Classic Poem

SCENE VII. — A Court at Dunley Tower .

M ICHAEL Zebra .

Z EB . Now then, we're ready for this hasty coming
Of Richard and his train. But here's my Lord.
What bent on next? He was restrained, they say,
Austerely when a boy. I've known such cases,
Where, the curb suddenly withdrawn, the youth,
Defrauded hitherto of due delights,
And losing self-respect from daring once
To taste some lighter joy, unwisely classed,
In teaching him, with things forbidden justly,
And knowing no gradations, has at once,
With a ferocity of liquorish relish,
Unknown to those of looser bringing-up,
Plunged into pleasure.

Enter L ORD D UNLEY .

D UN . The game's up: She's Wold's;
Wooed, won, and all but wed — all in a thunder-clap.
Z EB . What means my Lord?
D UN . Simply, that he of Wold
Home going fell, hurt by the lightning stroke,
At Mervyn gate. The Lady had him in:
She won his heart, he hers: they are betrothed.
Z EB . A jest! Who said so?
D UN . Only she herself,
And frankly too. Hither to-night I pressed her
To meet the King, and grace our feast, my suit
Urging the while; when, with a serious sweetness,
She said she owed it to herself and me
To tell me at once she was the Lord Wold's bride.
Z EB . The end o' the world's upon us! I've just seen
That springald Chayr: What think you, good my Lord?
He's in the metamorphoses! Last moon —
A peck o' wild oats; to-day — unbonnet you
To The Whole Duty of Man! So changed is he.
Love for our Mervyn has transformed him thus.
And here's my Silent Lord: O rare for Silence!
If not just one o' your mere sheer war-clubs knotted
And rude strength-gnarled, on whose outstanding knobs
Pity might hang herself in her own garters;
Yet who dreamt he could love! when lo! he melts,
Woos, wins, all in a flash, as if said flash
Had more than supplied our dull suitor's tongue,
Wildering the maid's brain, too
D UN . Sooth be the saying!
Thunder bodes ill to Wold.
Z EB . Ourselves will do
The thunder that we need. Now then for Wold: —
We'll end this love of his, so end his line:
For like your grave, deep, quiet men, he loves
Once and no more. The lady — mark, my Lord —
Is his betrothed; but she's not yet his wife,
No, nor shall ever be.
D UN . Fix me but that!
Z EB . Thomas of Wold charged you with Gloster's murder
In presence of his captains, and compelled you
To leave the army?
D UN . 'S blood! why do you name it?
You had better tell me too, with twitting tongue,
(And look for thanks) he — Wold — the man I hate,
Has robbed me of my love!
Z EB . My Lord, that charge
Against you, was a charge against the King,
A foul, disloyal charge. He called it murder;
The King's a murderer then, for 'twas his will
And work you did, as any faithful subject
Was bound to do. Mark now: our Sovereign Sire
Comes here to-night. You know, my Lord, his wrath
At hearing Gloster named?
D UN . Well?
Z EB . Hereford
Is looking homeward from his banishment,
An angry man. Him the King fears. Sworn friend
To Wold is he. Richard is jealous too
Of Wold's great service, and can never wish him,
Quartering with Mervyn, to have more power still.
My Lord of Dunley is his man for that.
Let's draw all these converging points together,
And knit them thus to our purpose: — When the King
Is flushed with wine to-night, make bold, my Lord,
Doing your duty as a right leal servant,
To impeach Lord Wold with that disloyalty
I'll bear your Lordship out in't: I was present,
And know it all — and more.
D UN . ( pacing the court ) Could this be done!
Z EB . It can be — must be — shall be. Nay, this farther: —
You're bound, my Lord, as Mervyn's last male head,
Not to allow that wedding — not to allow
Your orphan cousin, an unshielded girl,
Unpractised, trusting all, to wed a traitor
By Nature's laws you are her guardian friend,
Befriend her then.
D UN . I'll do it. To-night, you said?
Z EB . This very night: all at one heat. Our Liege,
Wroth about Gloster, and made prompt, by hints,
To awe proud Hereford, by keeping down
And humbling Wold, will straightway summon him
Into the presence: All this very night.
We'll have another thunder-clap.
D UN . What then?
What will Wold say or do?
Z EB . Down with his gage,
Daring Lord Dunley. 'Twill but aggravate
The King's displeasure: He hates gauntlets now.
It but remains to name Wold's punishment.
D UN . What should it be?
Z EB . Not one jot more than serves
Our purpose fully. But the King himself
Must seem to dictate, while we gently bend him
To what we wish. Say that Wold be confined
Within the limit of his own domain,
On pain of death to pass't. Doomed traitor he,
The King's command will give you yet your wife,
And Dunley shall be Mervyn. Thomas of Wold,
Struck thus, shall pine out of your way; and then,
Wold's large domain, mark me, her lodes of ore,
Quarries of slate, forests, and fishy rivers,
Her hills of sheep, green plains, and fruitful fens,
Far and wide, shall be yours.
Hark!
D UN . 'Tis the King.
Keep near me.