(Qarnell UninBraUg ffithratg 3Hfata, ^tta forh FROM THE BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY COLLECTED BY BENNO LOEWY 1854-1919 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY M- ^ Cornell University ^' 'J Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 924021 978931 THOMAS A'BECKET % €x^tlil IN FIVE ACTS. NEW YORK- DIOK & FITZGERALD, 18 ANN STREET. THOMAS A'BECKET % Crage^g IN" FIVE ACTS. NEW TORIS:-- DIOK & FITZGEEALP, . 1§ lAJiTN STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in tiie year 1863, By dick & FITZGERALD, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the ' Southern District of New York.* u. A. ALVOED, ELEOTKOTTPEE AND PEINTEE. THOMAS A'BECKBT. A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. Thomas A'Bbokbt. Sir John op Samsbdet, ) „. „ . , ^ „ „ ' [■ Hia fneuds. SiE Peter op Blois, ) Albert and Hush, his attendants. Henet II. of England. LoRB FiTZtTRSE, Henry's favorite. Lords Db Broo, Db Moeevillb, De Tract. SiE Richard Beito. RbSINALD DBWAERBmrB. Gervase de Cornhill. Earls Leicester and CJornwall. Bishops op London, SSlisbuet, 'Woeoestbr, Winchester, and York. Sm Richard de HJLSnNas, Grand Prior of England's TCnights Templars, then 70 years of age. Philip op Rome, Legate. Sir Gtrr db Lttsisnan, Knight of Flanders. KNiflHTS OP France. LnciLLB, Niece of A'Beoket. Matildb, Cousin to LuoiUe. LoEDS and Ladies. Reign of Henry IT. of England, A. D. IIBS-IITO. Scene lies in England, Flanders, and France. J A'BECKET. ACT I. SCENE FIRST. Sea-shore after a storm — ^Fragments of a wreck. SiE RicHAED Betto and Loed Fjtzitese enter from oppo- site sides. BEITO. Wliat means tliis haste, my Lord ? , PITZUESE. Hast thou not heard? A'Becket and the King are foes. BEITO. A'Becket and the King ! those late dear friends ! They cannot long be foes : A'Becket is too great Not to forgive his wrongs ; the King too weak, In these wild troublous times, in men of mighty intellect. He feels it, Sir ; we feel it. Sir, though we do hate The man who so o'ertops us. You, in the brief recital, Teach this fact — saying, " A'Becket and the King Are sworn foes" — see, how the priest comes first ; So stands he in the thoughts of every man. FITZTJESE. And yet Tve heard that he was humbly born, But rose so fast, that, like the young fledgling, Soars too high at first — singeing his wings THOMAS a'bEOKET. [AOT I. He weakened them, and now, full grown, They will not bear him up — ^hunter and hawker As he is — this churlish priest, bom for the torment Of the Anglo-Norman race. A tradesman's son, N"o more — BEITO. A tradesman's son ! Know, my young Lord, His father was a warrior too, as honest. Sir, As brave — and honesty makes any trade An honor ; and more, his mother, tho' of another clime, Owned gentle blood. When a mere boy, He was sent to Kome by Theobald, Archbishop Then of England, and straightway from His Holiness Bore letters, prohibiting the crowning Of the late King Stephen's son — thus firmly Seating Henry on his throne : — thereafter Soon appointed England's High Chancellor And prince Henry's preceptor. Courtier complete. Unbounded revenues, with seven hundred knights And twelve hundred horsemen in his pay — A regal state — he made the campaign To Toulouse. Next he was to Paris sent, to treat Of an alliance between the young daughter Of France's king and our Prince Henry. Ay, and re- turned With her to England. Se never failed. A tradesman's son, you say — ^his craft he ne'er forgot. Then Theobald died — whom to the primacy Could Henry raise but him, the great A'Beckfit ? First primate sprung from Anglo-Saxon race ; Honored and treasured by all of Saxon blood ; Received by Welsh with the most loud acclaim. Their first Lord Primate under Norman rule — For though I hate him, I must own him great. SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. t The King till now did love him -well — • What is the cause Of strife? FITZUESE. TJnto the Pope he hath complained / Of the laity's infringement of the Church's rights, \ And his assent refusing to the Constitutions Of Clarendon, has fled to France. The King At Northampton holds his court to-morrow ; His counsellors are all summoned. BBITO. This I for many a day have feared. Go you not to the chase ? our Liege at noon Rides forth. Yet stay — ^who have we here ? Lord Salis- bury, Storm-worn and sad ! Enter Loed John of Salisbtjet. You here, my Lord, in this dark hour ? Methought the air of France ere this did fan your brow. "What news from Lord A'Becket ? SALISBTJET. None, none ; but adverse winds Have raged since England's Primate set sail For France. How fares our Liege to-day ? BEITO. Right well. He's for the chase at noon, whither I haste To wait on him — ^let's on, Fitzurse — Farewell, Lord Salis- bury! [BErro and Fitzuesb Exeunt. SALISBTJET. Farewell, most valiant lords — mad King, sad minister ; Oh ! where wiU this day's business end, his favorite 8 THOMAS a'bECKKT. [ACT I. Long, now fallen and fled ! These Norman lords Ne'er loved the Saxon priest — ^but his great genius Bowed them to his will. Queen Eleanor Never loved her King — ^hates him — While she lives, she'll never cease to work their ill. Meet helpmate has she proved to England's King ; Her uncle's mistress and the Turk's light of love — For this, repudiated by Louis " the young." Our Norman King, to rule her wide domains, After six weeks made her his queen, Bartering his honor and his happiness. I see her hand in this ; she wooed A'Becket's love, And won his deep despite — ^return like this, No woman e'er forgave. Here have I sought Since yesternight for those would brave the fury Of the storm, and bear these letters to my wronged friend, England's great Primate — great in his youth In feats of arms, learned in legendary lore, Foremost in the court and camp, and first in Henry's favor Till he bade him wear the Primate's robes — Then he foretold this hour ! It's now three days Since he set sail for France, in all which time A tempest fierce hath raged, with winds adverse To him — as though fate would not he should leave His land. But lo ! a sail ! Mayhap it bears him back. I'll to their aid. [Mceunt. SiE Petek of Blois enters, his garments wet and soiled. SIB PETEE. A'Becket shipwrecked on his native shore ! He who hath piloted through so many a storm 1 It augurs iU for him. Is there no end To his great cares ? Alas ! I fear me, none, SCEITE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. !. For e'en the elements seem opposed to him. No sooner had we left this mighty realm, Albion's white cliffs slumbering in virgin beauty, Than, robed in mist, all faded from our view. And fierce old ocean, with a lion's roar, Struck panic 'mid the seamen. So we who hoped In France to feast to-day, must break our fast In turmoU and in strife. Salisbtjet enters. Who comes? "What! you, my friend ? SALISBUET. Welcome, thrice welcome, tho' in such sad plight ! Thank Heaven, you have weathered out the storm. How fare you, Sir, and our great friend, A'Becket ? BLOIS. As well as ever, though in wisdom wiser. We left the port with favoring gales. But soon the scene was changed ; an angry sea Tossed our poor bark, like bittern, o'er its waves, While she with true heart breasted aU their force, And stiU obedient to the helmsman's rule. After three days' fierce conflict with the storm, Though stranded on yon shore, is sound as ever. Ready again to cope with them. This was for us, my friend. It bids us brave The storms of fate, though we are backward driven By their force. What did you here ? SALISBUET. I waited Till the storm should luU, these papers to dispatch to you The King had just rode forth unto the chase. When news was ta'en him, A'Becket and his friends Had fled to Franlse. Thereon he ordered 1* 10 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT I. A great council to be held at Northampton, And questioned why he left — asking If the same realm could not contain them both. BLOIS. No, Sir John, never while things are thus ; A'Becket must yield or combat with him manfully ; The last it must be. There is no choice but this. [^Pauses. Heard I aright ? Gone forth unto the chase ? How can he wear a heart so light in hour Like this ? 'Tis ever thus among the great In power, that one man's sorrow proves Some other's joy. So he now revels — riots In his misery. Who have been with you Since I left? SAUSBTJET. Young Lords Fitzurse and Brito. BLOIS. Fitzurse ! You entertained him as a friend ; Though in the service of a foe, his heart IncUnes to us. SALISBUET. Even BO methinks, my Lord; But come — let's to A'Becket's home, where all Do anxiously wait news of him. BLOIS. We will — when there, we must prepare a numerous suite To wait on him to Northampton. 'Twere well To make a goodly show of friends. [Exeunt. SCENE n.] THOMAS a'bEOKET. SCENE SECOND. GotHc HaU. a'bbckbt — alone. So mucli for being -willing slave to power ! Had I but sought my pleasure and my -weal, Forgetting his, whose shadow I have been, Not his thought my thought, his every wish my act, All had been well ! But no, not so ; I, to enhanoa His glory, wealth, and power, to jealous envy Have exposed myself, and now must fall Even like Lucifer, lost in the radiance I have heralded! Be firm, my heart, be firm I "lis envy speaks ! The tale while told sounds loudly. But palls when probed, bringing dishonor On the babbler's head ! 'Tis weightless as the story The old man tells, walking in second childishness. Why should I be moved ? Silence, thou petty voice, Zwill not deign to note their idle words. But, ha ! a step — No gentle, sylphlike step j I hoped my child's. They do approach — Retires one side.^ I'll note them here. FiTzuKSE enters, looking round. FITZFESB. How reverend is the air pervades these halls ! How like their great inhabitant, time furrowed ! t'irm they stand, ready to cope with fiercest elements. 12 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT I. Oh ! 'tis a noble house ! fit home for such a heart ; Would it were tuned to softer measures, That his step might move in harmony "With his king's. Gone, gone to France. I would It were not so — ^for something tells me that my fate And thine, great soul ! are linked together. A voice ! a step ! [A'Becket comes forward. What ! thou, our Lord Archhishop ! Welcome, my reverend father, to your own land ! No home like this for you. a'becket. Much tnovedJi Thanks, thanks, my son. My Liege — How fares my Liege ? ■ fitzuese. Well ; save in wanting you. a'becket. My King ! my King ! to think it should he thus I But he required I should assume this office — And I obeyed amid the formal greetings Of the Lord Bishops, who ever hated me. Then with my office I straightway changed My robes, niy habits, and my home ; fasting Where I had feasted ; no more proud Norman's favorite ; Saxon born, I was the people's friend. But stay, whom have we here ? Matilde and Lucille enter, with cloaks on. MATiLDE, embracing him,. My uncle, my dear uncle ! a'becket. What ! bravest thou the storm ? FITZTTESE. Angelic maids ! SCENE n. J THOMAS a'bEOKET. 13 a'becket, embracing I/ucille. Thou too, my fair Lucille ! What did you there ? LUCILLE. I sought, with dear Matilde, tidings of you, my Lord. EiTZTJESE, aside. And then, to "wend to heaven. a'becket. My blessings be with you. Daughters, my Lord Fitzurse ! EITZUESE. Fair ladies, at your service. FiTZUESE, Matilde, and Lucille retire one side; on the other enter Richaed de Hastings and Philip oe Rome, with attendants and great show of friends. HASTINGS. Our service, my Lord Archbishop. a'becket. Aside.] This Norman Lord I To them.] You're welcome. Sirs. Pray, what may be your errand ? A noble one it should be, that is borne By the Grand Prior of England's Knights Templars. HASTINGS. 'Tis from your King I come ; grieved deeply By your hasty course, and much moved withal, His language is, "That his loyal subjects Ever observe his will ; " — ^that he requires Tour consent to these the Constitutions Of Clarendon. , [JProduces scroll. Then reads — ] " Which do provide, that aU control of church as weU as 14 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT I. State, should be intrusted to the civil courts. Her clerks, accused of any crime, be tried by them. No clergy leave the realm without consent of King. That excommunicates should not be bound to give security for their continuance in some fixed abode. That all appeals, in causes spiritual, be carried from the Primate to the King, making his judg- ment final. That the Archbishops, Bishops, and other spirit- ual dignitaries should be regarded as Barons of the reahn, possess their privileges and be subjected to the burdens of that rank — to attend the King in his Great Councils and as- sist at all trials criminal. The revenues of vacant Sees to belong to the King ; and that the clergy no longer pretend to the right of enforcing payment of debts contracted by oath or promise, but should leave these lawsuits, equally with other, to the determination of the civil courts ; and that the sons of viUeins be not clerks ordained without their lord's consent." a'beck3t. Requires he this ? My Lords, you know not what you ask ; Go, raze our churches, chapels, convents, ay, our homes. Expel the clergy from his vast domains. And you could do no worse ! Nor is his message Couched in gentle words, although, my Lord, In your delivery it loses its sharper part ; StUl would I that you had not borne it. Your office is not raised in my esteem — Degraded to the messenger of an angry King, For passion ur^es this, and as kings are Above their fellow-men, so should they be Above their frailties ; but I would learn What further he designs. HASTINGS. Pray, be not moved, my noble Lord Archbishop : First, he commands you, his late Primate — SCENE n.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 15 a'bbckbt, hastily. His late Primate ! who may he be ? "Who was the Primate is the Primate still. HASTINGS. Such was his word, and he requires you surrender Instantly the Castles of Eye and Berkham, With aU their honors, and deliver up The culprit, now in your hands, charged With such grave offence, in wedding Lord Rupert's daughter. a'bbckbt. Unequal birth his only fault — would at some mightier's gate No graver lay ! does he so soon forget fam'd Rosamond, So fair ! so frail ! the only daughter of De ClifGjrd, Our great Saxon Lord, the prop and stay Of his old age, degraded to the leman Of his Norman King, to whom he was too faithful? Accursed was the day when Harold fell. For sin hath shadowed aU our ways since then ! But stay, bear this from A'Becket of Canterbury To Henry of England, King but by accident Of birth : say that I neither wiU surrender aught, Nor yield unto his will. Whence is his power That he should trample upon me, in all His equal, save in honors ? PHILIP OF BOMB. My Lord Ai-chbishop, pray be advised ; Beware a breach with King so powerful. a'bbckbt. Philip of Rome, we, Anglo-Saxon born. Are free by nature, as the wind that blows ; 16 THOMAS A BECKET. [aOT I. "We how no suppliant knee to power, Save 'tis the 2}ower of mind! The poorest hind may bear the proudest head That walks unsceptred through the land. Genius may rear her throne beneath the hovel's roof, And there her worshippers in crowds will kneel. I am the people's friend, the lordlings' foe, When arrogance marks their steps — go, Sirs, And tell the King I wUl not yield ! HASTnSTGS. I fear. Archbishop, this is iU. advised ; He is enraged with what has passed already. a'becket, much moved. Well, let him be enraged : what's that to me ? Why should I heed his anger ? Leave him awhile, And he'll grow calm and cool. The hardest steel Not long retains its heat ; the mettled steed Will soonest tamely yield, outworn by his own spirit. HASTKGS. Those honors, my dear Lord, they are of mighty value. Pray be advised ! We would not have you lose Tour high estate, and all its great attendants. a'becket, aside. They are moved, the coward hearts ! 'Tis for themselves They fear. My privileges curtailed, where are their own ? Aloud^ My high estate ! my honors ! Who can disrobe me of them? They were born with me, with me shall die ! My office I would resign as easily as I lay aside This robe — laside.^ Li faith, I find that it is somewhat worn, I would a newer, if not plainer guise. SCENE n.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 17 HASTINGS. All England, Sir, would mourn your loss. a'becket. And so she should, for England holds me in her chains ; I am the veriest slave that ever lived. No mother ever felt more pangs, than I For England — there's not a churl in all the land, But I am hound to him by bands of adamant. My heart-strings webbed in his — ' King's gifts I value not. To Philip of Rome.] What say you, Prelate ? PHILIP OF EOME. Give him his way. a'becket. Never ! So help me Heaven ! Enter Eaels of Leicester and Cornwall. What would ye, noble Sirs ? CORNWALL. That you should let King Henry have his will. a'becket. Tou too, my Lords ! I had hoped else than this. In you I had confided, till the waters rose E'en to their highest height. Aside.] Ah ! well I know A dove's upon the wing, comes from a storm-proof ark. Aloud.] I may not give him way — ^for nothing then will satisfy. The Barons all are his — the Bishops, overawed, Dare not oppose his will. Leicester and Cornwall, Te know not what you do. 18 THOHAS a'bEOKET. [aoT I. Hastings casts himself on his knees before A'Becket. HASTINGS. Father, upon my knees, I do beseeech you yield. I never knelt before To any man. a'becket. Arise, and never kneel again. Save unto God. - [Hastings rises. What judgment tells me's wrong. Entreaties never wiU make right. HASTINGS. If you regard your or your Church's safety, Provoke him not — 'twere vain, my Lord — fruitless, AU opposition. He, on his purpose bent. Will have revenge on aU who dare oppose. a'becket. My Lord, you know me not. I have no fears — To yield my will, of all things, most I dread. A dangerous precedent it would be Both to myself and King ; for unto me Succeeding trials would each easier seem, And I should yield, until my resolution All was lost — while unto him 'twould be Removal of the sole restraint upon his lawless will. My Lords, I love my King (we were as brothers TiU this hapless hour), and cafinot see him. leap Into the gulf of his mad hot desires. [Lords confer aside. a'becket, aside. Should I now yield, what will my country gain ? Yet is it wise, beggared to be of power, — That which, of all thiags, least I'd bear to lose ? I cannot, will not, whatsoe'er the cost. BOENE ni.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 19 HASTINGS. My Lord, you are alone in this. a'becket. My Lord ! 'Tis virtue ! and I would rather be alone With her, than compassed round by all the hosts Of vice. Of all my friends, are there none left ? Not one. [Aside.] The wise man to the whirlwind bows His head. [Aloud] I wiU attend the Court. FareweE! farewell 1 [Mxit Lords on one side — ^A'Beckbt and friends on the other side.] SCENE THIRD. Grand Coimoil Room at Nortliampton — Throne with steps — Range of ■ seats for Lords. BEITO. Where are your thoughts, Fitzurse ? irrzuESB. Tn heaven. BEITO. Li heaven ! that's strange, indeed, in you. What took them there ? . FITZTJESE. The sight of one newly come thence To earth — ^the fairest being ever eye beheld. BEITO. Indeed ; whose house may't be is worthy such A visitant ? PITZUESE. Thou'lt rival me, I fear. 20 THOMAS A'bECKET. [AOT 1. BEITO. Indeed, not I ; 'vrho is this paragon ? FirZTTESE. None other than A'Becket's niece. BEITO. A'Becket's niece ! Banish that thought, my Lord. The King will frown On this new fancy. rrrzFESE. Well ! let him frown I I live not in the fear of kingly ire. BEITO. Love makes you bold, young Lord. Oh, clip its wings Before it takes too wild a flight — Lo, where he comes, And angered too, 'twould seem. FITZTJESE. 'Tis with A'Becket. [Aside.] Oh cruel, cursed fate ! That my youth's follies do compel this sei-rice To the King, while fair Lucille, A'Becket's niece, Reigns my heart's queen. [Aloud.'] My Liege. Enter Henby and his Court. Se ascends the throne. HENET. Where stays this priest ? Summon him hither on the in- stant — Kings wait not on their suhjects' pleasure. ErrzuESE. He comes, my Liege, clothed in his robes of office As Lord Archbishop — ^bearing the silver cross. HENET. Why comes he thus ? irrzUESB. It is St. Stephen's Day. SCENE ni.] THOMAS a'bEOKET. 21 HEWET. So hath it been for years, yet never came he thus. Bishop of London, preside you here. My Lords temporal, Attend on me — ^the judgment we will await Within — or I to be the King shall cease, Or he to be Archbishop. As Heitet leaves the throne A'Beckbt enters, holding the silver cross before him, and, takes his seat in silence/ his friends behind him, all magnificently attired. liONDOlT. My Lord Archbishop, why do you come Thus armed with the silver cross ? LOED. "lis in defiance Of our Liege, your coming thus into his Court. But he has a sword whose point is sharper far Than that of your pastoral staff. a'becket. Where is my King ? He should preside to-day ; 'Tis so prescribed by " Customs of the Realm." LONDON. Displeased with your approach in such unseemly mode, He doth pass judgment in the inner Court. a'becket. Unseemly mode ! the Church protects her own — She is my Counsellor — unto her I trust. Justice hath fled this realm. [Leicester enters. LEICBSTEE. My Lord, enraged, he swears He'n be revienged. Oh pray, have pity On yourself and brethren. Provoke him now No more. 22 THOMAS a'bECKET. . [ACT I. a'becket. What words are these before the Great Council Of the reahn ! Aside.] Nay, rather let him not provoke me more. CoENWAii enters. COENWAXL. It is determined, by the King's privy comicU, Tou be impeached of peijury and high treason. The first, in that you observe not the Constitutions Of Clarendon — the last, in that you disobey His orders. a'becket. What ! have I then no friends ? COEirWALL. Tou have your King, for this he- doth reject. And but demands that you shall subject stand Unto the Court's judgment, in the pecuniary charges. a'becket. This, too, I do refuse — ^the judgment Of no temporal court wiU I obey. FrrzuESE enters.] What more ? EITZUESE. My Lord, the King's permission By the Bishops is besought, that, on the score of perjury. They to Rome, agaiast you, may appeal. To this He doth consent. a'becket. The Bishops, say you ? Am I then prejudged without a hearing ? 'Tis enough, I mark what you do say. Aside.] Ay, mark it well. 'Tis fitting, very fitting, Tou, whose features wear her lineaments. SCENE ni.j Whom Henry wronged, as me, he wrongeth now, Should bear this message of his tyranny — Thus searing our wrongs upon my heart. Alas! poor Rosamond 1 LEICESTEE. The Peers, besides, do you pronounce Guilty of perjury and high treason ; But still, the alternative allow Of rendering your accounts, and settling . Any balance now against you. Do this, my Lord, Or hear from me your sentence. a'bbcket, starting and rising. My sentence, ere you've tried me ? Why, I Can charges bring will crush you with their sounding. Though ye are backed by hosts of friends. While I've but one — my well-known " Truth," Which is far stronger in its single strength Than all King Henry's power. The' I have ventured On an unquiet sea, I'U brave its utmost fury. The adder is not malignant, yet, too closely, press'd. May turn and sting the heel. My sentence ! Ye vain, proud Lords, ye have not words In your vocabulary to frame my fitting judgment ; Ye minions of a King who has roused a lion That he dare not face ! My sentence, Sii"S, is written in the skies ; It is recorded on the azure vault of heaven ; Its letters the glittering stars — heralds Of my future glories. As easy might Yon angry sea, whose wildest waves, 24 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT I. E'en in its fiercest rage, are stayed by this rook-bound shore, Strive to "wash out what is recorded there — I have no measure for such meanness ! AIL. Do you hear him ? A'Becket turns to go, when a clamor is raised against him. He steps bade and says — What noise is this ? Oh, were it not forbidden By my orders, with arms I would defend myself. 27ie doors of the apartment in which the King is sitting are now thrown open, and A'Becket discovers a body of Knights, with their garments tucked up and their swords drawn, when Henet approaches him hastily, and exclaims — HENET. So ! so ! Sir Priest. What ! this unto ourselves ? My Lords, we deem it fitting we should revive The customs and usages of our grandsire. What think ye. Sirs ? LOEDS. We do assent. a'bec3ket. And we — saving the honor of God, And of the Holy Church. HENET. There is venom In that reservation. We will no more with thee. Here is a special messenger from the Pope, In answer to my prayer. He, with letters Apostolical, enjoins aU prelates, and more Especially you of Canterbury, to accept and Observe all the King of England's laws. SCENE in.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 25 Choose here upon the instant — Compliance, Exile, or death. a'bboket, pointing to heaven. My Liege, my hour has not yet come. Aside.'] All armed, And ready for the act ? A forced compliance "Will not bind " the rights of our order" — and as on them Hangs the sole hope the Anglo-Saxon people have Against this Norman monarch's fierce assaults, I'U wear these robes, proof-armor in their cause. And with religion on our side, the sole true friend Of Liberty, I will assert— maintain their rights. I will consent — straightway to France, and thence To His High Holiness, appeal from this. Aloud to the Court.'] Prepare these Constitutions. HENET. This is well. ALL Long live our King ana Bishop. End or Aoi I. 26 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT H. ACT n. SCENE FIRST. France — ^An Anteroom — Gold and Blue. Matilde enters mth Lucille. MATELDE. In faith, Lucille, our refuge here in France Doth seem more hke triumphal entry of hero fam'd Than fallen favorites' flight — such troops of friends Attend us on our way. Oh, banish, sweet. From thy once radiant brow the sombre hue Now rests there. Tou'E make me sad, dear girl. Indeed you will. LUCILLE. Never, dear cousin, with a wiUing heart. MATILDE. "Willing or no, it matters not, Lucille, My heart is ever mirror unto thine. So cheer thee, love — thy suitors would not know The face they once adored. What's the romance The -gay Lord Fitzurse [JyuciUe starts] sang, when last we feasted By sweet Avon's side ? Sing me one line, 'twiU' bring To memory all those scenes of joy in which we revell'd, And, as gay lark's song heralds the smile of dawn, Wake from its dreams thy mournful pensive eye. These knights of France are rich in all may win The heart of beauty, and well I know Full many a lance will break for thee, Lucille. BCENE I.J THOMAS a'bEOKET. 21 LUCILLE. And break in vain ! MATILDB. Why so ? Ho-w ? Sighs and tears ! What is the cause of this ? Of late I've mark'd You're much alone, in shady walks, or where The silver moon sheds her pale light. What is't ? * Dost love ? Thou'rt moved ! Who is the knight whose badge Thy heart doth wear ? Tell me, sweet girl ; I know Thou lovest ! LUCILLE. 'Tis true, and am beloved. Nor were I sad, but he in whom I live "Now mourns by Avon's bank his absent love. His name, Matilde, I long have long'd to tell, But that my heart's so jealous of his worth, I would not e'en the air of heaven Should know its precious secret. MATILDE. Enow I its lord ? K so, how sweet we shall commune together, Unfolding to each other our hearts' treasures ; For I a seci-et have, dearer to me than Ufe. It shall be thine — thine given me in turn. LUCILLE. Is't so ? Fitzurse — ^his name. MATILDE. The noble, generous youth We love so much ? He whocours'd o'er the heath Of Hounslow to our support? LUCILLE. The same. 28 THOMAS a'beoket. [act n. MATTLDB. Why, thou hast known him hut one little month. LUCILLE. One little month? So foil of joys it was, That, when I count them o'er, all else of life ^. Seems but one little speck, except, except The last few days, which are as centuries. Dost wonder that I am sad ? MATLLDE. Nay, dearest, rather wonder I that floods Of tears marked not our swift departure. When, all so unprepared, thy heart was rooted From the soil it loved, to piae away afar. But cheer thee now, thou shalt not miss him long; He shall be summoned to attend our train. LUCILLE. * Thanks, thanks, my dear Matilde ; but he, you know. Doth wait upon the King. MATILDE. Nay, nay, you say the Queen of Beauty Rules his heart. She owns not a divided service. If Fitzurse loves thee, what is Henry's will Weighed against Love's commands ? All things Oppose its ardent calls, are but as rushes in its path. He'U straightway come to France. LUCILLE. Then wilt thou see my face decked, like the mom Of May, in the fair flowers thou so lovest, Matilde ; My heart will be as blithe as linnet's, And the whole livelong day thou'lt hear my song ; My steps the gentle fawn's shall all outvie ; And in my smile, mirrored, shall be thine own. SCENE II.J THOMAS a'bEOKET. 2{ The sweetest ever seen by man, In their richest beauty. Thy lover is — MATILDE. The Lord of Blois. He whose wit is soul Of merry meetings, and from whose sage discourse Wisdom itself might learn. But soon they'll come— Our aged uncle and my own true knight. [Meeunt, SCENE SECOND. Stone- Vaulted HalL \ a'becket. This then is my reward for years of toil ! Oh ! thou poor King, semblance of majesty I To use armed force against a cowled monk ! My pity doth outweigh my hate for thee. How soft the air of France ! The breeze that did accord With words of hate, with voice of love doth harmonize. Bright omen this — herald of joys to come ; Her King must smile, for many is the favor I have rendered him ; nor will brave Philip frown. For him I have served in diverse manners. But what of that ? Mankind of woman born • Never knew gratitude, since the first mother Of us all rebelled and ate forbidden fruit. Though Eden teemed with all most fair and good. No, no, 'tis not to this I'll look; jealous they grow Of England's King, and I will nm'se this plant Till it o'ershadows every other thought. Rome's Pontiff, too, doth feel but little love For him who so invades his rights. 30 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT II. Enter John op Salisbitbt. Who comes ? SAIISBUET.- Tour pardon, Father, if that I intrude. a'becket. Welcome, my son ; when to our friends at home You write, use Saxon names, lest that our letters Intercepted, disguise be needful for their safety. SATISBTTET. I shall, my Lord ; but now a knight of Flanders Attends your leisure. He comes intrusted With kind messages^ a'becket. Is't so ? Give him a hearty welcome. And, when refreshed, escort him to my room. SALISBUEY. France, too, doth join in her regards. My Lord of Blois Now greets her messengers. a'becket. France too ! Methihks the sun does shine To-day ! Go you with haste and give them welcome. \jExit Salisbitet. Flanders and France ! one more and aU Fate's frowns Are flown ; thus she, who seemed a very shrew To me, angelic maid wiU be. Ere they arrive I'U summon my Lucille, for suffering beauty More doth move the heart than ever did The care-marked face of age. Albert ! ho ! Albert J Miter Albeet.] Bid my lady nieces attend me here. As messengers from France and Flanders Have arrived, and I would they should welcome Them. \JExit Albeet. SCENE n.J THOMAS a'bECKET. ' 31 Farewell, pale care ! welcome, rose-clieeked joy ! Once more, as in my boyhood's hour, my heart Doth gayly beat. Louis of Prance, my Jhieartfelt thanks To you ; and Philip of Flanders, success Attend you ever — this hour shall Henry rue. Enter Matilde, Ltjcille, and Peter oe Blois. MATILDE. How fares my uncle? a'beoket. Well, dearest child ; and thou, the same ? But this were needless, for thy smile assents In terms more speaking than thy tongue could lisp. My fair Lucille ! Thou art not well, my child — But soon the air of France will call its wonted color To thy cheek. Do those Lords attend? BLOIS. They do. a'beckbt. Say I await them here. {Exit Blois. My daughters dear, season your welcome As best becomes ye. I'd take by storm These noble hearts, for first impressions Are like first bounds of steeds, that start Upon a race, which, feebly made, compel Much after toil, else they ne'er reach the goal. They come. Blois ushers in Loeds aw FuAfTCE and Flandees. BLOIS. From Flanders and from France, my Lord, These gallant knights bring messages of love. 32 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT II. ■ a'bbckbt. Welcome, welcome, gentlemen. Sir Guy de Lusignan ! Nobles of France, he is weU known to you, For Fame did with one breath proclaim you all , Her own. To Lttsignan.J My youth's fond playfellow ! Accept my welcome, and my thanks — thanks From a heart o'erflowing — for this remembrance Of thy sunshine's friend. SIK GUT. Friends in misfortune Are the only friends the great man e'er should boast. There ever are a thousand motes live in his sunbeams, But when shadows fall, they darkling fade away. Most noble Primate, our service unto you. And our King's welcome. a'bbcket. Thanks, my Lord, thanks to him And you. My niece Lucille ; MatUde, her friend And cousin. LORD OF FEANCE. Ever at your service, Ladies fair. Aside.] How passing beautiful ! Aloud.] As large as is The welcome of our hearts, which knows no bounds, So would our King and we, that you should find Our fortunes and our favors. Our Liege, To Henry's embassy's complaint of violation Of the Treaty of Montmerail, replied, " Go, tell your King, that if he holds unto the customs SCENE II.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 33 Of his grandsire, I well may hold to right Hereditary, of succoring the exiled of all climes." a'bbcket. Indeed ! indeed ! 'Twas nobly said. Were I to live Twice man's allotted time, I should not have E'en hours enough wherein to thank his gracious Majesty For such unbounded kindness shown me. The knights and ladies retire to the bade of the stage and FiTzuESE enters. a'becket. What ! thou, my Lord Fitzurse ? Aside.] I love this youth I And yet, alas ! why so ? His mother! No ! no ! 'tis past, 'tis past. Aloud.] Welcome, my son. FiTZFESE, kneeling. How fare you,- reverend Father ? Thy niece and cousin, all well, when so much evil Is abroad ? a'be'cket. All well, my son — and you ? Oh ! thine Is, indeed, true love ! FITZUESE, aside. Ha ! knows he that ? Oh, would it were ! a'becket. When in my power, you refused high rank, Thus, in my poverty, to join my train. riTZUESE. I wanted but thy love. Thy offices, Many, more able, needed. I but made room For one of the hungry crowd, that he might gorge Himself vnth power, that dish which all who eat, 2* 34 THOMAS a'beokbt. [act n. Lest they are favor'd.witli its choicest parts, Soon sickened, fall its prey. Henry on wrong heaps ■wrong : Four hundred of thy truest friends are banished From his realm, and Peter pence is stopped. a'becket. May Heaven pardon him as I do now ! How greatness brings sad havoc in its faU On all who prop it up. . PITZUESE. Not this alone ; He hath sequestered the revenues of Canterbury, And even thy domestics banished. a'becket. Revenged himself upon the innocent ! Oh, grimed heart ! More fiendish than was Nero In his rage ! To think that he I've served so long, From tender youth to age, should thus repay me. Oh, wretched man and yet more wretched King ! My servants, say'st thou? In what have they wronged him, Save in the service they have rendered me ? But he rewards the faithful with ingratitude. I will to England hasten, and surrender up My hfe ('tis all I've left) to him. prrzuKSE. Nay, nay, my Lord ! That were both rash and vain. a'becket. My friends ! my friends ! Think, think of them I Are they to sufier For wrongs done by me ? Justice hath fled his fealm. And devils rule his heart. Had I remained In England, this had not been. SCENE n.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 35 Oh, curse of greatness ! But thus the branches die, when falls the oak I Had I the voice of Rome, I'd shake the reahn Until it tottered on the verge of ruin, And his proud sceptred head lay in my courser's way. Peace, peace, my heart, but grow not instant old With this assault of Fortune ! Bear up, bear all ; Still hast thou manhood's vigor, with the wisdom Bom of sixty wintry years. Attend me here, my son. You who have flown to aid when fortune frowns. Shall be the first on whom her favor'U light. Tou'U find soflie friends in yonder room. Fareyvell, and when you're weary of life's trifles, Come to my closet ; there you'll find its cares. Spread with no niggard hand. FITZUESE. Bear up, my Lord, bear up ; this unto Henry Were the happiest hour he ever yet hath lived. Could he but see your grief. a'beckbt. My grief! grief and A'Becket Are as far apart, as are the sun And his antipodes ! This is not grief But rage, cooled in the air of practised self-control. Oh, could you look into my heart's curtained chambers, You would witness scenes- would daunt your very soul ! A citadel stormed outwardly by foes, The hosts withip, maddened by suflfering, Turned upon themselves. FrrzuESE. Oh, Father ! give not way. 36 ' THOMAS a'bEOKBT. [AOT H, * a'becket. Give not way ! I know my part ; forbearance For a season wins control ; when once I hold The reins, Henry of England, beware my rule ; The jewelled sceptre shall be all thou'lt wear Of royalty ; that will I leave you, that my revenge May the more bitter be, reminding you, poor King, ' Of what you once had been, and might yet be. riTZUESE, aside. This to the King, you'd never hold those reins. a'becket. I, I had rather be your crawling slave, ToU at the galleys from the first breath of morn TUl day hath sunk to slumbers, than live but king In name, held in such light esteem, the very air Would refuse to bear my words beyond the walls That heard them. Down Fate's Igng vista I have looked And seen what I have spoken. Mark me, my boy : My mother gave me this. She was the daughter Of a Saracenic chief. My father Warred with hers. After a conflict fierce, Overcome by him and prisoner taken, Long lay he ill, tended but by my mother, Then a maid of beauty, spotless as her virtue. Ministering to aU his wants, foreseen Long ere conceived — she learnt to love him, And he loved her — ^for what will sooner melt The heart of man than beauty, kneeling by the couch Where pain has laid his stricken frame. After some months, the tears that nursed those hours Of grief, were changed to smiles should gladden SCENE n.J THOMAS a'bBCKET. 37 AH life's days ; and theirs were in their spring. One great and brave, the other fond and fan-. Ransomed, he asked her hand ; her father frowned ; • But 'twas in vain — ^their troth was plighted. They swore to wed. He left for England. Scarce had he reached her shores, when at his feet Enelt a fair youth, " London" and " Gilbert" on his tongue ('Twas all the English that he knew), admittance Craving to his service. Knowing 'twas her, His heart alone adored, for love is ne'er deceived However disguised the form — ^he raised her — Clasped her to his breast — she was his own. Within a Uttle chapel by the sea-shore stands, Mantled ia ivy, veiled by rarest flowers From the world's gaze profane, they gave their hands — No hearts had they to give. Blest in each other, Long in love they lived ; and when he died. The blow which felled the oak struck to the dust The flower. There, by sweet Avon's side, wiiere stands A weeping willow, lie interred all That was left to earth — ^their spirits dwell in Heaven. Oh ye who watched my infancy, Upon my age look down in love : mail me Li virtue, that the shafts of vice may pass Me blunt and harmless. Grant that my arm may wield Her truncheon, while her banner floats high o'er My victorious brow. But I detain you, Sir. Go to my anteroom — ^there may my niece And cousin both be found. I will with you. [Meeunt. 38 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT II. SCENE THIRD. An Anteroom in Palace. Matildb, LucnjiB; Knights op Feance and Flanders advancing. FEAJSrCE. Ladies fair, we trust that us and ours you use As best promotes your pleasures. Many's the charm Of France — all yours, if you'U but ask it. MATILDE. Thanks, heartfelt thanks, most noble Lords ; so rich, So botmteous is your chme, that, were I not Of England, I fain would be of France. The very au- of heaven is generous here ; The flowers, the fruits, so lavish- all their sweets, Ambrosial is each breath. FEAJiTCE. Nay, nay, unworthy she of praise So sweet ; believe me, 'tis that she borrows From thy charms, that all's so passing fair. MATHDE. • The rose could scarce desert us here in France, So finished are you in your speech, my Lord. PEAlfCE. Li the moon's ray alone, the dew-drop glistens Longest. May we for many a day boast The bright light thy sweet smiles give our land. Who may this be approaches ? A gallant gentleman ! MATILDE. A noble Lord, the pride of all who know him. SCENE in.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 39 FiTzuESE enters. riTZTTESB. To Mattldb.J Fair lady, by your leave. \Kisses her hand. Tour servant, gentlemen. MATIEDE. My Lord Fitzurse, you're welcome. Presenting LuciiiB.J My lovely cousin I FITZUESE to her. My Morning Star ! \Kisses her hand. Oh, what a golden day Herein is promised me ! LTJCILLE. Fitzurse, my noble Lord ! The others retire^ \Tl^y walh apart. FITZTJESE. My fair Lucille — Sun- of my Ufe, what, what Hath ravaged my rich garden thus — its flowers All faded — all its pure springs dried up — where Are the roses rich, bloomed richest on thy cheek ? . The lilies fair which made thy neck their bed ? Their breath alone remains. And those bright orbs Which once did put the stars to shame, now seem But wells of grief. Cheer up, cheer up, sweet Mend ; Call from thy soul the light once wont to glisten In thy tearless eye. You'll make me sad, dear girl. In faith you will. Ah ! now you smUe, and now I know My own LucUle. What is't hath changed, you thus ? LUCILLE. . Thy absence, my dear Lord, and loving doubts Lest we no more should meet. Ah ! that alone Were grief enough to make stones weep ; but as the sun Their sweet distilments draws from flowery meads. 40 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT H. So shall thy presence from my verdant heart Keap harvest of such joys, thy eye will love To linger on the scene, on which it once so fondly gazed. FITZUESB. True, Love, though banished from our cherished home, We'll deck in joy our thoughts — and smiles the garb Shall be, the face shall wear— all lands the same to love. LUCILLE. In truth we will, dear Lord— but pray, how came you here ? FITZUKSE. My heart had learnt to beat most healthful time To the soft music of LuciUe's sweet voice. That missed— all others sounded " harsh and out of time." So I came here to France. LUCILLE. Then Henry hath not frowned On you — no, no, that could not be. FITZUKSE. Nor is ; But I have frowned on him — spurned the base rule That tramples thus on worth ; genius to slander's shafts Hath fallen prey, and wisdom fled his realm. The ides of March brought not more ills upon the sons Of Rome, than this on England hath. LUCILLE. Oh, say not so, for she our country is — But see, these knights of Flanders and of France Have ta'en their leave — they are most courtly lords ; To them I'm much beholden. FITZUESE. Thence, much am I ; Come, dearest love, and we'U amid this castle's varied scenes, While away a few short hours. [Mceunt. SCENE rV.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 4:1 SCENE FOURTH. Court at Sens — A Grand HaU. Enter Heij-et and Ds Beoc. HENET. I have advices tell me the Primate threatens me. He threaten me ! Why, what a shtve am I ! A monkish cowl more terror strikes into my heart Than twice ten thousand men, all mailed in steel ! Still, should he issue interdict, farewell To all my power — this will suspend all forms Religious — ^marriage, baptism, hurial — No priest Can then officiate in public or in private. 'TwiU break the bonds of loyalty. I'll stay his course. De Broc ! my Lord De Broc ! Give instant orders That all England's ports be watched, with this command, That any one, or man or chUd, matron or maid, Who shall bear over, promulgate, or obey, Letters of Literdict, receiveth instant death, — No clergy's benefit allowed. Announce That if the Cistercian Order, now at Pontigny, Continue to protect this traitor, their Order Be expelled froin my domains. \Ex,it De Beoc. Enter Fitzuesb.] Ha ! my Fitzurse ! FiTZFESE, kneeling. My Liege. HENET, sarcastically. ^ How fares our loving Primate ? PITZTJESE. Well, my Liege — ^France, Flanders, and the Pope outvie each other In favors shown him, 4:2 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aOT H. HENET. Is't SO, in fact ? PITZTJESE. In fact, my Liege. HENET. What can we do ? FITZFESE. Make peace with him. HENET. Make peace, but how ? Must I cringe to him ? EITZUESE. "No, my Liege, use France. He will a mediator Ibe. There must be peace, else yotir whole realm's disjoined. Better 'twere made in a friendly way, than you be forced To it. HENET. True, true ; we will consult with France As to the better mode. A'Becket knows not You are in my service ? EITZUESE. No, deems nie fallen from favor. HENET. Let it be so, but heed him well. Attend me ! [Mceunt. SCENE FIFTH. "Gothic." a'becket and blois. BLOIS. Tom- orders are fulfilled, my Lord — Yet may not Henry injure you still more ? SCENE v.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 4:3 a'becket. • He injure me ? Each wrong he does me falls As sand, a handful thrown aloft, covering whole acres With its particles. Such my revenge shall be — A myriad ills for every wrong he does my country And my friends. At Sens, henceforth, I'U dwell in peace. Out of the range of his hostility, While he'll live troubled with the fear of me. " His Holiness hath bidden me, " in this my poverty," To be " Consoler of the poor." To Henry, begging. He refused a conference, and me appoints His Legate unto England. Most generous act ! Said I not that all worked well ? Trust, trust to years ; We better read the hearts of men than ye . Of tender youth. BLOIS. 'Tis true, my Lord. a'becket. One Alexander, and but one, was to the old world known ; So shall Rome's sacred 'scutcheon his name bear, . Greatest of all her Pontiffs. Such men are offspring Of a thousand years — ^none, none Uke him Shall the next ten centuries see. Ah ! here Albert comes. More news ? Methinks this day Is big with it. Enter Axbeet.J [A'Beckbt, taking letter, reads. What is this ? What is this ? Henry inhibits all appeals, or unto' the Pope Or me ; . declares it treason to introduce Our interdicts into his kingdom, and obliges all Who in England dwell, to swear observance Of these orders, on pain of most dread sufferings. This, this is monstrous ; it were as well that water 44 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT H. Were forbidden ! I'll fiU the world with it ! This is the cause of God ! Go you, and unto Louis Write this, also to Philip of Flanders : " That I suspend the spiritual thunder Over Henry's head, to fall, less timely repentance comes." This will him deprive of all his continental territories, And endanger his power in England. Write this, and messengers dispatch to Rome With news of what I do. I'U be myself once more. I'll nothing with this King ! He yet shall sue To me ! All mediations shall but faster forge The bars keep Henry from my love. Enter John of Saiisbuet.] Ha ! my friend ■ Of Salisbury, what news hast thou ? JOHN OP SAXISBUET. John of Oxford Hath for himself obtained absolution, And resigned his Deanery to the Pope, But, by his appointment, straightway received it back. a'becket. Indeed ! This looks not well for us ! What arts Were used to influence His Holiness ? What more ? SALISBUET. A Bull from the Pope, my Lord, the decree Annulling, did confiscate your goods, But with his prohibition 'gainst excommunicating Any person in England, or interdicting that realm. WhUe he his wish doth indicate, exhorting you To moderation and humility. SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 45 a'bbckbt. To moderation And humility ? I'll see my friend of France — Louis will ne'er desert me. Whence comes this change? To moderation and humility ! And what is this but moderation And humility ? These cloistered courts After my princely halls, and but two friends For aU my regal train — I would for myself be humble, very humble. Humble as the dust. My exaltation were my sure reward, But my poor friends-^my country ! Emb op Act II. ACT m. SCENE PIEST. "Stone" — ^A'Becket's apartment in Monastery at St. Colomba. Enter Loeds De Bboc and Db Teaot. DE TEACT. Is this the love France bears to England, Such princely entertainment to her foes ? DE BEOC. 'Twas ever thus, his seeming modesty Was but the semblance of austerity. 46 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACTIII. A beggar's robe upon a princely couch Proved well this upstart's vanity. DE TEACT. Peace, peace ! He comes DE BEOC. Well ! let him, 'tis but to blind The vulgar he's thus clothed, they never see Aught but the ante-room, and that's the same, A picture of sad poverty. He knoweth well How best to catch the vulgar crowd. My Lord, There's danger here to us and to our rights ! DE TEACT. Once on the shore of England, 'twill go hard But we shall tame his spirit ; escape Were not so easy, had we guarded well. DE BEOC* We'll have no peace while Becket lives to plot. DE TEACT. True, true ! There's something in the air of Prance i How proud grows Lord Fitzurse! DE BEOC. Fair and false ! false and fair ! He counts upon A'Becket's niece's wide domains. I sent some flowers to his lady love, Of fragrance rich and rare, with lines composed By our most sweet queen, in the envelope Came from Lord Fitzurse — (she knew the hand. For he's a dainty scholar) together — With his last words to us, — Sarcastically.] His friends should advance his suit. Lo I here the Archbishop comes. SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 47 Enter A'Becket. DE BEOC. Our gracious Lord Archbishop ! a'becket, aside. Our Lord Archbishop ! — ^no thanks to you I'm so. AloudJ] What would ye, Sirs, with me ? " DE BEOC. A friendly conference. a'becket. I'll send my kinsman to you, Sirs : I hold No private conference — there's a. wide gulf Between the Saxon Primate and the Norman lords. DE TEACT. Tou do mistake us much, my Lord. We come as friends. a'becket. So came the serpent, who beguiled poor Eve, Promising knowledge, which but proved her ruin. DE BEOC. Not so, my Lord. Peruse this letter, 'tis from England's Eng. Aside to De Teact.J Mark him, my friend I a'becket reads — then says — Indeed, 'tis weU — 'tis well. Accept my welcome, most noble Lords, And pardon an old man's petulance. In that I did receive you, formally — Sit ye, and we'll discuss this business. Ho ! Albert. {Enter Albeet. Bid them prepare repasts for fifty knights, — Friends have arrived from France. [Eseit Albert. • How does his gracious majesty ? 48 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT HI. DB TEACT. Well in all things save one— he bade us say, And that, the loss of your society. With this, that with the past its ills were flown, Therefore, in oblivion buried, let aU Vexed questions be, and begs your quick return. a'becket. Bury the past, my Lords ! Do we forget the avalanche has hurled Our stately mansions to the dust, and cast Unto the winds our prosperous fortunes ? Henry asks much — besides, here have I Plenty, honor, ease ; while I in England, At best, should find but lack of love, dishonor. Penury. — No, no, my Lords ; not to use Harsher phrase, this is ungenerous ! DB BEOC. Nay, nay, my Lord ; you and your fiiends shall be restored To all your livings ; and all the benefices That have been filled during your absence Shall be vacated, until supplied by you. He asks but this, that you absolve his ministers. a'beckbt. We wUl confer on this. Albert, attend these lords. Tou must be quite o'erwom with your ride. I thank you for your love, shown in your haste To greet me. Doves had scarce flown faster. DB TEACT. Our seirvice to you. Father. [^Exeunt, a'becket. Falsehood here, falsehood everywhere, methinks The very air is fiUed with it. I scent naught else. Return to England and he'll repair tlft past ! SCENE I.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 49 Restore myself and friends our proud estates — Can he restore the time of which he has robbed me ? Why, what a fool he thinks me ! Will do all this — All this, ay more, so say these lords. Catch me With promises, and birds with lime, when on them Te can lay it, Sirs ! There's something more in this ; Insult to injury. I'll none of it. When I may land On England's shore, backed by my thousands, Then I may return, but never on the strength Of Henry's promise — which, like the Upas, Wins the gazer's eye, but to the trusting touch Is poisonous. And more : there are my private heart-seated wrongs Which stalk around me, though there's lapse of years. 'Twas he who robbed me of my youth's fond hopes, Dishonoring her who was my only pride ! No, no, not so ; I will be just even in my hate : Hers was the sin to me — not his — he knew not of my love. Oh ! I forget — my heart and head grow old — I forgave him then, and took England for my bride. Away, ye selfish thoughts ! Ye must be strangers To the breast of greatness. Enter Mahlpe and Samsbuet. a'becket. My child, here is news from England. Henry craves our return. {^Aside.l Til sound her woman's wit. MATILDE. Tou will not go, dear father. SALISBTJET. Most surely not. 3 50 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT III. a'beckbt. He promises to restore myself and friends Unto our former honors. sausbuet. His promises, my Lord — a'bbcket. Are — SAXISBUET. But sportsmen's calls to lure their prey. MATILDE. You will not go ? a'becket. Should I be afraid, my child ? A'Becket ne'er knew fear, for he is mailed In the garb of faith ! salisbuet. Father, it is not that you fear, but you mistrust ; You know he is treacherous, as hyena fierce, And you'd not renture in his den. Prudence is a manly virtue ! Go not, my Lord, Here are your truest friends, consult with them. Enter Fttzuesb on one side, LircrLLB on the other. a'beckbt. Lucille, my child ! my Lord Fitzurse — ye whom I much do love — ye whom I call mine own, Give me your voices. England here writes (Her lords have just arrived), and begs Our quick return, promising to all our friends Their former state. LUCILLE. Father, you'll not return ! Aside.] Why came Lord Fitzurse here ? SCENE I.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 61 a'beckbt.. Do you counsel thus ? LFCiLLB, kneeling to him. TJpon my bended knee, I do beseech you, Sir, That letter ! [A'Bbcket gima it Tier, Aside.'] The same hand as that to Henry's embassy. Love cannot blind me to the fact, 'tis his, — Fitzurse's ! — Bear up, my heart ! I'U note him well. a'beckbt. And what, Fitzurse, say you ? Salisbfet. I, would not trust his promise. FITZUESE. I, would, my Lord ; Honor and safety unto aU he vouches. LTJCIULE to EITZUBSE. Would you, my Lord? irrzuESE. I would, fair lady. LtrCILLB. Mis promise ! Oh ! Father, do not go, save hostages Be left with France for your security. a'bbckbt. Well thought, my child ! SALISBFET. And deeds, confirming all your rights, Be sent. a'beckbt. So be it. Salisbury, meet me at hour of nine; Lest I^enry trifles, we'll safe bind at once. Each now, to their several pleasures. Exeunt all, except Fitzuesb and Lucille. 52 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCI' HI. FITZTTESE. Sweet flower of Spring, all will be weU ! I heard from Henry by this embassy : There is full power to comply with what A'Becket asks. LUCILLE. My Lord, you, from King Henry, advices have ! Why spake you as you did, when others raised their doubts ? riTZTJESE. I gave my answer unto all they asked. LtrCILLE. My Lord ! My Lord ! Tou gave your answer ! A friend had opened to his friend his heart ; So he his thoughts had read. A follower Should have done so. I would not trust this King, liTor — FITZTTESE. Nor what ? LUCILLE. No matter — FITZUESE. Dost thou reprove ? LUCILLE. Tou heard from Henry ! How could you hold communion with A'Becket's foe ? Fii'zuESE aside. Am I love's slave, that I am questioned thus ? Aloud-I Dost thou reprove, fair maid ? LUCILLE. As does your heart, Does mine ; but oh, what grief, if that it must do so. Aside.] To love, to doubt ! Oh, wretched fate is mine 1 SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 63 riTZUESE. For me, Lucille, these -words ? LTJCILLB. For jjoxi, my Lord ; Or any man, whose smiling face Is but the glittering sheath, covers a heart Would stab its dearest friend. [Fitzfesb starts. You met these lords in private Ere they had seen mine uncle ; a secret conference Held with them ; these facts concealed, when in good faith Consulted. [Fitzttese offers to take her hand. Nay, Sir, your hand's unclean, fresh from the traitor's act. PITZUESE. Lucille ! LirCILLB. Who would be false to him, is false to me ! ErrzuESE. Why this ? How know you that I conference held ? LUCILLE. Your silence to my charge when made ! Aside.] I will not wound him, with these dreadful lines — His letter to the King — assassins of my young heart's hopes. , I've said enough, unless his heart is stone. EITZUESE. 'Twas in your uncle's cause, and thine ; besides, I saw them but a moment. LUCILLE. Would'st thou prevaricate and gloss it o'er to me. My Lord ? — ^you met them. Sir, my imcle's foes, In private, 'tis enough — ^false unto him, You'd be unfair to me. " Candor" is the motto 5i THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT HI. Blazoned on true love's shield ! Farewell ! I am much grieved to find you lack this virtue. Who would have thought you thus could mar The noblest gifts of nature ? Farewell, farewell ! My love is changed to pity. Leave me, Sir ! riTzuESE. Lady, you will repent you of this hour. Farewell ! [ Going. LFCnXE. My Lord, I do repent me of this hour, And many hours past ! May Heaven pardon you. As I do now ! FITZTJESE. Farewell, fair Lady, since it must be so. You will relent. LUCILLE. Never! never 1 FITZUESE. Farewell ! [Mats. LUCILLE. Are there in store for me more bolts like this ? K so, would Heaven they'd fall at once And crush me. a'becket enters. My child, what moves you thus ? Where is Fitzurse ? LUCILLE. Fitzurse ! Fitzurse ! He's false to you, to me. To the whole world ; for aU who knew him. Held him as candor's chUd. Trust him not, Father, trust him not ! [ Giving a letter. Thy letter and these lines, 'Twas the same hand penned both. SCENE I.] THOMAS a'bBOKET. 55 a'begkbt reads. Ha— " A'Becket's friend, who fair- Lucille doth woo, Is Henry's friend, A'Becket's direst foe. Her bridal rites will prove A'Becket's grave. When fair Lucille becomes. Lord Fitzurse's slave." Where found you this ? [ J.sic?e.] 'Tis from Queen Elea- nor! LTTOiLLE, taking -flowers from her bosom. These flowers bore the thorn. I cannot nurse you longer. [Drops them, gently. a'bbckbt. Poison oft lurks beneath earth's fairest fruits I What more knowest thou ? LUCILLE. He saw these lords this morn ; Held private conference, ere you met them. Sir. a'becket. Indeed, was't so ? nor spake when I did question him ? How false ! How foul ! Cheer thee, my child, all sorrows Have their balm ! Go, seek Matilde, I'U summon Salisbury. ' [Exit Lucille. I cannot believe, without the weightiest proofs, That he is false to me. Yet it is his heritage. Him whom I guarded, though unbeknown, ~From t^derest infancy to full-grown pride. I saw the germs of greatness in the boy, And trusted they would bloom in manhood. Thus ever fail our fondest hopes. My poor, poor child ! Why falls this blow on her ? Her, whom I thought Secure as cloistered nun from love-born griefs. 56 THOMAS a'becket. [act in. Sausbttet enters unseen by A'Becket. How vain is man's heedfulness ! Poor girl ! poor girl 1 But thus it is with all — ^how fitful is life ! To-day, in manly pride, as dares the bark The ocean's changefulness, the gallant youth struts, Conscious of his power; hut soon, as sinks Beneath that ocean's frowns the groaning hulk, His crest is lowered by the storm which strikes, Sooner or later, aU who hope to soar High o'er the world's wild waves. Touth is hope's season. Though the seed that's sown, oft yields but sorry harvest. Life is a dream, naught real but the hour. Unstable as the stream, earth's offerings, The sweetest to the taste are joys unhoped. The bitterest sorrow comes when vinforeseen. .Hard seems life's yoke, yet easy 'tis to bear, If mated, but with faith. SALISBTJET. How wonderfully wise ! He's wrapt in thought • On man's flitility. I must disturb his musing. Father! a'becket. My soH, what news ? SALISBUET. Tour terms made known to Henry's embassy. They, having well feasted, would nofo'erwait The night, but posted back again. Methinks, My Lord, he'll grant you any thing, so urgent Were their words. a'becket. 'Tis well ; but hast thou heard What passed between the King of France SCENE I.j THOMAS a'bECKET. 57 And he who is miscalled England's? Thus says a later embassy, just arrived. SAIISBUET. A later embassy ! E'en so. Hear thou their words — Attended by his friends and counsellors, His sovereignty proudly worn, Henry approached Unbending ; his salutation formal, And his words as cold as winds that come From Norseland. 'Twas not the part of France His breath should be^ihe breeze from balmy Southland blows. ' But as exposed, most hostile things produce A genial spark — even from the meeting Of their distant spirits, a flame of love Sprang forth. Right royally forgetting and forgiving, He to those honors of which I was so unjustly reft, With many more, restored me. We wUl to England soon, When unto you, high office I'll intrust. * SAMSBUEY. Bright ray of Peace ! May Heaven be thanked ! a'bbckbt. E'en so — and by its, mercies we are called- In action to proclaim unto the world Our gratefulness. Much is there to be done; The lawless nobles must be curbed, licentious Is the very air of England. Gold, glittering gold, And an unseemly pride, are all these nobles Glory in. Their vassals are oppressed, And the High Church neglected. 3* 58 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT IH. It must, shall, be reformed. This for thine ear alone. [Miter Lucille. What -would you, child ? ^ LUCILLE. The King, our Liege, arrived to-day in France This letter bearing, his lords an audience crave. Grives_ a letter.^ Fearing treachery lurked beneath, I bore it Here myself. What says his Majesty ? a'becket, after reading. We are recalled to all our honors ! The King reposes now some fe^nules hence, His lords of high degree attend me here. SaUsbury, go you and sound them well, Note aU their actions, even their garb observe. The leopard's skin is most in vogue With our nobiUty, and 'neath its beauties Oft a poniard gleams. I fear not, but mistrust. Their purpose known to you, you'll find me here. [Meit Salisbttet. Lucille, my child, pray lay aside this grief, Thou mayst have heavier trials yet in store. LUCILLE. If so, I'll bear them — as I will bear this — Am I not A'Becket's niece ? his child? a'becket. Well said, my idol girl — Tet stay — ^thy beauties now full blown, many there are In England who will strive to pluck the flower From the parent stem — and at thy age the heart Beats not alone with throbbings bom within. But, like the sweet airs heard in verdant vales, Whispers in melodies in ten thousand born. 60ENB I.] THOMAS a'eECKET. 69 LUCILLE. I've done with love — an o'ermastered argosie — I've sunk my young heart's countless wealth In the deep bosom of forgetfulness — Mine uncle dear, hast thou not watched O'er infancy's frail flowers, smiled on their budding, And what you are pleased to call their full-blown Beauties, tended, with parent carefulness ? a'becket. A father's love, no more. LTTCILLE. Yes, more ; a iijother's ! Were you not both to me ? • a'becket. And thou to me,, a child. The purest, dearest moments granted me In a long life, I owe to thee, Lucille. I never knew a parent's love. Though I am risen To greatness, 'twas heart-born grief marshalled me To honor ; since then I have never halted * In my rapid course ; no matter how opposed. All things I made, rungs in ambition's ladder ; In my whole course of life o'erleaping Where I could not level to my wiU, and once, But once, have fallen — and that was, as the flame On sudden dies, to shine with greater brightness. We will prepare for England. [Ltjcille retires. Enter Salisbuet] What say these lords? SALISBFET. All that, to the ear, is fair. a'becket. But to the thought Most foul — ^I read your meaning — speak, my friend. 60 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT HI. SALISBTTET. With every -wish for your success — ^much joy That you to England -will return — smiles, words Such as are used by courtiers, they lauded Henry to the skies, for what he did perforce. Making him centre unto them, his satellites, No more, no more ! a'becket. So greatness ever is attended. Upon the lion's heels thus treads the jackaU, And what he leaves, delights to feed on. Tou met them graciously ! Salisbury, If they can, they wUl sting — we must draw their fangs. Wait they below ? SALISBURY. They do, my Lord. a'becket. We wiU receive them here. " HJxit Saxisbfet and enter Albert. Albert, I may have work for you, await without ; Tour arms are ready ? Cordin and Bassett With you ? I'U knock, should you be needed. Miter Salisbury, Db Tracy, De Mokeville, and Sir Richard Brito. / a'becket. Welcome, Gentlemen! DE TRACY. To the Archbishop of Canterbury Our service — ^welcome to the Primacy once more I a'becket. Thanks, Gentlemen ; thanks ! SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 61 DB MOEBVILLB. The King comrnends himself to you; He would that you, with your fair nieces both, Should grace his court to-night, for soon he goes To Normandy, a'beckbt. Say to my Liege we will attend His pleasure. This hour heralds days of joy To come, rich in the service we may render him ; And beUeve me. Gentlemen, that handmaids meet My children fair wiU be. BEITO. WeU know we that, my Lord, for hearts, ne'er owned The power of love before, unto their beauty Bend the suppliant knee. a'bbckbt. To maiden influence Noble hearts e'er yield a grateful homage ; Their beauty shows not only to the eye. BEITO. So have we learnt, and happy shall we be When we may welcome them to English homes ; We wiU await you in King Henry's palace. a'beckbt. Thanks, my Lord, thanks to aU! Peace be with you. Farewell ! [^Meeunt, So much for their nobility ! Didst note, my Salisbury, how constrained their words, Their actions forced, uneasy — guilty souls They bear about with them^-trust them? Tou know me better — Besides, I have old claims on them — a wrong A'Becket wiU. forgive, but not forget. • 62 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT JU. SAUSBUKT. Such wrongs you never can : use them, but watch them, a'beckbt. We will : prepare a fitting escort to the Court To-night — to-morrow we'U to England. But what should faith professed, prove false ? Louis bade me not trust, save that the kiss Of peace were given — this he will refuse — Bear this forthwith unto the Bishops of London And Salisbury, and to the world make known My sentence of excommunication against thenC Now wiU I fix upon foundation firm As that whereon Albion's white cliffs are based My Empire and my honors. England's glory And the Church's power — ^her people's welfare And her nobles' pride — shall be A'Becket's care. End or Act nx SCENE I.j THOMAS a'bECKET. 63 ACT IV. SCESTE FIRST. A large Hall in De Tracy's Castle, England. Enter Fitzttese. rrrzuESB. Ifew -wonder on new wonder — A'Becket And the King at peace ! No thanks to me for this. The churlish priest ere now had been but dust, Had Henry ta'en my counsel. De Tkact enters. De Tracy, Hast heard the news ? They say, last night, strange things Were seen — water was cast upon a burning pUe And brighter made the flames ; with the furred cat The house-infesting vermin couched ; And the watchful guardian of my house fewned On the thief assailed it ! DE TEACT. 'Tis strange, indeed ! FITZUESE. Yet stranger still is what hath happ'd to-day. DE TEACT. How so ? ETTZUESE. A'Becket and the King are palm in palm. DE TEACY. Bright omen, Fitz., for you! 64 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT IV. FITZTTESE. Indeed ! DE TRACT. May not his fair niece partake the nature of the times ? HTZtTBSE. The sun which gladdens nature's face, ne'er changes His fixed course. The moon, which softly smiles Upon a darkened world, may gild, not chase, the gloom. No change e'er comes o'er these which most delight The world's sad wayfarer. How may the fair Lucille, Then, turn aside and smile where she hath frowned? No, no, De Tracy ! [Aside.'] He shall not read my heart. DE TEACT. In charity. riTZUESE. In charity ! Should Fitzurse prize the hand "Without the heart ? The sun is golden, But without its heat, what would its radiance be ? 'Twould catch the eye, but on the senses pall. De Tracy, I have lived in court and camp ; Wealth, honor, want, despite, have been my lot ; With all there was a void — a lack of something Which I knew not of. When griefs afflicted And when joys assailed, alike 'twas felt. My friend — a loneliness. I knew not whence It came, till fair Lucille I saw. DE TEACT. Why then Too proud to take the hand ? riTZUESE. The hand without the heart ! soEiTi; I.] THOMAS a'becket. 66 DB TEACT. When lovely -woman so regards a man That she'U to him intrust her lot and fortune, Is it not worth more, when springing from esteem. Than when it shoots to life, like the fair flower That blooms at dawn, to close ere noonday comes ? The plant of slowest growth is longest lived, Its shoots the farthest and is firmest fixed ! FITZtTESB. It may be So — ^but love without romance ! DB TRACT. Have done with fancy ! She's a fickle dame ! Her votaries decks in colors false and fleeting. Tour nature has too much of the bright cUme Wherein your youth was passed. The wave which sparkles May a poison bear, when raised unto the lip, While sluggish waters will the fainting form Awake to hfe and strength ! If fair Lucille but smiles ! riTZTTESE. Alas ! how can she ? DB TEACT. Deem that she prizes justly your true worth, !N"ow longer, better known. Here are De Moreville And Sir Richard Brito. JEnter Db Moeeville and Sib Richaed Beito. Welcome, Gentlemen ! My Lord Fitzurse, Sir Richard Brito and De Moreville here Have ever found a home. We once were a merry crew ; 66 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT IV. Let's be as merry as the times permit. Ho ! boy, there ! — Avine. [To Fitzuese.J Come, Sir, be one of us. prrztTESE. With all my heart ! Here's to yoii. Gentlemen ! Why, 'tis as. good as is your speech, De Tracy — A free and generous wine. DE TEACT. Thanks, noble friend ! Here's imto all, long life and happiness ! Why hangs, Fitzurse, this cloud upon your face ? Tour manly spirit should o'erlook the ills Of life, and smile at frowning fortune. Clear, clear thy brow, and let it shine as does The mountain's top, high o'er the thimder-storm. irrZTTESE. It shall. Yet gives not the mist enshrouds the mount From view, a richer beauty to it, when 'tis seen ? DE TEACT. Ay, truly ! But a trupe to jesting ; what ill Afflicts you ? ETTZTJESB tO DE MOEEVILLE. Thou hast heard the news ? A'Becket And the King at peace ! ■DE MOEEVILLE. At peace ! Is't from that quarter That this storm-cloud comes ? Strange ! strange, indeed ! A'Becket has a niece, my Lord. [Fitztjese, impatient. To De Teact.] You've seen the fair Lucille ? DE TEACT. When but a child. DE MOEEVTLLB. The loveliest flower boasts not the richest bud. SCENE I.j THOMAS a'bECKET. 67 ETTZUESE. Most true ! Yet, is not Lucille beautiful ? Aside.] I hoped, A'Becket outworn with grief, Lucille, our Liege's ward, I might have won her. Her wealth would prop my falling fortunes. Though her disprize should chill my heart. DE MOKEYTLLB. The fairest maid e'er seen ! Fair Venus' prototype ! Tou loved her once ? EITZtTESB. And if I'd live must win her. "WUl not A'Becket strive so to please our King, As in his favor henceforth e'er to live ? Henry's command might find a willing ear, Were the past brought to mind. BEITO. "Wouldst thou threaten the great A'Becket ? You know him not, my Lord. His surplice clothes As stout a heart as ever armor cased. Shrinks the firm-based rock from wave That may overwhelm it ? Who'd dare so much As name the word, to threat? His glance Would fall on him like Heaven's thunderbolt ; His stately mien, awe-filling, strike him mute ! I am a soldier, one who has borne arms From youth to age, and yet would brave the serried ranks Rather than face that tongue's keen irony. Oh ! be advised by me. DE MOEiiVJLLLE. Sir Richard well doth speak. King Henry's favorite and A'Becket's friend, Your suit were easily gained, never as his foe. 68 THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT IV. Render the Primate favors — ^he'll not frown ; And then, in gratitude, his niece's thoughts Will turn to you ; her heart float down the silver stream Of peace, and fancy bear it through its flowery brakes, To the glittering source whence all her new joys spring. De Tracy, thinkst not so ? DE TRACT. Tou counsel well, my Lord — And yet, Fitzurse, the hand without the heart ! rrrzTjESE. That matters not ! I'll wear her, if not win her ! The ray that woos the verdant mead, dispels The mist enshrouds it from its heat. So shall my heart's fond love the tear that dims- LucUle's bright eye, and 'neath its warmth new beauties bring To light. Now let's to Court, my Lords ! BETTO. Wouldst wrest The flower from the parent stem, where it would bloom For many a day, to see it fade and fall Within the hour? ErrztrBSE. A'Becket rules this reahn but as I rule her heart I DE lIOEEVrLLE. Believe me, my Lord, Its rich gem gone, the casket's not worth having ! EITZUESE. Leave that to me, my arms shall be its setting. I'm for the Court. [^Exit. SCENE n.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 69 » DE TEACT. Sol! So all! There shall we see if he is Fortune's child — rU save this maid, unless she loves, from love so wild. [Meeunt. SCENE SECOND. Porcli to the King's Ante-room. HERALD. The Lord Archbishop comes ! HENKT. We vdll descend and greet him As om' brother. [To Fitztjesb.] Note him, young Lord! A'Becket enters in great state, he and his suite mounted. Welcome, my Lord Archbishop, to my Court ! A.'becket, dismounting. My service to your Majesty. HENET. We gave this audience that, your wishes learnt, Once more we might be friends — we have no need Of words — what is your wish ? a'becket. First, that, being your subject, You free pardon grant for all that's past. HENET. 'Tis thine. a'bbcket. Then,- as being England's Primate, That you restore to me the Church of Canterbury, All its possessions, and your royal favor. 70 THOMAS a'bECKET. [AOT IT. With promise on my part of love and honor, And whatsoever may be performed by an Archbishop Unto his sovereign. HBNET. "Tis granted all — all's thine — Herewith unto my favor I receive you And your friends. Go, for a time, with me To Normandy, where we may labor for our subjects' good. a'becket. Long absent from my friends and country, Sire, 'T would please me, had I leave, straightway to sail For England. HBNET. Tour pleasure is mine, my Lord, to England Let it be. My Court in Normandy is ever thine. When it shall please your Holiness. a'becket. Thanks, my Liege ; thanks ! HEIUET. " Would you but do as I desire, all things Should be intrusted to your care." a'becket. It shall be so. HENET. 'Tis well ! At Rouen you wiU find meet preparations made ; And her Archbishop your escort to England. Now unto Court ; where we in harmony, Amid our assembled friends, will close the day. Bring here our steeds. [Exeunt attendants. The horses are brought/ A'Becket prepares to mount, when the King holds his stirrup. a'becket. Nay, pardon me, my Liege ; this is not meet 1 SCENE in.] THOMAS a'bEOKET. 71 HENET. The monarch, of the realm makes all things meet ; Moimt, my Lord Primate ! a'bbcket. Nay, nay, my Liege ! HENET. I will be King, even in my courtesies. a'becket. So be it. [jK?sses the King's hand and mounts. HENET. On to the Court, my Mends ! \All mownA and ride off. SCENE THIRD. The Court. Lords and Gentlemen in waiting. Enter Fitztjese, De Teaot, De Moeeville, and Sie Richaed Beito. EITZtTESE. Lo ! where they come ! How loving, palm in palm ! DE TEACT. 'Tis SO ! Stand back, my Lords ! The King ! Miter King Henet, and A'Becket, and attendants. HENET. My Lords and Gentlemen, receive once more My reverend counsellor and loving friend, Thomas A'Becket, Primate of England, Of Canterbury Archbishop, unto our favor. And all those honors so justly his, herein restored. Respect him, as you love me. 72 THOMAS A'bECKET. [ACT IV. ALL. "Welcome to the Lord Primate ! a'becket. Thanks unto all I Thanks unto your Majesty, That you have so o'erstepped the bounds Of kingly condescension, thus to the Court Presenting me. [Aside.J Pour oil on ruffled ■waves. For when the storm's just o'er, their swell is highest. Aloud-I Though time has changed the mortal part of him Here unto you returned, the immortal soul Has grown most strong in sacred learning ; Holding communion with those happier climes Where virtue only reigns. That realm alone Higher is than England's, and on the faults And failings of mankind looks with more kindly eye. My noble Lords, here see I those I called my friends, and found my foes I But, with my blessing on you all, accept From me free pardon of the past. Let the volume of your hate be sealed. So far as aught's recorded against me ; Mine did I long since hi^rl far down the past's abyss. Look to the motives which did move me once, The means I used you'll find were just. LOEDS. He would uphold the past ! Treason to our King ! a'becket. Peace awhile ! Let not iU-tempered haste Dash into atoms the fraU cup of love I ofier To yom- lips. Here is no treason ! I would that Church and State Were as twin brothers, linked in amity ; SCENE ni.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 73 United, they shall stand till time's no more ; Divided, they must fall ere set of sun. Discontent among the Lords.^ My Liege, command that silence reign, else our good purpose fails ; And all that's done be but as words written On the sea-shore's sands. HEITET. Peace, my Lords, peace ! Who speaks, His King offends. My Lord High Primate asks Attentive ears. a'bbcket. In our honored King, my Lords, the father Of this great realm, you see the pride, the power Of England — in me, the instrument of Heaven ; An humble agent of its blessed will. What were our King disrobed, dethroned ? What were the priest, stripped of his sacred office? Foes are there who'd delight in Henry's fall ! Foes are there who do long for my dishonor ! The heart must entertain and harbor vice, Ere the seducer's voice can steal Into its curtained chambers, and rob it of its jewel. Remember this ; be true unto yourselves, Your King, your country. Tou'U find Truth's legions Are your best resource. All are but men — ^yet he Who worthiest beajs his charge, adds honor to his honors. Your ear, my King. DE MOEBvnxB, aside. How bold a tongue he has ! BEITO. Said I not so ? - 4 74 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [act IV. DB TRACT. And yet, how gilded is his speech ; It falls upon the ear as on the eye the sun ; So dazzling it doth dim, and bears the mind Along;, unconscious of the course it takes. FITZ0ESE. He's very dangerous — ^his speech is serpent-like — It charms but to destroy ! "Were he but dumb I then could master him. I fear this peace is short. DB TRACT. Ha ! the King's brow doth cloud. My Liege, why so ? A'BECKET. The kiss of peace refused ! A vow I made precludes its gift. a'beokbt. The conference, then, is o'er. The bond, Without the seal, were valueless. My Liege ! My Liege ! think well of this. 'Tis a slight gift — A gift when given not gone, so rich the return 'Twill yield. My King, retract thy vow ; the Church Permits. A'Becket then is yours — we must be friends. Aside.] I must not sue. I, who so soon enthroned Shall be, high over aU earth's kings. StiU my country speaks. To Henrt.] Your realm demands it, a people's groans mourn Their sad miseries ; and a distracted land — Most eloquent counsellor in my cause — Pleads loud for it. SCENE ni.j THOMAS a'bECKET. 16 HBN'ET. It may not be. What England says Must be — our word, our bond. riTZTTESB. My Liege, the price That's paid cancels the bond. Here, see the smiling face Of lovely peace ; there, dire war's frowninsc brow, \ With aU its attendant horrors. I HENET. You counsel peace, Young Lord, who ever were for war? You lack not courage ! Has he sought to bribe you, my tried follower ? a'bbckbt, scornfully. To bribe ! MTZtTESE, To bribe ! Could I be bribed, my brow had never worn This deep gash which now it bears, a valued trophy Of the day I met the blow, were else my King's. HENRY. ' True, true, I've wronged you ! a'becket, aside. • Not the first wrong you've done him, Fouled in his birth, not even though King, Canst thou cleanse him. / HBNET. Take here my thanks, young Lord ! While thus reminded of a deed, till now forgotten — One you should be proud of, wear this sword. For years my constant friend ! As I have worn it So I'll wear you ; ever my counsellor Both ia Court and camp. When your King finds True merit, he rewards it. Is it not so, A'Becket ? 76 THOMAS a'bECKET. [AOT IV. a'becket. I thought so once, my Liege, and much it pains me, That this hour should be a witness against that thought. It shall not be so. The kiss of peace may not be yours, A vow made in an hasty hour precludes it. But come unto my heart. XThey embrace. My Lords, this day does unto England bear Unheard of blessings. A prosperous people Are the greatest riches which a land can boast. To A'Becket.J Herein do I restore you to my love. As I already have unto your honors. I must away to Normandy. Preserve my reahn In peace. Farewell to all ! a'becket. Farewell ! most gracious Majesty 1 May Heaven's choicest blessings be with you, And honor, love, and a long life be yours. HENET. Thanks unto atfl* Farewell ! Mceunt the Kikg and his attendants except Fitzuesb. a'becket. My friends, we wiU prepare for our return To Canterbury. [Fitzuesb approaches. Young Lord, you have well spoken ; And though I had preferred some other's voice. My thanks are due to you. irrziTESE. Father, receive it as an act Was due from one has wronged you much, SCENE in.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 77 Owes you great favors. . May 1 not claim your pardon For the past, since you have said that all foregone is for- gotten ? a'bbckbt. Pardon, I may not grant. Tou have my prayers That yovi will ever walk in honor's footsteps. Whate'er the toil in tracing them, they at least "Will lead to pleasure and to peace. FITZTJESB. It shall be so. When may I wait on you ? a'becket. When I return to England. EITZUESE. Not before ? my suit is urgent. a'becket. And my cares are many. FITZUESE. None, none so great as mine — A young heart's hopes. a'becket. Rash youth, touch not upon that cllwd, Whole seas of misery are in those words ! ErrztTESE. Hast known love ? Thou knowest what I do feel. Past words, past thought, for reason holds no sway, When love gives birth to hope ! a'becket. Love ! profane not with thy lips T That holy word. 'Twas made for angels ! \ Mortals know it not ! I eitzuese. What mean these words ? 78 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [aCT IV. a'becket. Impatient, wayward, and wilful from thy yonth, I hoped thou wouldst to honor grow. Unknown to you, I nursed you in your infancy. Watched o'er your boyhood, and when to manhood grown, Sought to instill all generous sentiments. You know not how I loved you ! I had a niece, the only heing who did bear my blood, Sole surviving daughter of a sister loved Only as angels are ; as bright, as good, As beautiful as they. Ton wooed her. Deeming you were the soul of honor, your faults The faults of generous youth — your suit I favored. The lady's eyes found grace was in your form, And gave admittance in her guileless heart To your too potent wooing. And I was glad, For you I had preferred to all the glittering throng "Who wooed my niece. I looked on this As the sheet-anchor of my declining years. I thought that my solicitude for you Would be rewarded by your tender care Of her I loved so well — that she would be Incentive imto you to every noble deed — And thus together you would walk In honor. But no ! not so ! The lurking devil showed His cloven foot. Tour angel read deceit Upon your brow, and handed me this letter. riTZUESE. Ha ! is it so ? What fiend was't gave it her ? Give ! give it me I that I may track him down I SCENE in.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 79 a'bbckbt. 'Na.j, it matters not ! Thou ownest its truth By thy hasty -words — the heart that's new in crime Betrays itself. Thou canst not wear the coronet Had heen thine. Dishonor now is seared Upon thy brow. piTZTJESE, touching his sword. Tome! a'beckset. Darest threaten ! The curse of Rome — FiTZTTESE, kneeling. Stay ! stay ! those dreadfdl words ! a'becket. / I do relent. I will not curse thee, tho' thou merit it. The serpent's curse was on thee from thy birth ! Thy wrongs array thee 'gainst thy fellow-men ! Kneel then ! though thou mayest sting my heel ('Tis all thou canst do), I wiU not bruise thy head. FiTzuESE kneels.] * Kneel at this whitened -sepulchre of lofty aspirations And repent. It is the holy teaching of my Church, Repentance never comes too late to any man. I End of Act rv. 80 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT V. ACT v. SCENE EIRST. Hall in Palace at Canterbury — A'Beoket alone. a'becket. Land of my birth ! my wBal, my woe ! all hail ! All hail ! Ton yet shall be my grave ! My grave ? And have I toiled through life for this ? — for this Alone? Is this the whole of man's brief tale, the sum Of his mortality ? Of dust we're bom, like dust we're buffeted By fortune's fickle winds, at most but fourscore years or so, And then to dust return. Oh ! sickening thought ! The loathsome grave and its vile myriads Disgust man with his nature ! But that a higher destiny awaits The soul immortal, here doth own at best A slight brief tenancy, how worse than valueless Were life, that principle which still doth live Through all the changes of mortality — This it must be ! yea ! yea ! 'tis this that makes Us struggle through the lUs on us attend. From cradled infancy to the grave of age. LucnxE enters. Ah ! my fair Lucille ! What ? tears in your old home ? Give not way to grief! 'tis the medicine Of the soul, wisely administered, By an imerring hand. SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bEOKET. 81 1T7CIIXE. I know this well, dear Father, and its truth I feel — but my grief is so heavy 1 'Tis dreadful Thus to have the heart's first flowers crushed In their bloom ! To have the name, I once so fondly hoped That I should proudly bear, dishonor's synonym!. Alas ! my poor, weak woman heart ! I thought I had o'ermastered thee, but thou o'ermasterest me ! Thy tendrils are too firmly fixed within ray breast, For even the direst wrongs to root it out. a'becket. True 'tis, my chUd, that it is dreadful ; But the hand that wounds will heal. LUCILLE. Oh, would it might ! For since that most dread hour When I first learnt his perfidy — Ah me. That I should call it so ! — N"ot even one instant Have I been alone. My grief is everywhere — Its melancholy notes I hear at dawn, High o'er the lark's ; the woods by day, But with its plaintive melody are fiUed ; And when night comes, her hideous birds Haunt me, where'er I wander — and then When sleep's sweet hours draw nigh, most frightful dreams Hover about my couch in hosts. Oh, Father ! Life is dreadful at such cost ! a'becket. Join the gay crowd, My chUd. CaU to memory's chambers Blithesome thoughts ; their fragrance will refresh Your wounded spirit, and healing bring thy soul. Time is the grand disposer of events — the hour Of joy win come ! 4* 83 THOMAS a'bECKBT. [AOT V. LUCILLE. The hour of joy ! a'beckbt. That was my -word — Remember, you are A'Becket's niece. LUCILLE. IwiU, And be his child. I'll think those scenes of pleasure, — Long since flown — sounded depths, I thought "were * fathomless. And seek for rock-based charms. a'bbcket. 'Twere well ! But leave me, child ! One who hath wronged me much Craves a brief interview, and comes e'en now. LUCrLLB. Is it Fitzurse, that you'd not have me here ? Forgive him ! Oh, forgive him. Father, for my sake ! Alas ! that ever I should have betrayed The Lord I loved ! — but was he not imworthy ? How wretched must he be, his fair fame gone ! Spare him 1 oh ! spare him, Father ! a'becket. Be comforted, my child. I win ! I win ! [Kissing her."] There 1 there I be com- forted ! I'll leave him to himself — Let conscience be his monitor. [Exit Lucille. Alas ! sweet maid, child of misfortune ! Untimely bom, you cost a widow'd mother's life. But here he comes. How can I e'er forget the past ? By him this fair field ravaged — all its flowers felled ! Enter Fitzuese.] What would you, Sir ? be brief SCENE I.j THOMAS aIbECKET. 83 ITTZTJESE. Then, to be brief, your pardon. a'beckbt. Take it, Math this request, That we may meet no more. FITZUESE. There is a name I fain ■would lisp. a'becket. N"ay, name it not, it is too pure for lips Like thine. FITZUESE. Oh ! say, she is well ! a'beckbt. As well as one So deeply wronged can be. Farewell I farewell ! Tou have my pardon. Pray, leave me now. You call To memory hfe'a heaviest hours, which I would fain for- get. FITZUESE. Oh t grant that I may labor in your cause ; Restore myself unto your favor ; regain your niece's love. a'beckbt. Art mad ? FITZUESE. I trust not, Fathei*. May I not see her ? a'beckbt. Go gaze upon the lily the whirlwind hath crushed ; Tou'U see her image without painiag her. Leave me, Sir ! [Stands lost in thought. FITZUESE, aside. Alas ! why had King Henry's will more weight Than my dishonor ? 84 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT V. Aloud.] 'TisweU! IwiUI Farewell! Ruler of England, and Lord Primate, too ! If Fitzurse lives, this hour you shall rue. [£Jxit. Miter Samsbuet. SAIISBUET. My Lord, those Bishops did refuse to take the oath, And straightway sailed for Normandy. a'becket. Is't so ? "Now comes a storm ! SAXISBTTET. The young prince doth refuse To meet you, and commands that you remain Within the Church's verge. a'becket. From Prince Henry, this ? I had not believed it, came it not from you ; He ever was to me a son ! salisbuet. All those of note Who welcomed your return, are summoned To give bail, upon a charge of base sedition ! a'becket. This from King Henry ? Well, I can thunder too ! I'U issue an excommunication Against his dearest friends : the Lords De Vere, Clifford, and Montreuil. See this done upon the instant. JEksit Sausbitet. Enter Albeet, ushering in Reginaij) dh WAEEiTSTB and Geevase de Coenhill. Welcome ! my noble Lords, what is your pleasure ? EEGLtfAlD. Straight as your question is our reply : We come as ministers of the King, demanding why SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECEET. 85 On York's Archbishop you have passed Sentence of suspension, and against London And Salisbury, exconununication ? a'becket. We recognize no right, either in yourselves, Or him, "whose ministers ye claim to be. My reasons to demand for this, or any other act I BEGIN AID. Is it come to this ? Indeed, our Henry is but King In name ! Mean you, my Lord, to bring both fire and sword Upon our afflicted .land ? a'becket. My acts will answer that. COENHILL. The Lords De Broc, and itfigel de Saotville, "What of them and their many friends ? a'becket. But this — since by their acts they've brought Heaven's thunder upon their heads ; they must find In other place than this, the power shall shield Them from its fury. Go ask their injured tenantry What they deserve ! Nay, nay, nay, nay, not ask ; But look upon the ruined father And his polluted chUd ! You'll find there's many such. Let this be my reply : the interest of my land I» my first thought. Henceforth know, noble Lords, That as the populace of England need a friend ,To guard them from oppression. That friend they have in me ! j 86 THOMAS a'bBCKET. [aOT V. BEGIN AU). By this we know your feelings towards ourselves ; And nothing's, left to say, but fare-you-well ! IMceunt. a'becket. Farewell to you ! What mean these haughty nobles ? Shall their cold words, or theii" unmanly threats Turn me from duty's path — even tho' the cries Of injured ianocence feU not each instant On my ear ? Oh ! poor nobility, thou wronged name ! Thy nature has descended to the serf; There ! there alone, we find you, robed in rags ! Henry wiU know me now, for York, the chronicler Of each day's pettiest acts, has fled to Baieux ; Where England's King, like the huge monarch Of all creeping things, will. For the pleasure of the hour, make him but one day's feast. Fie on such men ! Ho ! Albert, ho ! [Enter Albert. Bear this to Lord Salisbury instantly. Command immediate execution of my will. Exit Albert.] Fitzurse is dangerous. Banishment or the grave, His choice ! Enter Saxisbuet, in haste. SAXISBXJET. Father, why this ? a'becket. 'Tis my will, my son ! SALISBtTET. Fitzurse hath friends ! _ a'becket. So hath A'Becket. Albert, bid my Lord of Blois Come hither J SCKNE I.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 87 / SAIISBITET. Father, pray hear me ! He once was held By you in honor. For no known offence has fallen From your favor ! a'beoket. Men's offences are not always known To the world I SAIISBTTEY. Most true, any Lord ! But, upon what pretence May I fulfil your order ? a'beoket. On what pretence ? On none I Hast lived so long with me and not know This ? But you are slothful in this business. I must have those about me who will act My very thoughts ! SALISBtTET. (And is this my reward? a'beoket. For what ? SALISBTTET. Unbounded love for you ! Great sufferings, And service from my boyhood until now ! Father, I will away, and bid him hence ; You're over anxious ; this would make you Ungenerous. a'beoket. Poor boy ! it is enough. I've worn you Ever by my side, as the warrior wears his sword ; A graceful weapon, thinking the blade true steel, 8 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT V. But on the contest, finding it poor etuff, ■> Casts it away ! I wish no meanly tempered weapon For my use ! SAllSBTJET. Pardon, my Father, I spoke not thus In aught save reverence. I would not you should do What the world might scan. Men's deeds live after them! a'becket. True, true, you're right, my friend ! They do ! they do ! At least some men's do. I was too hasty. Give me the order ; mine I would have printed In the type of justice ! for what is therein clothed, Shall until Doomsday live ! Bid him to me. Exit Saiisbttet.] \En.ter Blois. BLOIS. Father, news has arrived, Fitzurse has fled The realm in rage ! denouncing you and yours, And swearing vengeance ! a'becket. Indeed! and whither? BLOIS. I fear to Baieux. ABECKET. To Baieux ! To horse ! to horse ! There's danger in his thunder! Speed to the nearest port! Here, take this seal ! Arrest him on the instant ! Oh ! would that I were young again ! I'd post myself, But that this poor mortality is too feeble grown To bear my soul's desires ; messengers I wUl dispatch to every sea-port town, SCENE I.j THOMAS a'bECKET. ' 89 With orders to arrest him, though at cost of life ! He, of all men, I fear — for he is false ! And falsehood is more deadly in its touch Than dagger's venomed point. Enter Salisbuet.] SaUsbury, what now ? SALISBUET. Fitzurse has fled to Henry ! a'becket. How know you this ? SALISBTJET. Your trusty Hugh is here. * Miter Hugh, a'becket. How know you this ? HUGH. I saw him take a fisher's boat, And, cursing you, bid them spread aU sail And steer for France. He knew me not. Deeming his errand hostile imto you, My Lord — a marc the bribe — ^I straight despatched. With those I knew to trust, the fastest craft That England's waters boast, with orders to arrest him. a'becket. Well done, my son ! But were your orders sealed ? HITGH. They were. When last you went to France you gave me this. Your seal. — [Showing ring.] a'becket. Well thought in thee ; bring me the earUest news of him. Farewell, my sons ! Pray leave me all awhile, I am o'erwrought to-day. [^Exeunt. 90 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT V. Fitzurse fled to Baieux ! Dread news for me ! his voice has too much power With our King. Te noiseless ministers, Who do in silence watch o'er t\e troubled spirits Of this world ! oh, guard with me this hour ! Dread horror strikes deep into my careworn heart. Must I give o'er — all frustrated my schemes ! AU efforts vain ! Toiled have I oft By aid of Heaven's hosts from dawn to dawn. Ever, but brief and faint like glow-worm's glimmer Hath proved my rest. Pleasures I've tasted — So the worldlings say — they were as dear-bought. And when won, as trite, as galley slave's reward. Rest ! rest ! — there is no rest for me ! Ambition, Bitter, bitter are thy fruits ! Man fights for bubbles. And but bubbles gains. This is the song of all — And yet 'tis dear, as dear as is his mistress' voice, Heard by the lover in his midnight dreams. Ambition ! avarice ! glory ! love ! Te aU but golden lures, do shine and sparkle Like night's spirits on your way, marking a course Uncertain at the best. Phantoms which all men chase. Yet all elude. A brief short hour of joy Of life's long days, is aU that I have known. Enter Lucille — A'Beckbt entranced. Beautiful spirit ! thou who leddest my heart, 'Mid heavenly hannonies, to those rich-gemmed courts Where loving spirits meet, bring comfort, courage. And a firm resolve from thy blessed realms to me. That I may bear the trials of this hour, and rule. SCENE I.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 91 Where others reign. Ah ! my fair chUd, is't thou ? Did I then but dream ? LUCZLLB. Alas, you did ! for I am yet but mortal. a'becket. Nay, say not so. Consider, sweet, those words But as the air, passes unheeded by. LUCILLE. Why so, dear Father ? Should we then shame to own our loves ? a'becket. N"ot so ; But rather keep them to ourselves, as gems The miser stores, unknown to the world, to feast Upon in solitude. Come, child, within. A trump heard.l There's news, I hear, from France — wUl need my care. Attend on me To-morrow. Good-night! good-night! LtrCILLE. Grant me but this — ^forgiveness for Fitzurse, For though I would not wed him, I have my heart O'ertasked, and fancy I may have wronged him. a'becket. Nay ! nay ! it is too true ! too true ! Hereafter we will speak of this. Good-night, Sweet child ! Kind angels hover o'er thee ! [Mceunt. 92 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [ACT V. SCENE SECOND. Hall in Baieiix: Palace. Enter Hbnet and Aechbishop of Toek. HENET. My Lord Archbishop, what brings you here from Tork ? TOEK. Suspended by the Primate of your realm, I could but flee to you. HENET. Suspended ! on what grounds ? TOEK. Grounds, my Liege ? did this A'Becket e'er require Grounds ? His wiQ ! his wiU ! my Liege — no more. HENET. Are you alone the sufferer by this act ? TOEK. No ! would to Heaven I were ! London And Salisbury both have fled the realm And hasten hither. Their excommunication Reached them also. HESTET. Impossible ! Is't true ? How know you this ? TOEK. From their own lips I heard it. HEITET. What would this churlish priest ? What needs he more ? TOEK. Methinks, your crown. You'll ne'er know peace, my Liege, While this A'Becket lives. SCENE n.J THOMAS' a'bECKET. 93 HElfET. Raze from the calendar the day he came to life : Blot from my statute-book his seals. Oh, Heavens ! Am I but king in name ? Enter Db Tbact, De Moebtille, and Sib Richard Beito. HENET. What news, my Lords, from England ? DE TRACT. My Liege, your Primate doth reftise The Lords De Broc and SackviUe to restore. HENET. Indeed ! Must I endure all this ? " Are ye aU cowards, Who do eat my bread ? Is there not one Will free me from this turbulent priest ?" I will to England straight. Attend on me. My Lords. \Exeunt all except De Moeeville, Db Tract, anc?BRiTO. DB MOEEVHiE. Heard'st th«u that, De Tracy ? DB TEACT. Ay, and will act on it ! Sir Hugh 'De Moreville, TouVe no love for A'Becket ? DE MOEEVILLB. Not I ; nor you, Sir Richard. BEITO. Not a jot, my Lord ! but I do love my King. DB MOEEVILLE. Say rather, yourself— fall he, fall you. We'U meet at Saltswood, and should you Fitzurse see. 9-i THOMAS a'bECKET. [aCT V. Bring him -with you. His wrongs demand revenge. Tour hands — Here do we swear to rid him of this Priest. [Mseunt. SCENE THIRD. "Wood near the Arelibishop's Palace. FiTZTJESE enters. Why bend my footsteps hither, on their way to death ? When last they trod these shady woods, her voice Fell like the music of harmonious streams, Taking their sinuous way through flowery brakes. Then spring was in her bloom, and my glad heart Melodiously sang, tuned to the key Her choristers warbled in. Now all In winter's icy garb is clad, and the heart's blood Then flowed so warm and fast to every note Of suffering — ^now is all curdled By my many wrongs, and throbs but with the hope Of keen revenge. Come on ! come on ! Though thou shouldst strike a benefactor's heart ! Come to thy work ! thy longed-for work ! Be steady thou, my hand ! no paltering now ! Did he not stay me on my way to France, And force return to England ? Now I wiU wait on him. Enter De Moeevtlke. Well met, De MoreviUe ! What meaneth this, old Mend ? Tour looks estranged, and on your brow I read The workings of a troubled spirit. SCENE III.] THOMAS a'bEOKET. 95 DB MOEEVIIiE. The poor old man ! A'Becket is doomed I riTZUESE. The poor old man ! A'Becket doomed ! What of that ? Tet how so ? Why should I feel for him ? He never felt For me, in aU my sufferings. DE MOEEVILLE. What sufferings? EITZUESE. Sufferings ! The sharp pangs of the young heart — The heart that feels more keenly in one hour Than age's in a year ! Remember, my dear Lord, Tou broached this business first to me ; Whate'er had been my thought, it knew no word — no act. DE MOEBVrrXB. True, true, but thou art warm 1 I come prepared, And with me other of our friends, to do The deed our King shall thank us for. Wilt thou be one of us ? FITZUESE. Iwill! Albm:rt passes by.] Ho! there! Say to your master The Lord Fitzurse craves his ear. Enter De Beoc.J Well met, my Lord ; Come not De Tracy and Sir Richard with you ? To De Moeevxlle.] They did appoint this hour. 96 THOMAS A'bECKET. [AOT V. DB MOEBVlXtE. They did, but should they fail ! I'lTZUESE. They'll never fail ! Tou're pale, De Moreville ; Dost thou fear? DB MOEEVUXE. De MoreviUe fear ! Lo ! where they come. Enter Db Tbact and Sie Richaed, DE TEACT. My Lords, are ye prepared ? EITZUESE. We but await your coming. Who shall demand the conference ? BEITO. Yourself I You have most cause for hate, most reason For the deed. EITZTJESE. True, true, I have most reason. Revenge doth urge me on ! while ye have But your King's dark hints. BEITO. Which unto me's enough. Enter Albeet. ALBEET. My Lord awaits you, Sir. EITZTJESE. I win attend on him. Wait ye without. Exeuntl\ SCENE IV.j THOMAS a'bECKET. 97 SCENE FOURTH. Palaoe at CanterlDury — A'Becket's Eoom. a'bboket. Why comes lie back ? I do mistrust the man ! How heavy is the air — ^it bodes a storm ! My children all away ! would they were here ! No news from Eome to-day ! nor Henry's Court ! "Tis strange ! 'tis very strange ! Things all seem Out of tune — even my heart beats In less healthful time than is its wont ; But I am old, and cannot look in age For that which youth may boast. Lo ! where he comes With stealthy step ;• why not vdth manly tread ? — That herald of an honest heart ! I will not fear Him, nor his friends, come they in hosts I riTzuESB, bowing. Most Holy Father ; The KiQg a'becket. He would have known better than to have sent You to me I Would you deceive me ? When saw you The King ? Dost thou not fear my rage ? FITZTJESK. There's terror in the whirlwind's, but I see it not ; Why, then, should I fear yours ? a'becket. Audacious youth! What would you. Sir ? Your errand, quickly — here, on this spot — And instantly ; though I had rather it should be From any tongue, than thiae ! A traitor's voice so angers me 1 5 98 THOMAS a'bECKET. _ [aCT V. FITZDESB. York, London, and Salisbury, at Henry's feet Have fallen. a'becket. There let them lie ! What's that to me ? Yet speak. FITZTTESE. The King commands they be restored to honor. a'becket. And you have borne this message ! What, should I not comply? FITZTJESB. His anger! a'becket. Thunder is heard.l His anger ! Hearest thou that blast ? AsideJ] What bodes this wintry thunder ?. FITZTTESE. I do. a'becket. On it, that Monarch's anger rides. Whom I alone do fear. FITZUESE. To Henry, this ? a'becket. To Henry ! ay, to Henry ! I've spoken it to Heaven ; why not to Henry ? FiTzuESE, aside. There is but this a'becket. What sayst ? Speak out ! You fear To bear my answer to this mock king ! Poor slave. SCENE IV.] THOMAS a'bECKET. 99 I pity thee ! Oh ! the worst master of the slave Is — slave ! FITZFESE. Tome? a'beoket. Ay, Sir! To you! Enough ; leave me ! I am weary of this ; You have my answer ! riTZUESE. A slave ! a'beckbt. That was my word ! Leave me ! FiTzuESE, aside. 'Now win I do it. No, no, once more I'U see Lucille ; There'll be an hour for this. [Mnt. Miter Matilde and Ltjcille. a'beoket. My child ! my child! my children, both! Thus e'er come Heaven's rays in gloomiest hours ! All safe ! I feared for you ; so wild the storm ! My heart is softer than it was of yore ; So grows the oak with age. MATILDE. Tou are troubled, father ; What new grief? a'beoket. One I once loved was here. But oh ! he's fallen, like the roseate cloud That sinks away in darkness ; the admiration Of my wondering eye, begrimed and black with sin. LFCILLE. But others come, as roseate as was this. 100 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [aCT V. a'becket. This from thee, sweet child of sorrow? I had not sought From thy fair brow, philosophy ! But grief Is a chastener to the virtuous heart, From which, when bruised, as from the rose When crushed, the richest perfume springs. I must prepare for vespers. Rest ye here. Enter Fitzuese.] \Ex,it A'Becket and Matilde. LtrCILLE. Fitzurse ! FITZTTESE. The same. ^ LUCILLE. Asicle.'\ I must bear up. [7b Fitzuese.] In name, but not in nature. What do you here ? And are they, then, your friends — Those men with scowling brows, and lips which woo The smiles they may not wear ? for Nature Never wiU be so belied, as paiut Upon the foul heart's face those charms the virtuous only wear ! But speak ; what would you ? I fear, no good. FITZURSE, kneeling. Earth's best gift, your love ? LUCILLE. , Arise, Sir ! leave me ! lest my frown shall strike / Upon thy steeled bosom, with such fanged darts, Thy soul shall flee their power, and it shall fall But on a lifeless corse. HTZUESE Lucille ! SCENE IV.J THOMAS a'bBCKET. 101 LUCILLE. That tone ! The ■wind thus sweetly whispers, that doth bear The gale. Ah, me ! Ah, me ! PITZTTESE. One word, and I'll no more : Tour love or uncle's life ! LUCILLE. ViUain! Help! ho! Enter A'Becket, Salisbuet, Blois, and others. a'beckbt. What means this, Sir ? How came you here ? Salisbury, guard thou Lucille. EITZUESE. Recall thy word — ^her hand I a'bbcket. Never 1 How dare you this ? EITZUESE. This ! ay, more ! a'beckbt. Presmnptuous man ! You know the past ! How dare you threaten ? EITZUESE lays his hand on his sword. Threaten ! beware, Sir ! Lest I more than threaten ! a'beckbt. Audacious youth I The wrath of Heaven be on you ! Begone, Sir ! Leave me ! my hour has not yet come ! EITZUESE aside. But win ere night — at vespers. They are too strong for me. [Exit. 102 THOMAS a'bECKET. [ACT V. BLOIS. ^ ViUain! I'U after him! a'bbcket. Nay, nay, my son ! There is no fear for us. The Church's shield -will ward AH earthly blows ; and when Heaven's falls. It will, whate'er our heed. Let's on to vespers. My daughters, come with me ; there's something Sacred in a virgin's charms, since the first birth Of time. So sacred, he whose warrior I am enrolled, called one Sis mother, [Exeunt. SCENE FIFTH. Vespers — The Chapel. Miter A'Becket, Saxisbttet, Blois, Mattlde, LucrLLE, and attendants. BLOIS. Close ye the portals ! spare nor bolt nor bar I a'beoket. Nay, nay, my son ! BLOIS. Oh, Father ! be advised this once I YiUany lurks around ! ~So shrine so sacred But it will poUute with its foul breath. MATILDE. " Oh, Father ! hear my prayer ! LUCILLE. And mine ! Upon my knees. Dear Father,, grant me but this ? Oh, be advised ! SCENE V.J THOMAS a'bECKET. 103 a'becket. Fear not, my children ! To your love I would yield, " But 'tis not meet that we should fortify God's temple, like a castle." We need no gates, !N"o bulwarks, and no arms ! If He wills we shall live, We will not die — ^if die, 'tis but for once I And who would live, when by his Father caUed Unto that home, so rich in every joy ? Hark to the vesper hymn ! How like A voice from Heaven it comes ! My blessiags be with you ! Low 'musicr--tliey kneel.J Me ascends the steps of the High Altar. Enter the five conspirators and twelve companions. DB BBOC. Where is the traitor, Thomas A'Becket ? No answer.] Where is the Archbishop ? a'bbckbt, turning round. " Here am I, no traitor, but a priest. Ready to suffer in the name of Him Who redeemed me." But what do ye here in arms ? DB BEOC. Take off the censures from the Prelates, Or instant death ! • a'bbckbt. Never! .so help me Heaven! Put up your swords ! Who dares insult his God? Fitzurse, stand back ! I have done you many a kindness ;/ Touch me not ! by Heaven's arm alone I'U fall, Never by thine ! Think ye that I fear you ? 104 THOMAS a'bECKET. [AOT V. Kneel at this altar, -whicli ye have so foul'd, Lest that your souls alone may cleanse these stains, And make atonement for this sacrilege. HTZUESB. Fly then! oh, fly! My oath! my oath! a'becket. No, never! I am prepared to die. DE BEOC, striking at Mm. Fly! or you are dead ! Or else be borne, a prisoner, to the King ! FrrzuESB strikes him. LUCILLE. Hold ! what, thou, Fitzurse 1 PITZtTESB. There — die ! Tlie blow glances from A'Becket on Lfoille, who has rushed to shield him, as she exckmns — Fitzurse ! FITZHESB. What have I done ? A'Becket supports her as she falls, saying: Stand off! What hast thou done ? My child ! my child! earth was not dear to thee. Thus wiU we unto Heaven. {Still supporting her. Unto the attendants.^ My children, sheathe your swords, Fitzurse, sheathe thine, and let these do the deed ! Thy mother drank my heart's life in our tender youth ; There is none left for thee. Fair Rosamond Had been my bride ; an honored, virgin bride, SCENE V.J THOMAS a'bECEET. 105 Had not thy father, -Henry, our King, won her From her truth, and' steeped her in dishonor. PITZUESB. Fair Kosamond my mother ! [Looking at his sword. a'bbckbt. Alas! it is too true. FiTztTESE, to Ms sword. Come ! do thy work ! Thou wert his gift who gave me life ; that gone With her fair fame — ^my unknown mother's. Whom I have worshipped as a saiat in heaven, I sheathe thee in my heart ! Her life's blood on thy blade ; With thee I wed, Lucille ! Stabs himself and falls at LtrciLLE's/eei.] Now are we one ! [Dies. a'becket. Oh! that my loved Liege, Henry, should have known This hour ! How do youth's sins track man unto the grave ! Turning to Conspirators.^ He'U curse ye. Sirs, who have done this foul deed ; And cast ye to dishonor ! while, with repentant ashes On his head — ^bare-footed, scourges on his back — He'll walk, and prostrate lie before the shrine Of him who now doth fall but to be canonized ; And when his hour shall come ; (but this, I charge you. Under pain of Saint A'Becket's ire, Ne'er to disclose till then !) His queen, vile Eleanor, Inciting foes ! for she wiU ne'er forgive his frailties ! His realm disjoined ! Sons disobedient ! In rebellion, all ; with none but hired menials Near his infected couch, this mighty monarch 106 THOMAS a'bEOKET. [aOT V. In vile rags shall die ! No regal state, no honor, and no love ! — Not e'en the love of one poor heart, for him Whose every love was lust, and love of self! — Tet, had I lived, I would have saved him From this last dishonor. Come, murder, have thy way ! My life fast ebbs. To God, St. Mary, and the Saints who are The patrons of the Church, and to St. Denis, I do commend myself and the Church's cause. You've done your worst ! Ye Norman Lords, here dies the Anglo-Saxons' hope ; ) To rise hereafter ia a far Western land, / Whence like the sun, with Freedom's glorious rays, , It shall illume the Wide, Wide World ! They kneel around.^ \JIe dies. TTuns. -=H* ~:^ ^ ^ 7T=