No More Learning

SECOND PILGRIM The music of the birds
Drops deadened from a roof so thick with leaves.


OLD PILGRIM This news! It made my heart leap up with joy.


IDONEA I scarcely can believe it.


OLD PILGRIM Myself, I heard
The Sheriff read, in open Court, a letter
Which purported it was the royal pleasure
The Baron Herbert, who, as was supposed,
Had taken refuge in this neighbourhood,
Should be forthwith restored. The hearing, Lady,
Filled my dim eyes with tears. --When I returned
From Palestine, and brought with me a heart,
Though rich in heavenly, poor in earthly, comfort,
I met your Father, then a wandering Outcast:
He had a Guide, a Shepherd's boy; but grieved
He was that One so young should pass his youth
In such sad service; and he parted with him.
We joined our tales of wretchedness together,
And begged our daily bread from door to door.
I talk familiarly to you, sweet Lady!
For once you loved me.


IDONEA You shall back with me
And see your Friend again. The good old Man
Will be rejoiced to greet you.


OLD PILGRIM It seems but yesterday
That a fierce storm o'ertook us, worn with travel,
In a deep wood remote from any town.
A cave that opened to the road presented
A friendly shelter, and we entered in.


IDONEA And I was with you?


OLD PILGRIM If indeed 'twas you--
But you were then a tottering Little-one--
We sate us down. The sky grew dark and darker:
I struck my flint, and built up a small fire
With rotten boughs and leaves, such as the winds
Of many autumns in the cave had piled.
Meanwhile the storm fell heavy on the woods;
Our little fire sent forth a cheering warmth
And we were comforted, and talked of comfort;
But 'twas an angry night, and o'er our heads
The thunder rolled in peals that would have made
A sleeping man uneasy in his bed.
O Lady, you have need to love your Father.
His voice--methinks I hear it now, his voice
When, after a broad flash that filled the cave,
He said to me, that he had seen his Child,
A face (no cherub's face more beautiful)
Revealed by lustre brought with it from heaven;
And it was you, dear Lady!


IDONEA God be praised,
That I have been his comforter till now!
And will be so through every change of fortune
And every sacrifice his peace requires. --
Let us be gone with speed, that he may hear
These joyful tidings from no lips but mine.


[Exeunt IDONEA and Pilgrims. ]




SCENE--The Area of a half-ruined Castle--on one side the entrance to a
dungeon--OSWALD and MARMADUKE pacing backwards and forwards.



MARMADUKE 'Tis a wild night.


OSWALD I'd give my cloak and bonnet
For sight of a warm fire.


MARMADUKE The wind blows keen;
My hands are numb.


OSWALD Ha! ha! 'tis nipping cold.
[Blowing his fingers. ]
I long for news of our brave Comrades; Lacy
Would drive those Scottish Rovers to their dens
If once they blew a horn this side the Tweed.


MARMADUKE I think I see a second range of Towers;
This castle has another Area--come,
Let us examine it.


OSWALD 'Tis a bitter night;
I hope Idonea is well housed. That horseman,
Who at full speed swept by us where the wood
Roared in the tempest, was within an ace
Of sending to his grave our precious Charge:
That would have been a vile mischance.


MARMADUKE It would.


OSWALD Justice had been most cruelly defrauded.


MARMADUKE Most cruelly.


OSWALD As up the steep we clomb,
I saw a distant fire in the north-east;
I took it for the blaze of Cheviot Beacon:
With proper speed our quarters may be gained
To-morrow evening.

[He looks restlessly towards the mouth of the dungeon. ]


MARMADUKE When, upon the plank,
I had led him 'cross [4] the torrent, his voice blessed me:
You could not hear, for the foam beat the rocks
With deafening noise,--the benediction fell
Back on himself; but changed into a curse.


OSWALD As well indeed it might.


MARMADUKE And this you deem
The fittest place?


OSWALD (aside)
He is growing pitiful.


MARMADUKE (listening)
What an odd moaning that is! --

OSWALD. Mighty odd
The wind should pipe a little, while we stand
Cooling our heels in this way! --I'll begin
And count the stars.


MARMADUKE (still listening)
That dog of his, you are sure,
Could not come after us--he _must_ have perished;
The torrent would have dashed an oak to splinters.
You said you did not like his looks--that he
Would trouble us; if he were here again,
I swear the sight of him would quail me more
Than twenty armies.


OSWALD How?


MARMADUKE The old blind Man,
When you had told him the mischance, was troubled
Even to the shedding of some natural tears
Into the torrent over which he hung,
Listening in vain.


OSWALD He has a tender heart!


[OSWALD offers to go down into the dungeon. ]


MARMADUKE How now, what mean you?


OSWALD Truly, I was going
To waken our stray Baron. Were there not
A farm or dwelling-house within five leagues,
We should deserve to wear a cap and bells,
Three good round years, for playing the fool here
In such a night as this.


MARMADUKE Stop, stop.


OSWALD Perhaps,
You'd better like we should descend together,
And lie down by his side--what say you to it?
Three of us--we should keep each other warm:
I'll answer for it that our four-legged friend
Shall not disturb us; further I'll not engage;
Come, come, for manhood's sake!


MARMADUKE These drowsy shiverings,
This mortal stupor which is creeping over me,
What do they mean? were this my single body
Opposed to armies, not a nerve would tremble:
Why do I tremble now? --Is not the depth
Of this Man's crimes beyond the reach of thought?
And yet, in plumbing the abyss for judgment,
Something I strike upon which turns my mind
Back on herself, I think, again--my breast
Concentres all the terrors of the Universe:
I look at him and tremble like a child.


OSWALD Is it possible?


MARMADUKE One thing you noticed not:
Just as we left the glen a clap of thunder
Burst on the mountains with hell-rousing force.
This is a time, said he, when guilt may shudder;
But there's a Providence for them who walk
In helplessness, when innocence is with them.
At this audacious blasphemy, I thought
The spirit of vengeance seemed to ride the air.


OSWALD Why are you not the man you were that moment?


[He draws MARMADUKE to the dungeon. ]


MARMADUKE You say he was asleep,--look at this arm,
And tell me if 'tis fit for such a work.
Oswald, Oswald!
[Leans upon OSWALD. ]


OSWALD This is some sudden seizure!


MARMADUKE A most strange faintness,--will you hunt me out
A draught of water?


OSWALD Nay, to see you thus
Moves me beyond my bearing. --I will try
To gain the torrent's brink.


[Exit OSWALD. ]


MARMADUKE (after a pause)
It seems an age
Since that Man left me. --No, I am not lost.


HERBERT (at the mouth of the dungeon)
Give me your hand; where are you, Friends? and tell me
How goes the night.


MARMADUKE 'Tis hard to measure time,
In such a weary night, and such a place.


HERBERT I do not hear the voice of my friend Oswald.

MARMADUKE A minute past, he went to fetch a draught
Of water from the torrent. 'Tis, you'll say,
A cheerless beverage.


HERBERT How good it was in you
To stay behind! --Hearing at first no answer,
I was alarmed.


MARMADUKE No wonder; this is a place
That well may put some fears into _your_ heart.


HERBERT Why so? a roofless rock had been a comfort,
Storm-beaten and bewildered as we were;
And in a night like this, to lend your cloaks
To make a bed for me! --My Girl will weep
When she is told of it.

MARMADUKE This Daughter of yours
Is very dear to you.


HERBERT Oh! but you are young;
Over your head twice twenty years must roll,
With all their natural weight of sorrow and pain,
Ere can be known to you how much a Father
May love his Child.

MARMADUKE
Thank you, old Man, for this! [Aside. ]


HERBERT Fallen am I, and worn out, a useless Man;
Kindly have you protected me to-night,
And no return have I to make but prayers;
May you in age be blest with such a daughter! --
When from the Holy Land I had returned
Sightless, and from my heritage was driven,
A wretched Outcast--but this strain of thought
Would lead me to talk fondly.


MARMADUKE Do not fear;
Your words are precious to my ears; go on.


HERBERT You will forgive me, but my heart runs over.
When my old Leader slipped into the flood
And perished, what a piercing outcry you
Sent after him. I have loved you ever since.
You start--where are we?


MARMADUKE Oh, there is no danger;
The cold blast struck me.


HERBERT
'Twas a foolish question.


MARMADUKE But when you were an Outcast? --Heaven is just;
Your piety would not miss its due reward;
The little Orphan then would be your succour,
And do good service, though she knew it not.


HERBERT I turned me from the dwellings of my Fathers,
Where none but those who trampled on my rights
Seemed to remember me. To the wide world
I bore her, in my arms; her looks won pity;
She was my Raven in the wilderness,
And brought me food. Have I not cause to love her?

MARMADUKE Yes.


HERBERT More than ever Parent loved a Child?


MARMADUKE Yes, yes.


HERBERT I will not murmur, merciful God!
I will not murmur; blasted as I have been,
Thou hast left me ears to hear my Daughter's voice,
And arms to fold her to my heart. Submissively
Thee I adore, and find my rest in faith.


[Enter OSWALD. ]


OSWALD Herbert! --confusion! (aside).
Here it is, my Friend,
[Presents the Horn. ]
A charming beverage for you to carouse,
This bitter night.


HERBERT Ha! Oswald! ten bright crosses
I would have given, not many minutes gone,
To have heard your voice.


OSWALD Your couch, I fear, good Baron,
Has been but comfortless; and yet that place,
When the tempestuous wind first drove us hither,
Felt warm as a wren's nest. You'd better turn
And under covert rest till break of day,
Or till the storm abate.
(To MARMADUKE aside. ) He has restored you.
No doubt you have been nobly entertained?
But soft! --how came he forth? The Night-mare Conscience
Has driven him out of harbour?


MARMADUKE I believe
You have guessed right.


HERBERT The trees renew their murmur:
Come, let us house together.


[OSWALD conducts him to the dungeon. ]


OSWALD (returns)
Had I not
Esteemed you worthy to conduct the affair
To its most fit conclusion, do you think
I would so long have struggled with my Nature,
And smothered all that's man in me? --away! --
[Looking towards the dungeon. ]
This man's the property of him who best
Can feel his crimes. I have resigned a privilege;
It now becomes my duty to resume it.


MARMADUKE Touch not a finger--


OSWALD What then must be done?


MARMADUKE Which way soe'er I turn, I am perplexed.


OSWALD Now, on my life, I grieve for you. The misery
Of doubt is insupportable. Pity, the facts
Did not admit of stronger evidence;
Twelve honest men, plain men, would set us right;
Their verdict would abolish these weak scruples.


MARMADUKE Weak! I am weak--there does my torment lie,
Feeding itself.


OSWALD Verily, when he said
How his old heart would leap to hear her steps,
You thought his voice the echo of Idonea's.


MARMADUKE And never heard a sound so terrible.


OSWALD Perchance you think so now?


MARMADUKE I cannot do it:
Twice did I spring to grasp his withered throat,
When such a sudden weakness fell upon me,
I could have dropped asleep upon his breast.


OSWALD Justice--is there not thunder in the word?
Shall it be law to stab the petty robber
Who aims but at our purse; and shall this Parricide--
Worse is he far, far worse (if foul dishonour
Be worse than death) to that confiding Creature
Whom he to more than filial love and duty
Hath falsely trained--shall he fulfil his purpose?
But you are fallen.


MARMADUKE Fallen should I be indeed--
Murder--perhaps asleep, blind, old, alone,
Betrayed, in darkness! Here to strike the blow--
Away! away! --

[Flings away his sword. ]


OSWALD Nay, I have done with you:
We'll lead him to the Convent. He shall live,
And she shall love him. With unquestioned title
He shall be seated in his Barony,
And we too chant the praise of his good deeds.
I now perceive we do mistake our masters,
And most despise the men who best can teach us:
Henceforth it shall be said that bad men only
Are brave: Clifford is brave; and that old Man
Is brave.
[Taking MARMADUKE'S sword and giving it to him. ]
To Clifford's arms he would have led
His Victim--haply to this desolate house.


MARMADUKE (advancing to the dungeon)
It must be ended! --


OSWALD Softly; do not rouse him;
He will deny it to the last. He lies
Within the Vault, a spear's length to the left.
[MARMADUKE descends to the dungeon. ]
(Alone. ) The Villains rose in mutiny to destroy me;
I could have quelled the Cowards, but this Stripling
Must needs step in, and save my life. The look
With which he gave the boon--I see it now!
The same that tempted me to loathe the gift. --
For this old venerable Grey-beard--faith
'Tis his own fault if he hath got a face
Which doth play tricks with them that look on it:
'Twas this that put it in my thoughts--that countenance--
His staff--his figure--Murder! --what, of whom?
We kill a worn-out horse, and who but women
Sigh at the deed? Hew down a withered tree,
And none look grave but dotards. He may live
To thank me for this service. Rainbow arches,
Highways of dreaming passion, have too long,
Young as he is, diverted wish and hope
From the unpretending ground we mortals tread;--
Then shatter the delusion, break it up
And set him free. What follows? I have learned
That things will work to ends the slaves o' the world
Do never dream of. I _have_ been what he--
This Boy--when he comes forth with bloody hands--
Might envy, and am now,--but he shall know
What I am now--
[Goes and listens at the dungeon. ]
Praying or parleying? --tut!
Is he not eyeless? He has been half-dead
These fifteen years--

[Enter female Beggar with two or three of her Companions. ]

(Turning abruptly. ) Ha! speak--what Thing art thou?
(Recognises her. ) Heavens! my good friend! [To her. ]


BEGGAR Forgive me, gracious Sir! --


OSWALD (to her companions)
Begone, ye Slaves, or I will raise a whirlwind
And send ye dancing to the clouds, like leaves.
[They retire affrighted. ]


BEGGAR Indeed we meant no harm; we lodge sometimes
In this deserted Castle--_I repent me. _


[OSWALD goes to the dungeon--listens--returns to the Beggar.
]


OSWALD Woman, thou hast a helpless Infant--keep
Thy secret for its sake, or verily
That wretched life of thine shall be the forfeit.


BEGGAR I _do_ repent me, Sir; I fear the curse
Of that blind Man. 'Twas not your money, Sir,--


OSWALD Begone!


BEGGAR (going)
There is some wicked deed in hand:
[Aside. ]
Would I could find the old Man and his Daughter.


[Exit Beggar. ]


[MARMADUKE re-enters from the dungeon]


OSWALD It is all over then;--your foolish fears
Are hushed to sleep, by your own act and deed,
Made quiet as he is.


MARMADUKE Why came you down?
And when I felt your hand upon my arm
And spake to you, why did you give no answer?
Feared you to waken him? he must have been
In a deep sleep. I whispered to him thrice.
There are the strangest echoes in that place!


OSWALD Tut! let them gabble till the day of doom.


MARMADUKE Scarcely, by groping, had I reached the Spot,
When round my wrist I felt a cord drawn tight,
As if the blind Man's dog were pulling at it.


OSWALD But after that?


MARMADUKE The features of Idonea
Lurked in his face--

OSWALD Psha! Never to these eyes
Will retribution show itself again
With aspect so inviting. Why forbid me
To share your triumph?


MARMADUKE Yes, her very look,
Smiling in sleep--


OSWALD A pretty feat of Fancy!


MARMADUKE Though but a glimpse, it sent me to my prayers.


OSWALD Is he alive?


MARMADUKE What mean you? who alive?


OSWALD Herbert! since you will have it, Baron Herbert;
He who will gain his Seignory when Idonea
Hath become Clifford's harlot--is _he_ living?


MARMADUKE The old Man in that dungeon _is_ alive.


OSWALD Henceforth, then, will I never in camp or field
Obey you more. Your weakness, to the Band,
Shall be proclaimed: brave Men, they all shall hear it.
You a protector of humanity!
Avenger you of outraged innocence!


MARMADUKE 'Twas dark--dark as the grave; yet did I see,
Saw him--his face turned toward me; and I tell thee
Idonea's filial countenance was there
To baffle me--it put me to my prayers.
Upwards I cast my eyes, and, through a crevice,
Beheld a star twinkling above my head,
And, by the living God, I could not do it.
[Sinks exhausted. ]


OSWALD (to himself)
Now may I perish if this turn do more
Than make me change my course.
(To MARMADUKE. ) Dear Marmaduke,
My words were rashly spoken; I recal them:
I feel my error; shedding human blood
Is a most serious thing.


MARMADUKE Not I alone,
Thou too art deep in guilt.


OSWALD We have indeed
Been most presumptuous. There _is_ guilt in this,
Else could so strong a mind have ever known
These trepidations? Plain it is that Heaven
Has marked out this foul Wretch as one whose crimes
Must never come before a mortal judgment-seat,
Or be chastised by mortal instruments.


MARMADUKE
A thought that's worth a thousand worlds!

[Goes towards the dungeon. ]


OSWALD I grieve
That, in my zeal, I have caused you so much pain.


MARMADUKE Think not of that! 'tis over--we are safe.


OSWALD (as if to himself, yet speaking aloud)
The truth is hideous, but how stifle it?
[Turning to MARMADUKE. ]
Give me your sword--nay, here are stones and fragments,
The least of which would beat out a man's brains;
Or you might drive your head against that wall.
No! this is not the place to hear the tale:
It should be told you pinioned in your bed,
Or on some vast and solitary plain
Blown to you from a trumpet.


MARMADUKE Why talk thus?
Whate'er the monster brooding in your breast
I care not: fear I have none, and cannot fear--
[The sound of a horn is heard. ]
That horn again--'Tis some one of our Troop;
What do they here? Listen!


OSWALD What! dogged like thieves!


[Enter WALLACE and LACY, etc. ]


LACY You are found at last, thanks to the vagrant Troop
For not misleading us.


OSWALD (looking at WALLACE)
That subtle Greybeard--
I'd rather see my father's ghost.


LACY (to MARMADUKE)
My Captain,
We come by order of the Band. Belike
You have not heard that Henry has at last
Dissolved the Barons' League, and sent abroad
His Sheriffs with fit force to reinstate
The genuine owners of such Lands and Baronies
As, in these long commotions, have been seized.
His Power is this way tending. It befits us
To stand upon our guard, and with our swords
Defend the innocent.


MARMADUKE Lacy! we look
But at the surfaces of things; we hear
Of towns in flames, fields ravaged, young and old
Driven out in troops to want and nakedness;
Then grasp our swords and rush upon a cure
That flatters us, because it asks not thought:
The deeper malady is better hid;
The world is poisoned at the heart.


LACY What mean you?


WALLACE (whose eye has been fixed suspiciously upon OSWALD)
Ay, what is it you mean?


MARMADUKE Hark'ee, my Friends;--
[Appearing gay. ]
Were there a Man who, being weak and helpless
And most forlorn, should bribe a Mother, pressed
By penury, to yield him up her Daughter,
A little Infant, and instruct the Babe,
Prattling upon his knee, to call him Father--


LACY Why, if his heart be tender, that offence
I could forgive him.


MARMADUKE (going on)
And should he make the Child
An instrument of falsehood, should he teach her
To stretch her arms, and dim the gladsome light
Of infant playfulness with piteous looks
Of misery that was not--

LACY
Troth, 'tis hard--
But in a world like ours--


MARMADUKE (changing his tone)
This self-same Man--
Even while he printed kisses on the cheek
Of this poor Babe, and taught its innocent tongue
To lisp the name of Father--could he look
To the unnatural harvest of that time
When he should give her up, a Woman grown,
To him who bid the highest in the market
Of foul pollution--


LACY The whole visible world
Contains not such a Monster!


MARMADUKE For this purpose
Should he resolve to taint her Soul by means
Which bathe the limbs in sweat to think of them;
Should he, by tales which would draw tears from iron,
Work on her nature, and so turn compassion
And gratitude to ministers of vice,
And make the spotless spirit of filial love
Prime mover in a plot to damn his Victim
Both soul and body--


WALLACE 'Tis too horrible;
Oswald, what say you to it?


LACY Hew him down,
And fling him to the ravens.


MARMADUKE But his aspect
It is so meek, his countenance so venerable.


WALLACE (with an appearance of mistrust)
But how, what say you, Oswald?


LACY (at the same moment)
Stab him, were it
Before the Altar.


MARMADUKE What, if he were sick,
Tottering upon the very verge of life,
And old, and blind--


LACY Blind, say you?


OSWALD (coming forward)
Are we Men,
Or own we baby Spirits? Genuine courage
Is not an accidental quality,
A thing dependent for its casual birth
On opposition and impediment.
Wisdom, if Justice speak the word, beats down
The giant's strength; and, at the voice of Justice,
Spares not the worm. The giant and the worm--
She weighs them in one scale. The wiles of woman,
And craft of age, seducing reason, first
Made weakness a protection, and obscured
The moral shapes of things. His tender cries
And helpless innocence--do they protect
The infant lamb? and shall the infirmities,
Which have enabled this enormous Culprit
To perpetrate his crimes, serve as a Sanctuary
To cover him from punishment? Shame! --Justice,
Admitting no resistance, bends alike
The feeble and the strong. She needs not here
Her bonds and chains, which make the mighty feeble.
--We recognise in this old Man a victim
Prepared already for the sacrifice.


LACY By heaven, his words are reason!


OSWALD Yes, my Friends,
His countenance is meek and venerable;
And, by the Mass, to see him at his prayers! --
I am of flesh and blood, and may I perish
When my heart does not ache to think of it! --
Poor Victim! not a virtue under heaven
But what was made an engine to ensnare thee;
But yet I trust, Idonea, thou art safe.


LACY Idonea!


WALLACE How! What? your Idonea?
[To MARMADUKE. ]


MARMADUKE _Mine;_
But now no longer mine. You know Lord Clifford;
He is the Man to whom the Maiden--pure
As beautiful, and gentle and benign,
And in her ample heart loving even me--
Was to be yielded up.


LACY Now, by the head
Of my own child, this Man must die; my hand,
A worthier wanting, shall itself entwine
In his grey hairs! --


MARMADUKE (to LACY)
I love the Father in thee.
You know me, Friends; I have a heart to feel,
And I have felt, more than perhaps becomes me
Or duty sanctions.


LACY We will have ample justice.
Who are we, Friends? Do we not live on ground
Where Souls are self-defended, free to grow
Like mountain oaks rocked by the stormy wind?
Mark the Almighty Wisdom, which decreed
This monstrous crime to be laid open--_here,_
Where Reason has an eye that she can use,
And Men alone are Umpires. To the Camp
He shall be led, and there, the Country round
All gathered to the spot, in open day
Shall Nature be avenged.


OSWALD 'Tis nobly thought;
His death will be a monument for ages.


MARMADUKE (to LACY)
I thank you for that hint. He shall be brought
Before the Camp, and would that best and wisest
Of every country might be present. There,
His crime shall be proclaimed; and for the rest
It shall be done as Wisdom shall decide:
Meanwhile, do you two hasten back and see
That all is well prepared.


WALLACE We will obey you.
(Aside. ) But softly! we must look a little nearer.


MARMADUKE Tell where you found us. At some future time
I will explain the cause.


[Exeunt. ]




ACT III


SCENE--The door of the Hostel, a group of Pilgrims as before; IDONEA and
the Host among them


HOST Lady, you'll find your Father at the Convent
As I have told you: He left us yesterday
With two Companions; one of them, as seemed,
His most familiar Friend.
(Going. ) There was a letter
Of which I heard them speak, but that I fancy
Has been forgotten.


IDONEA (to Host)
Farewell!


HOST
Gentle pilgrims,
St. Cuthbert speed you on your holy errand.


[Exeunt IDONEA and Pilgrims. ]


[SCENE--A desolate Moor]


[OSWALD (alone)]


OSWALD Carry him to the Camp! Yes, to the Camp.
Oh, Wisdom! a most wise resolve! and then,
That half a word should blow it to the winds!
This last device must end my work. --Methinks
It were a pleasant pastime to construct
A scale and table of belief--as thus--
Two columns, one for passion, one for proof;
Each rises as the other falls: and first,
Passion a unit and _against_ us--proof--
Nay, we must travel in another path,
Or we're stuck fast for ever;--passion, then,
Shall be a unit _for_ us; proof--no, passion!
We'll not insult thy majesty by time,
Person, and place--the where, the when, the how,
And all particulars that dull brains require
To constitute the spiritless shape of Fact,
They bow to, calling the idol, Demonstration.
A whipping to the Moralists who preach
That misery is a sacred thing: for me,
I know no cheaper engine to degrade a man,
Nor any half so sure. This Stripling's mind
Is shaken till the dregs float on the surface;
And, in the storm and anguish of the heart,
He talks of a transition in his Soul,
And dreams that he is happy. We dissect
The senseless body, and why not the mind? --
These are strange sights--the mind of man, upturned,
Is in all natures a strange spectacle;
In some a hideous one--hem! shall I stop?
No. --Thoughts and feelings will sink deep, but then
They have no substance. Pass but a few minutes,
And something shall be done which Memory
May touch, whene'er her Vassals are at work.


[Enter MARMADUKE, from behind]


OSWALD (turning to meet him)
But listen, for my peace--


MARMADUKE
Why, I _believe_ you.


OSWALD But hear the proofs--


MARMADUKE Ay, prove that when two peas
Lie snugly in a pod, the pod must then
Be larger than the peas--prove this--'twere matter
Worthy the hearing. Fool was I to dream
It ever could be otherwise!


OSWALD Last night
When I returned with water from the brook,
I overheard the Villains--every word
Like red-hot iron burnt into my heart.
Said one, "It is agreed on. The blind Man
Shall feign a sudden illness, and the Girl,
Who on her journey must proceed alone,
Under pretence of violence, be seized.
She is," continued the detested Slave,
"She is right willing--strange if she were not! --
They say, Lord Clifford is a savage man;
But, faith, to see him in his silken tunic,
Fitting his low voice to the minstrel's harp,
There's witchery in't. I never knew a maid
That could withstand it. True," continued he,
"When we arranged the affair, she wept a little
(Not the less welcome to my Lord for that)
And said, 'My Father he will have it so. '"


MARMADUKE I am your hearer.

OSWALD This I caught, and more
That may not be retold to any ear.
The obstinate bolt of a small iron door
Detained them near the gateway of the Castle.
By a dim lantern's light I saw that wreaths
Of flowers were in their hands, as if designed
For festive decoration; and they said,
With brutal laughter and most foul allusion,
That they should share the banquet with their Lord
And his new Favorite.


MARMADUKE
Misery! --

OSWALD I knew
How you would be disturbed by this dire news,
And therefore chose this solitary Moor,
Here to impart the tale, of which, last night,
I strove to ease my mind, when our two Comrades,
Commissioned by the Band, burst in upon us.


MARMADUKE Last night, when moved to lift the avenging steel,
I did believe all things were shadows--yea,
Living or dead all things were bodiless,
Or but the mutual mockeries of body,
Till that same star summoned me back again.
Now I could laugh till my ribs ached. Fool!
To let a creed, built in the heart of things,
Dissolve before a twinkling atom! --Oswald,
I could fetch lessons out of wiser schools
Than you have entered, were it worth the pains.
Young as I am, I might go forth a teacher,
And you should see how deeply I could reason
Of love in all its shapes, beginnings, ends;
Of moral qualities in their diverse aspects;
Of actions, and their laws and tendencies.


OSWALD You take it as it merits--


MARMADUKE One a King,
General or Cham, Sultan or Emperor,
Strews twenty acres of good meadow-ground
With carcases, in lineament and shape
And substance, nothing differing from his own,
But that they cannot stand up of themselves;
Another sits i' th' sun, and by the hour
Floats kingcups in the brook--a Hero one
We call, and scorn the other as Time's spendthrift;
But have they not a world of common ground
To occupy--both fools, or wise alike,
Each in his way?


OSWALD Troth, I begin to think so.


MARMADUKE Now for the corner-stone of my philosophy:
I would not give a denier for the man
Who, on such provocation as this earth
Yields, could not chuck his babe beneath the chin,
And send it with a fillip to its grave.


OSWALD Nay, you leave me behind.


MARMADUKE That such a One,
So pious in demeanour! in his look
So saintly and so pure! --Hark'ee, my Friend,
I'll plant myself before Lord Clifford's Castle,
A surly mastiff kennels at the gate,
And he shall howl and I will laugh, a medley
Most tunable.

OSWALD In faith, a pleasant scheme;
But take your sword along with you, for that
Might in such neighbourhood find seemly use. --
But first, how wash our hands of this old Man?


MARMADUKE Oh yes, that mole, that viper in the path;
Plague on my memory, him I had forgotten.


OSWALD You know we left him sitting--see him yonder.


MARMADUKE Ha! ha! --


OSWALD As 'twill be but a moment's work,
I will stroll on; you follow when 'tis done.


[Exeunt. ]


SCENE changes to another part of the Moor at a short distance--HERBERT
is discovered seated on a stone


HERBERT A sound of laughter, too! --'tis well--I feared,
The Stranger had some pitiable sorrow
Pressing upon his solitary heart.
Hush! --'tis the feeble and earth-loving wind
That creeps along the bells of the crisp heather.
Alas! 'tis cold--I shiver in the sunshine--
What can this mean? There is a psalm that speaks
Of God's parental mercies--with Idonea
I used to sing it. --Listen! --what foot is there?


[Enter MARMADUKE]


MARMADUKE (aside--looking at HERBERT)
And I have loved this Man! and _she_ hath loved him!
And I loved her, and she loves the Lord Clifford!
And there it ends;--if this be not enough
To make mankind merry for evermore,
Then plain it is as day, that eyes were made
For a wise purpose--verily to weep with!
[Looking round. ]
A pretty prospect this, a masterpiece
Of Nature, finished with most curious skill!
(To HERBERT. ) Good Baron, have you ever practised tillage?
Pray tell me what this land is worth by the acre?


HERBERT How glad I am to hear your voice! I know not
Wherein I have offended you;--last night
I found in you the kindest of Protectors;
This morning, when I spoke of weariness,
You from my shoulder took my scrip and threw it
About your own; but for these two hours past
Once only have you spoken, when the lark
Whirred from among the fern beneath our feet,
And I, no coward in my better days,
Was almost terrified.


MARMADUKE That's excellent!