Becket And Other Plays Part 7

ROSAMUND.

Poor bird of pa.s.sage! so I was; but, father, They say that you are wise in winged things, And know the ways of Nature. Bar the bird From following the fled summer--a c.h.i.n.k--he's out, Gone! And there stole into the city a breath Full of the meadows, and it minded me Of the sweet woods of Clifford, and the walks Where I could move at pleasure, and I thought Lo! I must out or die.

BECKET.

Or out _and_ die.

And what hast thou to do with this Fitzurse?

ROSAMUND.

Nothing. He sued my hand. I shook at him.

He found me once alone. Nay--nay--I cannot Tell you: my father drove him and his friends, De Tracy and De Brito, from our castle.

I was but fourteen and an April then.

I heard him swear revenge.

BECKET.

Why will you court it By self-exposure? flutter out at night?

Make it so hard to save a moth from the fire?

ROSAMUND.

I have saved many of 'em. You catch 'em, so, Softly, and fling them out to the free air.

They burn themselves _within_-door.

BECKET.

Our good John Must speed you to your bower at once. The child Is there already.

ROSAMUND.

Yes--the child--the child-- O rare, a whole long day of open field.

BECKET.

Ay, but you go disguised.

ROSAMUND.

O rare again!

We'll baffle them, I warrant. What shall it be?

I'll go as a nun.

BECKET.

No.

ROSAMUND.

What, not good enough Even to play at nun?

BECKET.

Dan John with a nun, That Map, and these new railers at the Church May plaister his clean name with scurrilous rhymes!

No!

Go like a monk, cowling and clouding up That fatal star, thy Beauty, from the squint Of l.u.s.t and glare of malice. Good night! good night!

ROSAMUND.

Father, I am so tender to all hardness!

Nay, father, first thy blessing.

BECKET.

Wedded?

ROSAMUND.

Father!

BECKET.

Well, well! I ask no more. Heaven bless thee! hence!

ROSAMUND.

O, holy father, when thou seest him next, Commend me to thy friend.

BECKET.

What friend?

ROSAMUND.

The King.

BECKET.

Herbert, take out a score of armed men To guard this bird of pa.s.sage to her cage; And watch Fitzurse, and if he follow thee, Make him thy prisoner. I am Chancellor yet.

[_Exeunt_ HERBERT _and_ ROSAMUND.

Poor soul! poor soul!

My friend, the King!... O thou Great Seal of England, Given me by my dear friend the King of England-- We long have wrought together, thou and I-- Now must I send thee as a common friend To tell the King, my friend, I am against him.

We are friends no more: he will say that, not I.

The worldly bond between us is dissolved, Not yet the love: can I be under him As Chancellor? as Archbishop over him?

Go therefore like a friend slighted by one That hath climb'd up to n.o.bler company.

Not slighted--all but moan'd for: thou must go.

I have not dishonour'd thee--I trust I have not; Not mangled justice. May the hand that next Inherits thee be but as true to thee As mine hath been! O, my dear friend, the King!

O brother!--I may come to martyrdom.

I am martyr in myself already.--Herbert!

HERBERT (_re-entering_).

My lord, the town is quiet, and the moon Divides the whole long street with light and shade.

No footfall--no Fitzurse. We have seen her home.

BECKET.

The hog hath tumbled himself into some corner, Some ditch, to snore away his drunkenness Into the sober headache,--Nature's moral Against excess. Let the Great Seal be sent Back to the King to-morrow.

HERBERT.

Must that be?

The King may rend the bearer limb from limb Think on it again.

BECKET.

Against the moral excess No physical ache, but failure it may be Of all we aim'd at. John of Salisbury Hath often laid a cold hand on my heats, And Herbert hath rebuked me even now.

I will be wise and wary, not the soldier As Foliot swears it.--John, and out of breath!

_Enter_ JOHN OF SALISBURY.

JOHN OF SALISBURY.

Thomas, thou wast not happy taking charge Of this wild Rosamund to please the King, Nor am I happy having charge of her-- The included Danae has escaped again Her tower, and her Acrisius--where to seek?