Scene 1. The council chamber in the Tower of London. Barons and prelates assembled. Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. Princess Adelais present, attended by several French nobles and her women. She advances before the archbishop.
Ade. Ye peers of England, and ye men of God, Humbly I make my suit. Not as a princess With vassal pomp and power to awe the eye And judgment take fore-captive, though a score Of buried kings have dowered me with veins Of high regality; nor sue I with The holy potency of Heaven's pontiff, Though his own mouth would speak if I were silent, As speak the skies when tempests chasten earth. But here, my lords, a lonely woman kneels; A weary mother weeping her lost son. You know how all my better years were spent In that dark wild where wander minds dethroned. When the dear world came back to me, my cry Was for my babe—no more a babe, but up To manhood shot as in a single hour. And as the hunger takes some starving wretch, Desire upon me seized to know his love, And on his breast to die. My lords, mayhap I am as old as is the oldest here, But O, so poor in time. I've but that youth, Brief youth that held its morning roses up And fled, and this bare, aged now that drops But aching moments till I've found my son. Cant. Rise, royal Adelais! Believe that we Have hearts of men, and know the love of mothers. But to give back your son belongs to Him Whose voice doth open graves and call the dead. Ade. My heart cries that he lives! O, he was here Five years ago—five little years. Why, 'twas But yesterday! This letter tells you, sirs. "Brave and right royal. Great Henry's worthy son." This letter from the man who guarded him, Geoffrey de Burgh, an honest, good old man, And faithful to his king. He could not have A son so cruel as to kill my son, Or rob the world of what did so adorn it And yet none know. Cant. In grief I say 'tis so; And England lies in shame that her chief lord, Raised to administer her vaunted justice, Should prove so base, so foul, that—— Ade. O, my lord, He must be nobler than you think, else would your king Lift him so high?—make him his friend, And with an earldom top his risen fortune? May be he overcapped too many whom His guilt would please more than his innocence. Cant. We've given him fair and open trial. Urged him In name of God and England to declare His knowledge of the precious living charge His father left to him. But he is brazen In flat denial. Ade. O, your eminence, May I not see him? Let me plead for truth With a poor mother's tears. Cant. You will but hear The unblushing lie which we have sought to spare you. Ade. O, let me see him! Cant. Kent, step forth and tell This suffering princess what you will. Kent. [Coming out from guards] Dear madam, Your tears are suitors to my pity—— Ade. Henry! Kent. Each drop a supplicant that I would ease Were such sweet power mine. But, by my soul, And by the mother's love I never knew Though dreamed on, I am innocent of blood, Nor did I ever see or know your son. Ade. Ah, I have found him, lords! O, you old men, If any here be old, do you not hear The mighty Henry speak in this young voice? My grandsire, Louis, bends that brow on me, That eye has flashed such light from 'neath a crown. [To Kent] Be not amazed; thou art my only born. Thy mother's heart could not so falsely beat As to deny thee! England, be glad with me! Count de Rouillet. O, pity, Heaven! She is mad again. Win. Take her away. Ade. Away? When I have found him? By those blest stars that drew my feet to his, I'll not go hence till he may go with me! Kent. Dear lady, go. I'll come to thee in time. Ade. I am thy mother. Wilt not call me so? I've cleared my vision with a sea of tears And can not be deceived. Cant. Wouldst call a villain son? A man condemned? Whose headsman waits even now? Ade. What has he done? God does not lie, and 'twas his hand that writ This countenance to mark a noble mind, And not to be a villain's fair decoy. Ah, murder him, but the same axe will strike My life away, for never shall he go From out my arms! One of her women. Come, dearest lady. Win. Ay, She must depart. [To Rouillet] Pray, lead her off, my lord. She interrupts the court. Ade. You'd force me, sir? Ah, true, I am in England. O, my lords, I beg you let me stay! I'll not disturb you, But sit as quiet as the stone I am. [Takes a seat. Her women attend her] You see, my lords, I'm calm. I have no son. Win. [To Canterbury] This time is poorly spared. Pray you, proceed. Cant. Hear then your sentence, Hubert, earl of Kent, And Margaret, his wife, stand forth with him. Unto the block you both shall go forthwith—— A guard at door. The king! Win. The king? The doors are closed to all! Hen. [Entering] All but the king, lord bishop. Margaret, I bring a gift—your freedom. Ah, you sinned When you confessed your guilt, but not before. Our dearest Glaia died not by your hand, Nor yet by Kent's. First, lords, know you The maiden was the daughter of my father— Ay, ay, there's proof. She was the child of John And a fair lady of his court and ours, Who, dying, made confession to her priest—— Win. A priest? We know, my lord and king, that priests Oft sell reports unto the devil's purse. Hen. That from a churchman? Win. Would an honest priest Betray confession? Hen. This was given, sir, For open use in Kent's defence. In short, I was that priest, my lord, and played the monk To better purpose than I've played the king. Cant. Your majesty—— Hen. Is pleased to speak, your grace This then, my lords, proves Kent had holy reason For thwarting my vain love. Alb. Could this be true And Kent not speak when a bare word had saved him? Hen. Have you been home to-day, my lord? Alb. My liege, Since morn I've ridden hard, and was much pushed To arrive in season for the trial. Hen. What news From north? Alb. 'Twas south I rode, your majesty, About my shore estates. Pem. Sire, I informed you—— Hen. Ay, so. Alb. What should I do at home, my liege? Hen. Comfort your lady, who fast droops to death. Alb. My wife? But she was well when I set forth. Hen. You'll find her changed! But we must speak of Kent. My lords, he was close pledged not to betray The maiden's parentage for this good reason. Her mother was his sister, living in dread Of her harsh present lord, and she besought, Past power to resist, his oath to die Ere he should make it known. I know not who Of you would prove so true to oaths if death Lay in the keeping, or what hearts are here Would drain themselves to guard a sister's life. Cant. Who is this sister, sire? Alb. This shows that kings May even be duped like poorer men. All know That Kent's sole sister is my countess. Hen. Sir, We've no mind to deny you. It is she We mean,—the lady Albemarle. [Albemarle staggers] Pem. My lord—— Alb. Air! Stand from me! Give way! I must be gone! Hen. We must command you stay. Alb. This air is poison! Hen. Stay, sir! Alb. I say not to the king 'tis false, But to each British lord who hears I swear 'Tis a foul lie! Hen. My ears, sir, registered Her last confession, that 'twas her hand struck Her daughter's heart, her child and John's. Alb. Let go! It was her malady that spoke. I'll to her And rival death in tortures! God, I will—— Hen. Death has outstripped you, sir. Her breath is gone. Alb. Then I'll inflict her body till her ghost Comes back to shriek in it! Hen. You're yet too late. We've given orders for her due interment As mother of our sister. Alb. Ha! My servants! You guard my house? Hen. We do, my lord. Win. [Aside to Canterbury] Haste, sir, Or Kent will yet escape. Cant. Your majesty, The lady Margaret, thanks to Heaven and you, Is now at liberty, but the life of Kent Is forfeited. He must at once to doom. Hen. Already sentenced, sir? You're hasty reaching Your black conclusion. Stay a little—— Cant. Sire, We moved with deference, respecting him Who for a time had lived within your bosom. To longer stay his death would tempt the skies To draw their mercy from us, seeing it were So basely used. Guards here for Kent! Hen. O, stay One moment, please your eminence. My lord Of Winchester, I'd see again the papers First gave excuse to put this guilt on Kent. Win. And here they are, my liege. [Gives him papers] There you will read Of the great trust consigned by Henry Second To Geoffrey de Burgh, and by him to his son, As Adelais brings proof. [Enter Wynne, carrying a small box] Wynne. Your majesty—— Hen. [Reading] Your patience! Presently we'll hear you. Pem. What! The lord of Wynne returned? Alb. Returned! I doubt If he has seen salt water. Pem. But I hope He has not bent a wizard's eye upon Our secrets. Hen. Hear, my lords, this paper given By dying Pembroke to our Winchester, Signed, ay, and written, by our grandsire king. [Reads] "And for we know that envious ills assail The nobly born when not by wedlock blest——" Win. Nay—'tis not that! My lord, I beg—it is The other paper! Hen. [Reading] "Till he be a man And cast a weighty spear, let him be called De Burgh, and known as Geoffrey's son——" Win. Hear me—— Hen. Peter des Roches, here's matter for your death, Which at your humble suit we'll moderate To banishment. Win. O, blasted be this hand—— Wynne. Curse not the unlucky hand that bared thy sin, For we have other proof of Kent's high birth. Within this box where lady Albemarle Treasured the tokens from her kingly love, I found a paper of another tenor,— A letter from her father, old De Burgh, To be delivered at his death to one Called Hubert, his supposed son, wherein He tells him of his birth and bids him claim Name and estate as his great father willed. You know the words, my fallen Winchester,— "Rockingham, Harle, Beham and Fotheringay, With strongest Bedford as his ducal seat." This letter, as we know, was kept from Kent, And where 'twas found best tells the why thereof. Ade. [Rising] Who will deny me now? Must I keep still, Ye lords of England? Have I yet your leave T' embrace my son? Kent. [Crossing to her] We'll ask no leave, my mother. Do dreams take flesh, and prayers become alive? For I have dreamed and prayed to see your face, Though but in vision, thinking you in Heaven; And all my life your voice like far off singing Has followed me. Sometimes it seemed 'twould near If I might wait in silence, wooing it, But life that waits no longing pushed me on With the old loss new in my heart. Ade. My son! My only son! O, twice thou'rt born to me! Kent. And I must double yet thy joy, for see Thy daughter too. [Presents Margaret] Mar. [To Adelais] If thou wilt call me so. [Adelais embraces Margaret] Hen. Those castles, Albemarle, which were your boast, Must now revert to their right lordly owner, The earl of Kent. Alb. Take them, my liege, take all, But leave me this good sword which I would wear As your most loyal subject. Hen. Nay, my lord, Your service past but illy recommends you. You are our prisoner. Guards for Albemarle! Alb. What does this mean? You cast your crown by this! Hen. It means, proud man, you are a traitor proved. You galloped hard last night, and 'twas to death. Those troops you called on pretence to avenge The death of Kent will be by Kent commanded. Alb. [To Wynne] 'Tis you who've brought this hell upon me, villain! Hen. By your good patience, he is not a villain! I know not all his merit, but enough To make him my chief general; asking first His guard against this plotting Poitevin— This unfrocked bishop—should he e'er attempt To make new friends and land upon our shores. Wynne. Sire, in my arms he'll find a barrier High as the devil sealed to enter Heaven. Alb. [To Pembroke] Be lightning in my cause, if you would save me! Pem. I go at once to raise what power I can. Hen. Out, guards, with Albemarle, and keep him close Till he go forth to death. [Exit Albemarle under guard. Pembroke is hurrying out] Stay, Pembroke. You Have been too close his brother. 'Tis a pity To sever you in death, but for the sake Of your great father dead we're lenient And banish you the kingdom. Pem. Sire, I go. [Exit] Hen. [To officer] Follow him, sir, and see him straightway shipped. [Exit officer] Now Kent may ask and have. What gift shall speak My great affection? What thy dearest wish? Kent. Let him not ask for more, who has the love Of Margaret, his mother, and his king. [Curtain] |