart in 't!
Ber. Berenice?
Osw. Ah, that takes you!
She's here at last. Prince Frederick arrived
Three days ago, and with him his fair daughter,
Too dear of value to be left behind,
The prey of quarrelling kings. You'll dance with her
To-night.
Ber. You'll pardon me. I shall not dance.
Osw. Faugh, there's the monk again! Why, boy, we'll pray
The better for a little tripping,—fight
The better too. One dance with Berenice!
A beauty, sir, who makes me hate the years
That lie 'tween youth and me. She was to wed
A son of mine by vow above her cradle,
And I have buried every son save you.
Ber. May I not keep one vow?
Osw. The pope long since
Released you. Now——
Ber. My compact was with Christ.
Osw. Why cling to one when all the rest are broken?
Ber. It is the one lies wholly in my choice.
Osw. You left your cell.
Ber. Do you forget 'twas you
Who shook to ground my cloister walls, and locked
All holy doors against me?
Osw. True, I did it.
And with good warrant. Broadest Christendom
Upheld my right and gave me back my heir.
Small gain if you refuse to wed. My need
Is not for sons but grandsons now. My boy,
You'll let me see your children at my knee?
Ho, hide your face? Then there's a heart in you.
Why should I toil through blood and groans and fire
To make a name my shroud will wrap with me?
Ber. Toil then to give this land to God, and live
So long as love shall live in men.
Osw. Pale fame!
Have you no blood of mine? How could my fire
Father this sluggish monk? There was a maid
On Kidmir, Charilus' daughter, who has come
In wag of him, which speaks a fearless wench,—
She taught you nothing in those moons you passed
Upon her peaks?
Ber. Sir?
Osw. When I saw her face
Flash from her veil, I could have sworn
Your vow was drowned in her lake-eyes, and that
Her captured softness had made easy way
For royal Berenice. Now you talk
Out of your cowl——
Ber. Not so! I am a knight!
Your words have made me one! Now could I draw
This sword that knows not blood——
Osw. I'll bout with thee
For any woman. Come! Thou'lt be a man
Ere long. Come, sir!
Ber. You've set a foot most foul
Upon the flower of time!
Osw. It seems I've hit
The mark i' the very eye.
Ber. The whitest thought
That holds her first must shrive itself!
Osw. So, so!
Come, end the song. She's yours. 'Tis not the moon
You cry for, take an old man's word.
Ber. The moon
Were nearer to me!
Osw. Trrr-rrr-rr!
Ber. My lord?
Osw. A woman. Ask and have. I'll send her here.
This is the hour to bait you, and I'd not lose it
For half of Suli.
Ber. Stay! I will not see her.
I dare not look upon her lest I lose
Christ and myself.
Osw. Are you so tuned? We'll have
A wedding yet.
Ber. Forget that word, and I
Forgive you for it.
Osw. A wedding, prince of Suli.
This plain shall ring to Antioch.
Ber. Nay, father,—
And yet I thank you that your heart would make
So fair a maid my bride.
Osw. Fair? That's no word.
She's glory's darling pearl,—the morning's eye
That makes the night forgot! When you have seen her——
Ber. When I have seen her?
Osw. Ay,——
Ber. Do you not speak
Of Ardia?
Osw. Ardia! Gods! Wed Kidmir's trull?
Make me a doting grandsire to the heir
Of Charilus? Hear it, stars! Am I the fool
O' the earth? Give up my English forests, bare
My purse for troops, and foot by foot fight way
To Suli sands,—all this that I may set
A droning dotard's line upon a throne,
And be the ass of chronicle? O, poison!
Well, well, I'm done. The girl is fair enough.
And you shall have her if she pleases you.
But Berenice—there's your bride, my boy!
Ber. Wed Berenice? With that name you save me.
By that I see the darkness coiling deep
Along my bridal way. 'Twas Ardia's name
That lit the path till I dared let my eyes,
Though not my will, go venturing on 't.
Osw. My son,——
Ber. Never again, my father, speak to me
In this night's strain. Till morning I shall pray.
And then I fast. Good-night.
Osw. One moment. One!
The sunrise feast? Will you not be with us?
I drink with Charilus the cup of peace.
Ber. And love that breaks no peace?
Osw. [Assenting] See how you bend me?
All that you ask I give, but you to me
Yield nothing.
Ber. Sir, this sword, my knightly suit,
And princely title, make denial for me.
Osw. Your pardon. I forget you count it much
To give a crust and cell for this broad kingdom.
I who have paid my heart out for a crown
Must thank you now to wear it.
Ber. Good-night.
Osw. O, son,
Have you no patience with a man grown old
In many battles? Now feel I my age,
Knowing the dearest blows of my long life
Have bought me but this shadow. In you is drained
Ambition's heart,—my every burning aim
Fails here in you, and cools unforged, unshapen.
Yet do you turn from me as though 'twere I
Not you who gave the wound that parts us.
Ber. I?
Osw. Of all my sons I loved you best. You think
I gave you to the friars with no twinge
Here at my heart? Your mother said "One son
We must return to God," and I said "Yea,
So it be not my Bertrand." But her will
Ran 'gainst me. When she had her way, I longed
Through many a day to have you at my side,
While you were happy with your songs and saints,
Your father quite forgot.
Ber. [Stirred] Nay, not forgot.
And I am with you now.
Osw. O, let me feel
My son is mine! I'll yield you anything.
Ay, even Ardia! She shall be my daughter——
Ber. By heaven that keeps me true, I will not hear
That name again! There's maddest music in it.
I see her when I hear it. [Covering his eyes]
Osw. [Aside] I see the lime
Will catch you.
Ber. Again, good-night.
Osw. One favor, son.
And slight too, by 'r lady!
Ber. Speak it, sir.
Osw. I gave my word you'd wait on Berenice.
I' faith, I know not what excuse to make
To Frederick. 'Tis barest courtesy
To give her greeting.
Ber. I will welcome her,
Our guest.
Osw. Enough! [Going] You'll wait us here?
Ber. I'll wait.
[Exit Oswald. Bertrand sits with head bowed and does not heed maskers who enter and dance about him. They cover him with their garlands as they go off. A song is heard within]
What save winds shall kiss his bones
Bleaching on the desert stones?
What but waves o'er him shall sigh
Who doth drownèd sea-deep lie?
What save worms to him shall come
Locked in earth, bound, keyless, dumb?
Wild the wind and cold the wave,
Sharp the tooth within the grave!
Be such kisses for my ghost,
Heart, my Heart, when thou art lost!
Love me, Love, an hour and we
Mock the cold eternity!
Ber. [Taking up a flower] Eternity in this?
[Ardia enters. He does not see her until she speaks]
Ard. Prince Bertrand?
Ber. [Rising] You?
Not Berenice!
Ard. Ah ... you wait for her?
Ber. Who brought you here?
Ard. The earl. Your father.
Ber. He!
What said he?
Ard. That you prayed to see me, sir.
Ber. O, faithless! He deceived you.
Ard. I will go.
Ber. Stay—tell me—how you fare.
Ard. Nay, you await
The princess.
Ber. You've all comfort? No least lack?
Ard. I've food and bed, but little company.
Ber. My father's plans press hard, and I'm a part
Of them. Each hour he calls me.
Ard. I know, my lord,
This is not Kidmir. I've my father too.
You've yours ... and Berenice.
Ber. Nay, it seems
Fate hath her changelings. You have come, not she.
Ard. I sought no meeting, sir, but being here,
I'll ask you of my father. Is he safe?
Earl Oswald means no treachery to his guest?
Ber. At sunrise he will drink the cup of peace.
Ard. That's hours away! He knows your life is pledged
For Charilus' safety?
Ber. No. I will not wake
A doubt against his honor.
Ard. He should know.
I've seen his eyes. Good hap, you have your mother's.
Ber. If he be vile as you so fear he is,
My pledge would be no leash to his hold will.
He'd chain me here till he destroyed your brothers.
Let him know naught, I'm free to keep my oath.
But this should not be spoken. We do wrong
To talk of things that have no being save
In our own midnight fears.
Ard. Well, I shall sleep.
Good-night, my lord.
Ber. Am I not Vairdelan?
Ard. Ay, when you smile so.
[Holds out her hands, and drops them untouched]
Far, O far from Kidmir!
Ber. Yea, an eternal journey my lost soul
May find it. Ardia, counsel me. Two ways
Stretch long before me, and I faint
In daring either. Give me of your strength.
Ard. My strength? I have none.
Ber. You have God's.
Men, proud in valor, stray and lose his hand;
The woman holds it ever, walking floods
And trampling fire where men go down.
Ard. Tell me!
How may I help you?
Ber. Sit then. I will speak.
[She sits; He stands near her]
I have agreed to be the sovereign
Of sword-won Suli.
Ard. None will better serve
Where he is master. O, this spear-torn land
Shall flower to heaven and mate her bloom with stars!
Ber. A bloom that dies with me?
Ard. Death cannot make
The spirit barren.
Ber. [At distance] Through me my father hopes
To found a princely house o'er-topping Asia
With Christ-lit towers.
Ard. Oh!... Then you will wed.
Ber. [His eyes down] My bride is chosen.
Ard. [Rising] Chosen? [Sits again]
Nay.... I know....
Ber. [Returning] Your hidden eyes hide not the loathing there
For me forsworn. Why have I troubled you?
Look on me, Ardia. I am not yet fallen.
I take your answer. You have chosen my way,
And I set forth upon it—not forsworn.
Ard. That word is naught. I do not think of it.
Ber. Must man not keep his pledge?
Ard. To mortals, yes.
For so our lives are knit, and part to part
Keep sound and whole. But pledges unto God
Man cannot make or keep till he may bind
The Will that journeys with the launchèd world.
So might His rivers say "Here will we rest,
And worship thee," nor run into the sea,
And God must be content though all his fields
Burn waterless. So might the winds vow Him
Unbroken calm, and God who needs his storms
Must still his own desire while his dear earth
Goes pestilent.
Ber. Unsentient things! He shares
His will with man.
Ard. But not to enslave his own.
Christ seals no bond the lips lay on the soul
That is each instant new as life, as change,
As the importuning world. Ah, he who sells
To one hour's narrow need the zenith light
Of unborn days would snuff out time and know
No rising sun. Himself would be a slavedom
Where never Christ would walk.
Ber. Is 't Ardia speaks?
Ard. Truth speaks, not I. If man must vow,
Let it not be to love no woman,—wear
The vest of fire, and in a sunless cell
Chain Heaven-arteried life,—then peering out,
Cling to the nested eaves transfixed to see
His fled desires wear the horizon flame.
But let him vow his Christ shall shrink no vein
Of broad and pauseless being; ay,—shall keep
Sweet surgence with his blood, climb with his spirit
Time's lifting hills, and hold in watch with him
The unshrouding pinnacles where love puts off
The old clouds for the dawn. Forsworn? O, heart
Cell-bound, thy very vows deny thy Christ.
Who serve him wear no chains.
Ber. You think me true?
And yet I felt your wounded, doubting eyes
Raining me scorn. Why was it, Ardia?
Ard. Scorn?
I have forgot why 'twas—or shall forget.
Ber. And there was pity too, that dropped your lids.
And would have sheltered me. Is that forgot?
Ard. Nay, that.... I'll tell you that. I thought of Love,
Man's angel, and the heart-lone way of him
Who missed and found her not. Never to take
More courage from the fall of her sure feet
On heights that wind between death and the stars;
Or where his road burns through the shadeless sands,
Reach for the hand with fountains in its touch
And feel the palm-breath round him. Not to know
Her eyes when night is come, and there's no star;
Her breast, that pillowing the darkened waste,
Keeps warm the bitten earth and gives him dream
To meet and match the dawn. So wept my thoughts,
Forgetting that you are no wanderer,
But kingly housed will rule a tamèd realm.
Or should a harvest come of spears, not grain,
Yet is your princess brave and beautiful,
And bears, may be, a mating heart. Love then
Will come to you——
Ber. My princess?
Ard. Berenice.
Your father's choice ... and yours.
Ber. My Ardia! Mine!
Could such a lie creep to your soul and find
No lances at the door? [Kneels, kissing her hands]
My love, my love, my love!
Let honors fail, and stars forget my name,
'Tis thou shalt walk beside me, thou my chosen!
I'll hear thy footfall on the winter steep,
And take thy hand where desert noons are white,
But close thy breast shall lie upon my heart,
Nor pillow the bitten waste, my own, my own!
[She moves from him. He rises]
Why are you silent, pale, and heaven-still?
Ard. I must be still. I've mourned my heart-walls thin.
This joy will break them. Joy to hear your voice
With love's mate-music in it cry to me.
My joy! I'll drink it all, nor lose one drop,
For I shall have no more.
Ber. No more? No less
Than life can hold!
Ard. Hear me, my lord.
Ber. You love me!
Ard. I shall not be your wife.
Ber. You're mine—all mine!
Ard. You hold your vow yet sacred, breaking it
By the sole might of love. You do not feel
The vision round you in whose light that vow
Falls like a grave-cloth from an angel's limbs.
Ah, Christ would be no bridal guest of ours,
Shut out by your heart's fear.
[He stands as if stricken]
You see 'tis true.
You listen for his sanction, and you hear
The ring of your own vow.
[He sits bowed]
You hear it now
Above your passion's chime. 'Twill fill the air
When love's mad bells grow quiet, and your soul
Asks the old question. Let me then be far
From thee, nor stay to be a claspèd fire
Eating thy side.
Ber. You'll heal me of my fear.
[Reaching his hands to her]
My fountain and my palm!
Ard. Your doubt would stir
Beneath your tenderest deep. My nearing step
Would as a trumpet start its buried storm
To sweep our meeting eyes.
Ber. If Christ would give
A sign,—leave me no choice,—no other way
Ard. The torch of Fate but blinds us when the heart
Beareth no light.
Ber. Not Fate, but Heaven—there
I'd read my sign.
Ard. Hope not, my lord, that Heaven
Will drive me to your arms. Farewell.
Ber. No, no!
To keep you I'll dare hell——
Ard. Dare hell? My love
Walks not that fiery verge, but waits thine own
In regions nearer God. There we shall meet,
And there will be no hell.
[Turns to go, but is drawn back by his grief]
Thou art a prince
Of Christ. Arise and rule this land for him.
There is no sin in you. You've kissed my hands,
And they are bright as stars!
Ber. O, can you go?
You do not love me. In your breast are wings—
No heart, but wings that seek the mountain sky.
Go perch above me, leave me dying here.
And cool your bosom with a virgin song
To mateless heaven!
Ard. Who is cruel now?
You have the world to feed on, need not eat
Your heart as I must—I, the woman. Dear,
Where Kidmir cliffs climb highest to the sky
I'll keep my watch, but thou shall rise above me
In thought of men. O'er all discerning shall
Thy purpose wing, perhaps be drunk of clouds,
But light shall follow where thine aim has sped,
And leading upward with your comrade world,
My Kidmir shall seem lowly, where I walk
With stintless ache beneath the cedar boughs
On pain's moon nights. And oh, the Springs to pass,
When each bride-bud shall be a wound to me,
When grasses young, and softly pushing moss,
Shall urge my feet like fire, and I must stand
Quite still ... quite still ... with all my unborn babes
Dead in my heart.
Ber. [Motionless] You dare not leave me now.
You dare not, Ardia.
Ard. I dare not stay.
[As she nears the great doors they rumble shut and are noisily barred without]
Ard. Ho! Open, open, open! I pray you, open!
[Beats on door, then leans to the silence]
Shut in ... shut in! So Oswald's treachery
Begins with me. My father, we are lost.
You are to die, and I—to-morrow, oh,
My honor will go wasting on the fields
With every soldier's breath! You hear, my lord?
We are shut in....
Ber. The miracle!
Ard. Together....
Ber. The sign! the sign!
Ard. For all the night....
Ber. For all
Eternity! There is no other way.
I take you as from Christ. My bride, my bride!
[Curtain]
Scene 2. The same. Gray of morning seen through grating of window, rear, where Bertrand stands looking out and upward. Ardia is sleeping on a couch. The dawn-light wakes her and she starts up.
Ard. 'Tis morning. Bertrand! You have watched all night?
Ber. O, there has been no night.
Ard. I slept it through.
Ber. Thy body slept, but thou hast been with me
O'er all the world, and farther than the world,
Out where the life begins.
Ard. That may be true,
For I had wondrous dreams.
Ber. You speak of dreams?
A magic touched me, and I woke from dream
Knowing my life. What ways we went! All things
Seemed new, warm with the Maker's hand, as young
As our own eyes, but 'twas eternity
That kept them sweet, unaging.
Ard. It was Love
Who gave thee eyes to see the world immortal
Even in our own.
Ber. Do all Love's votaries
Walk with such magic sight?
Ard. In truth! I've seen
A beggar woman tread the road-side dust
As it were showered gold, because she had
Love's eyes. And we—what joys our joy shall find!
The pearling skies with rose-breath drinking ours
'Tween sea and dawn! The leaves that turn i' the wind
And tremble in our hearts—the brook-song that
Began beyond the stars—the woodland nests,
Breast-warm——
Ber. And one is ours.
Ard. The lark that leaves
His meadow-mate and reels at the sun's door
Dropping his song of fire and clover-dew
Down to her heart.
Ber. [Kissing her] As this in thine!
Ard. And all
Life's dearer-veinèd joys,—the way-side hands
That pluck to camp-fire glow,—the smile of age,
Gift-sweet and wise beside the garner door——
Ber. Ay, dear are these ... but when we came again
From that far, holy place....
Ard. Ah, in your dream.
Ber. Where no words go or come....
Ard. When we came back?
Ber. Walking the light between the parted stars,
And met the days that knew us ... naught could hide
The eternal joy within it. Twas a world
Whose beauty lay allwheres. O, not alone
In morning skies and mated larks a-wing!
Each rag-hung thing was dipped in chosen time
And wore its royal hour.
Ard. If that could be!
Ber. What seers, what eyes of light, outshone the pain
That gave them being! Tears that silvered graves
Globed in their pearl the immortal hope of men,
And seemed as beautiful as prophecy
Burning in its own truth. Ay, where a man
Fell murdered, crying "I forgive," the ground
Sprang as a garden——
Ard. Murdered? O, not that!
How could you say it? I had forgot, forgot!
Love in your dream looked you quite through the soul
Of Time on things to be? What saw you then?
Ah, tell me!
Ber. Then?... Then came this dimmer light
Which you called morning, and I saw no more.
Ard. I would I knew!
Ber. You fear even now?
Ard. O, me!
Ber. Sweet, leave these shadows—dreams of ancient night
That cling too late upon a day-warm world.
Must I persuade you still that Oswald means
Our happiness?
Ard. Hark you! They come, my lord.
Ber. The sunrise feast. Fit place and time to break
The fast of love.
Ard. O, hear! So many feet!
Ber. Dear trembler, do not fear.
Ard. They're here, my lord.
Ber. Welcome the world. It has no eye can make
Our own seek earth.
[Doors open. Enter Frederick, Oswald, Charilus, Berenice, with lords and ladies attending. Servants follow bearing trays, and lay the table. Ardia hastens to her father and they talk apart. Oswald advances to Bertrand, right, the others lingering left]
Osw. I am forgiven?
Ber. Forgiven!
Ask God and Love! I'll thank you all my life
That you did force me take my only way
To Heaven.
Osw. Hmm! And I spent a bitter night
Fearing your morning face.
Ber. It was my soul's
Birth-night.
Osw. God bless me, you are grateful, sir.
But you've good reason. [Looks at Ardia] I had no such mate
To make the dark hours fly.
Ber. Pray speak to her.
Osw. In my good time.
Ber. Nay, now!
Osw. The day is long.
I shall be gentle, for I owe her much
Who gives me back my son. Come to our guests.
Ber. Does Frederick——
Osw. Ay, he knows all, and bears
No grudge.
Ber. Knows all?
Osw. He clapped my plot as though
His own thick noll had hatched it.
Ber. And the princess——
Osw. You see her smile? There's answer for you.
Come!
No blush! Put on a face. Your bridal news
Shall sauce our banquet.
[They move to guests]
Fred. [To Bertrand] Greet you, sir! But why
So pale, my lord? I fear me you have spent
A sleepless night.
Ber. Ay, as the stars.
A Lord. The stars?
He winked then, by the rood!
Ber. What do you say?
Lord. I say the stars do wink, most gracious prince.
Osw. Come, find your seats, my friends! Yet two of us,
Lord Charilus and my unworthy self
Must keep our feet till we have drunk the wine
Made sacrosanct by one night's rest upon
The Virgin's altar.
[Bertrand places Ardia's seat by her father, who stands at the left of Oswald]
You, fair Berenice,
Sit at my right, and on your other side
The graceless prince of Suli begs for room.
Bere. He beg, my lord? I have not heard his tongue,
And for his eyes, I fear no leek of Wales
Could pull a beggar's tear from them to oil
This suit. But he is welcome.
Ber. [Taking seat by her] Thank you, lady.
[When all are seated save Charilus and Oswald a priest enters bearing a chalice of wine which he places on table before Oswald]
Osw. This is the cup by angels visited
In night's deep hours. Herein they dropped the peace
Of Heaven, which Charilus and I shall take
Into our hearts. I know in truth it holds
Sweet peace for me—the peace that thirty years
My veins have ached for. Charilus, what say you?
Char. My heart can hold no more of peace than now
Doth fill it, but I drink with you, my lord.
[Drinks from goblet which Oswald has filled from chalice, and Oswald drinks from goblet filled by Charilus]
Osw. [Dropping his glass] Is peace a fire?
I' faith, this kindles me!
Thou smileless priest, take off the Virgin's cup!
You think it needs another blessing, sir,
Since my bold hand has touched it? Out with you!
[Exit priest with chalice]
That pinch-face has seen hell and fasts to keep
The ghost down. I'll not fast. Set to, my friends.
Fill up your bowls, for I've a health for you.
We drink to Berenice, bride to be
Of Bertrand, prince of Suli and my son!
A Lord. [As all lift their glasses]
We pledge the bride of Bertrand—Berenice!
Ber. Drink not, my lords, till you have changed that name
To Ardia, daughter of our noble guest,
Lord Charilus!
Fred. [Rising] If this be sport, Earl Oswald,
A world of groans shall pay for 't!
Bere. [In mock swoon] Oh.... I faint....
[Her ladies help her]
Osw. You bawling ass! You thousand times a fool!
Ber. [To Oswald] You've woven a maze about me, and I'm blind
With 't, yet I see to pluck one truth,—my bride
Is Ardia. No other under Heaven! My lords,
It is the wine——
Osw. Would then 'twere in your throat!
Is this the riddle of your morning smile?
Your fair compliance, soft submission? Sir,
By my heart's blood, I'll give you to the sword
Ere you shall make me father to a drab—
The spoil of your own lust, the—What, you draw?
Ay, strike me down! Let me be first to fall
Beneath your mighty sword! The rust has lain
A lifetime on it, and a father's blood
May cleanse it bright as Heaven!
Ber. O, my Christ!
Osw. Yea, call on him, and he will hear thee too,
Who honorest so thy father!
[Bertrand stands speechless]
Now, my lords,
Since he no longer brays, I have a tale
To tell you. I, too, had a father, though
The world has long forgot him.
Fred. No, my friend.
Well do I bear in mind his fair, proud face,
And glory of his arms.
Osw. He was struck down
Because a minion, straying from the hearth,
Looked on his beauty with her nestling eyes.
Fred. For no more cause?
Osw. I swear it. Friends, if death
Were the cold price for kissing of a jade,
Who here would be alive? For so slight sin
Was my brave father murdered. Charilus, speak!
Was not the princely heart of John of Clyffe
Ripped with a hate-keen sword,—the sword of him
Who claimed the lordship of those rebel lips
That chose my father liege?
Char. It is too true.
Osw. Who better knows? Say that a wilding flies
The builded bower, hearing a lordlier song
Pass on the wind than her dull mate can tune,
Must then the singer die, who scarcely knows
His song is heard, or that a bold wing follows?
Char. Whether the earl of Clyffe sang then to woo,
As I believe, or for the love of song,
As you do say, my lord,—his death was sin,
And he who wrought that woe shed tears enough
To clear his stain, if tears may whiten souls.
Osw. A murderer's tears! But what of mine, the son's?
Ber. Your oath—your honor, sir! Where is the love
You swore should cleanse your shield?
Osw. Safe in my heart.
And burning for my father.
Ber. God of pity!
Osw. That was the love I spoke of.
Ber. All be deaf
But hell!
Osw. Hear the full tale, my friends. I swear
The earl of Clyffe died for no more offence
Than I have here set out,—and I, his only son,
Kissed his red wounds and from his breast unbound
This bloody scarf— [taking scarf from his bosom] that then was crimson, now
In age-grown black bemourns my step that comes
So sluggish to revenge. For thirty years
Had passed ere I beheld his murderer,
Then face to face we stood ... and face to face
We stand ... for this is he, this Charilus
Of Kidmir—peace-lipped Cain—gray hypocrite,
Whose blood is honey in his veins, whose eyes
Stare on the world as he were some bland god
Who made it and said "good."
Char. Sir, I would send
My daughter to her brothers. Grant me this.
And I am ready for what death you please.
Ard. I will not go. One sword shall strike us both.
[Turns to Oswald]
But first a word to you. When Charilus falls,
Say farewell to your son. He pledged his life
To my two brothers for our father's safety,
And you, who know him least, yet know he'll keep
That pledge.
Osw. What, creature, will you lie?
Ard. I speak
The truth. Strike, if you can, this gray old man,
Silvered in service to the one high God,
Sinless as sunlight, fair in sweetened age,—
Let forth his sainted blood, and Bertrand lives
No longer than the shortest time between
Suli and Kidmir.
Osw. That's a lifetime then!
He shall not step! I'll have him hung with chains
Till he is fast as rooted oaks in earth!
Ber. [Stunned] A guest betrayed....
Osw. Betrayed? I promised him
Such treatment as he gave my blood. And he
Shall have it—death!
Char. Peace be my heir!
Ber. [Takes stand by Charilus] Death, sir?
First break this sword! Thy sin must be unnamed
Until the angel who doth write thee damned
Gives it foul christening. I break my pledge.
I will not go to Kidmir. Here I'll give
My life for Charilus.
Char. No blow for me!
O, may I unavengèd lie forgot,
And my forgiving blood make barren ground
Alive with asphodel——
Ber. Nay, I will strike,
Though a father's sword meet mine!
[Charilus trembles, and supports himself by Ardia's arm]
Osw. Commend me, stars!
You counselled well. [To Bertrand] Fool, do not draw. There's none
Will run against you. Charilus is dead,
And by a way more sure. His holy goblet
Held one rich drop the angels put not there
Nor Virgin blessed. See how he pales—and stares—
And cannot get his voice? So are we spared
A swan-song homily trickling through his beard.
Be off, old pray-lip—off, and take with you
Your cat-foot peace and milky piety!
I serve a vengeful God who armeth men
For his own wars!
Ber. Heaven, draw thy clouds about thee!
[Charilus dies in Ardia's arms]
Osw. He's dead! The air of earth is sweet again.
I have no enemy!
Ber. [Looking up from the body] You have no son.
[Curtain]