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SELF'S THE MAN
A TRAGI-COMEDY
BY
JOHN DAVIDSON
" Admirably adapted for the stage." — Glasgow Herald.
"The best of reading."— Mr. A. B. Walkley in The Morning
Leader.
"The central figure, the elected King of Lombardy, is a solid piece
of character drawing." — Literature.
"The heroine, Osmunda, is one of those true and noble women
whom Mr. Davidson has the gift of creating." — Daily Chronicle.
"Taking it as a whole it deserves to be described in most emphatic
terms as a success, for it is comely in shape, full of fire and heart, a
monument to Mr. Davidson's intellectuality, and as fresh as sunrise." —
Literary World.
The scene of "Self's the Man" is Lombardy, and the time may be
referred to the eighth century a.d. ; but it is a modern drama — a not
altogether unsuitable sub-title might be " New Wine in an Old Bottle,"
for some part of the comedy is a fermenting anachronism which bursts
the wine-skin. Counterparts of Urban, the protagonist, may be found
in Napoleon III., Dom Pedro, Amadeus of Spain, Alexander of Bul-
garia, Milan of Servia, poets, students, or pleasure-seekers attempting
or half-attempting to act, and to be masters of men. Urban embodies
the prevailing mood of the nineteenth century, which was, like most
centuries, an age of dreamers and unrealized ideals ; and he represents
also the net result of the intellectual effort of the nineteenth century,
viz., the conscious egoism which inevitably exalts the mind above the
soul and the senses, and destroys the natural harmony of man. Lucian,
Urban's rival, is the same modern type in a lower key — the viola to
Urban's violin. Bismarck, Stambuloff, may be considered the antitypes
of Hildebrand, the true contrast to Urban — agents who proceed in-
stinctively, knowing nothing of themselves, and who can overcome
everything except assassination or a youthful emperor. Thrasimund,
the pantaloon of the piece, is typical of the confused ambition and
frantic luxury of our time. The two heroines, one willingly submissive
to the yoke of slavery, the other to the yoke of convention, bear a
relation to each other like that of Urban and Lucian — Osmunda alto to
Saturnia's soprano. Fate, such as may be found within the covers of
books, will not be detected anywhere in this play ; only character, and
the want of it, and the use or abuse the individual makes of the chances
that occur.
MR. JOHN DAVIDSON'S POETRY.
" Till now English speech has uttered no such burning truth . . . It is all far more
than worth reading ; it, perhaps, more than any other new poetry, embodies the
universal human spirit. ... It would be a wrong that I should deeply regret, if I
gave an impression of something hortatory, something less than artistic in work so
splendid."— Mr. W. D. Howells in The North American Review.
Price Sixpence net.
TESTAMENTS
By JOHN DAVIDSON
No. I.
THE TESTAMENT OF A VIVISECTOR
" The question is simply, has Mr. Davidson written a strong poem ?
The answer is, yes. . . . The ' Vivisector ' ... in essentials is a
figure so majestic that in the words of Poe,
' Hell rising from a thousand thrones,
(Should) do (him) reverence.' "
— Academy.
" Here you have Mr. Davidson at his best, strong, unforced, and
himself, reaching distinguished utterance through sheer authenticity
of emotion and imaginative realization. He sees, he feels what he sees,
and vents it with trained faculty of speech : the result impresses by its
vital adequacy." — Daily Chronicle.
No. II.
THE TESTAMENT OF A MAN FORBID
" Poetry anyhow ; words that spring together with cohesion, alive
and instinct with beauty. . . . The poem is in our judgment the best
thing he has done." — Pilot.
" The second of Mr. John Davidson's essays in a very unconventional
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surface — to break with a tradition that is no more than a vast mass of
parasitic growth about the essential spirit." — Manchester Guardian.
" Magnificent blank verse, strong, rhythmical and imaginative. . . .
The poem has all Mr. Davidson's sinew and undeniable poetic in-
dividuality. The close is on a note of sheer beauty. " — Academy and
Literature.
" The second of Mr. Davidson's projected series of ' Testaments' is
vastly better than its predecessor, . . . and it contains towards the
end a magnificent passage full of rapturous delight in natural beauty."
— Athenaum.
" It must be conceded that Mr. John Davidson is able with tre-
mendous force to deliver himself of what he wishes to say, and that this
ability is on the increase." — Literary World.
No. III.
Price One Shilling net.
THE
TESTAMENT OF AN EMPIRE-BUILDER
" Passage on passage of sustained power, passion, or beauty. ... A
masterful poem." — Academy and Literature.
"Nervously written, and contains passages of great beauty ... of
the force and grim sincerity of the utterance there can be no doubt." —
Athenceum.
"A magnificent piece of imaginative writing." — Mr. William
Archer in The Morning Leader.
" He states fact in terms of poetry, and the statement sears one's
consciousness. He is the first poet to digest the new wonders of science
which have subtly changed the old cosmogony, and made the very
foundations of existence crumble away . . . the poem teems with
prodigal beauty of phrase and image."— Mr. James Douglas in The
Star.
"Certainly he puts the case in a manner to scare the polite Im-
perialist. This Empire-Builder cannot agree that evolution has entered
on a mild stage of benevolence, and this rejection of comfortable
euphemisms is serious and arresting. . . . It is impossible to refuse
admiration for work of such beauty and distinction." — Manchester
Guardian.
"'All these I saw at home in Heaven.' Where, then, was Hell?
The dreamer at last discovered it, and a more terrible conception never
entered even the tragic brain of Dante." — Glasgow Herald.
" The third of a series of powerful poems in blank verse from the
pen of Mr. John Davidson, and it yields to none of them in freshness
and vigour of imagination, or in the strength and flowing colour of its
imagery. " — Scotsman.
" Impressed we are, as everybody is bound to be. Mr. Davidson does
write poetry. His thoughts flash like lightning ; his heated emotions
melt strange and familiar words into cohesion . . . instinct with
beauty, alive, full of imagination and originality." — Birmingham
Post.
Ready shortly.
No. IV.
THE TESTAMENT OF A PRIME-MINISTER
With this number the format will be changed. The series
■will be continued in octavo volumes.
THE KNIGHT OF THE MAYPOLE
THE KNIGHT OF THE
MAYPOLE
A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS
BY
JOHN DAVIDSON
"Lord of May, and Lord of May again."
An Unhhtorical Pastoral. — 1877
LONDON
GRANT RICHARDS
48, LEICESTER SQUARE
1903
"When your heart is heavy you should think of something
wholly delightful ; of the Nebular Hypothesis, for example,
or of a Maypole." — Tobellet's Opinions.
" Let the May-queen reign."
Fleet Street Eclogues.
This play was written in 1900, and after various adventures
is now published, twenty-five years having come and gone
since, in "An Unhistorical Pastoral," I first wrote of the
Maypole.
J. D.
All rights, including ailing rights, reserved.
PR
PERSONS
Charles II
Sir Henry Beaumont .
Sir Charles Aldred .
Sir Gilbert Hamilton
Anthony Ashe, of Sutton
Highcroft . .
Gabriel Ashe
EuSEBY TRENCHARD
Clement Dormer
Isaiah Myrtle .
Jeremy Strutt .
Humphrey
Messent .
Mowlem .
Agnes Grey
Mistress Dormer
Judith Rumbold
Grace Myrtle .
Jane Gosling
King of England.
> Courtiers.
(justice of the Peace.
Anthony's cousin.
Anthony's man.
Mistress Dormer's son.
A Roundhead.
Mistress Dormer's cousin.
A ploughboy.
Country Constables.
ighter of the last Keeper of
ichmond Court Palace.
A wealthy widow of Richmond.
Mistress Dormer's niece.
Isaiah's daughter.
A milkmaid.
( Daiig
I Ric
Courtiers, Mayers, Morris-dancers, Roundheads, Two Pipers,
a Horn-player, and a Taborer.
GOG?''
Scene. — Aft I. The Hall of a Manor-house, near Richmond.
Afts II and III. Richmond Green.
Aft IV. The King's Apartments, Richmond Court
Palace.
Time. — 1661. The First Aft takes place on the 30th of April ;
the remainder on the 1st of May.
THE KNIGHT OF THE MAYPOLE
ACT I
Scene. — The Hall of the Manor-house of Sutton- High croft,
Richmond^ lofty and spacious. Tudor and early Stuart
portraits, arms and trophies of the chase on the walls.
In the centre a long table of carved oak, upon which are
law-books, papers, silver standish and quills. At the
head of the table a high-backed, oaken chair. Other
chairs placed conveniently.
A deep bay-window of stained glass opens upon a
lawn at the back.
On the right is a high, carved mantelpiece : fire-
dogs in the chimney. On the left a carved doorway cor-
responding with the mantelpiece. A small door on the
right below the fireplace.
When the curtain rises Anthony Ashe is dis-
covered reading the Intelligencer in his chair at the
top of the table, and Euseby Trenchard near the
foot of the table cutting a quill.
Anthony.
NO news, Euseby ? You have marked nothing.
Euseby. There is nothing deserving your wor-
ship's regard.
B
2 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Anthony. What private or parish matters bore us this
morning ?
Euseby. Mistress Agnes Grey despatched an express
from Richmond Court to notify your worship that she
will visit you this forenoon concerning the King's Maying.
Anthony. Ah ! So the King comes a-Maying to Rich-
mond ?
Euseby. To-morrow, your worship.
Anthony. To-morrow, Euseby. Not yesterday ; nor
to-day ; nor the day after to-morrow ; but to-morrow.
May-day, like every other day in the calendar, is only an
annual occurrence.
Euseby. [To himself.'] Except the twenty-ninth of Feb-
ruary. I had him there !
Anthony. What else, Euseby ?
Euseby. Worshipful sir, widow
Anthony. A widow ! Not a word. Bring her in.
Once is enough to hear a widow's complaint. [Glances
over the Intelligencer.] Euseby! Did you examine the
shipping news ?
Euseby. Most carefully, your worship.
Anthony. Come here ! Read !
[Takes Euseby by the ear.
Euseby. [Reading.'] "On April the 26th, the bark
Mary Ann, of Rye, homeward bound from the Bar-
badoes, ran upon the Brill Rocks, and went to pieces.
It is feared all hands are lost." Oh, sir ! Most
worshipful sir ! What is this Mary Ann to us ?
act I.] The Knight of the Maypole 3
Anthony. [Releasing Euseby.] A suit of mourning,
Euseby.
Euseby. Ah ! Where was my undutiful memory ?
Yet the word Mary Ann seemed familiar — to beg as
it were like a poor relation for a glance of recog-
nition. But then I never even saw your worship's
cousin.
Anthony. Gabriel ! Umph ! And I have not seen him
since Worcester.
Euseby. That 's ten years ago !
Anthony. The chivalrous Gabriel ! He was in every
royalist plot till his affairs grew desperate. Then he
shipped before the mast — which was fortunate, as he
would infallibly have brought me into trouble. He was
one of your " no compromise " men, and could never
adapt himself to the times.
Euseby. Unfortunate Master Gabriel ! Drowned on
the doorstep, so to speak, sir. Your worship has no
consanguinity remaining, lineal, collateral, or sinister.
My most humble, heartfelt condolence. This loss must
mean
Anthony. The sure possession of Sutton-Highcroft, mine
by nine points of the law, but Gabriel's by testament ;
peace of mind besides, Master Euseby, now, henceforth
and for ever — if the news be true ; and that I shall know
presently. Bid Tom Patchin saddle Anchorite ; and in
the meantime admit the ranting widow.
Euseby. She is no ranting widow, sir.
4 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Anthony. Let her be whatever widow she likes, admit
her.
Euseby. She is not alone, sir. She brings
Anthony. Will you never learn that obedience, prompt
and silent, is the only propitiation of a patron !
[Euseby admits Mistress Dormer aWClement
by the door on the left. Mistress Dormer
is a widow of forty ; Clement, a youth of
seventeen.
Euseby. The widow Dormer and her son, Clement,
your worship.
Anthony. Mistress Dormer ! [To Euseby.] You im-
pudent knave ! How often have I told you to announce
my friends at once !
Euseby. [To himself] How often did I try to do so !
Touched him there.
Mistress Dor/ner. It is the justice I come to see, not
the friend. And cut I am to the heart that I must divide
the sheep from the goats — I may call the justice the^
goats, and the friend the sheep — for I had thought that
even in death they should not be divided, whatever might
happen afterwards. It is my boy, Clement, here, who is
breaking my heart — and some of the commandments. I
give him more money to spend than the housekeeping
comes to ; and he may marry his quatre-cousin, Judith
Rumbold
Clement. Cousin Judy !
Mistress Dormer. Ungrateful boy ! A lady, a hand-
act I.] The Knight of the Maypole 5
some lady ! Well set-up, with a wide knowledge of men
and things, and three hundred a year of her own in lands
and houses ; and not yet thirty
Clement. Now, mother
Mistress Dormer. Not yet thirty ! and I dare you to
contradict me, sir ! Twenty-five or so, come Michaelmas ;
and dotes on him. Will he look at her ? Not although
she wooed him on her bare knees ! But he filches ten
gold pieces, crown gold, that I kept in a pipkin for a
purpose ; and he buys of Master Ellwand, the haber-
dasher, eight yards of turquoise silk, and has the same
made up to measure by Farwig, the woman's tailor of
Mercer's Row. To whose measure, sir ? And who took
the measure ? And who has the skirt and hood ? Naughty
boy!
Anthony. Come, Master Clement, I wager it was for
your cousin Judith. Eh ?
Mistress Dormer. No, indeed ! Here is the note which
I had from Master Farwig, and the girth is eighteen
inches. Thank heaven, Judith Rumbold's bodice holds
half as much womanhood again ! [Beats Clement.]
Make him speak, your worship !
Anthony. Do you know that you are a common thief,
sir ? Answer me.
Clement. Yes.
Anthony. And that for less than this men are hanged
every day ?
Clement. Yes.
6 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Anthony. Confess the whole matter, then, and be for-
given.
Clement. The whole matter, sir ?
Anthony. What light o' love wears the turquoise blue,
Clement ?
Clement. No light o' love, by heaven !
Anthony. Her name, then ?
Clement. No, sir !
Anthony. There is nothing gallant in this obstinacy.
To be a martyr is to be an eternal fool. Save your skin,
Clement. — Mistress Dormer, I leave him in your hands.
Make no attempt to soften him : in youth a contrite
heart is mere hypocrisy ; but attrition, as our casuists
call it, is possible at any age — videlicet, Mistress Dormer,
professed repentance under terror of pains and penalties. —
The elasticity of the law, and the admirable irresponsibility
of its administrators — all thanks to our restored and tolerant
monarch ! — empower us to flay you with whips, to brand
you in the palm, to give you a sultry holiday in the
stocks, or a cap and hempen collar and an hour's game
of blindman's buff in the air, Master Clement ; or each
and all of these for a graver warning to the fire-new licence
of our too loyal youth. — Bring his condition home to him,
Mistress Dormer.
Mistress Dormer. I shall bring it home to him, I warrant
you.
Anthony. Consider it, master. A whole skin may
be irksome in one's teens : in any case it will mend
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole J
again ; but with a broken reputation one is lamed for
life.
Mistress Dormer. Oh, that I should live to see this
day ! But he shall confess though he were less guilty
than he is.
[At a nod from Anthony, Euseby, who has
been making notes at the table, rises and
accompanies Clement out.
Anthony. Well, Mistress Dormer, in what else can I
serve you ?
Mistress Dormer. But you would only frighten him,
sir ? The law cannot touch him ?
Anthony. By your leave, Mistress, the law can ; and I
am not sure that it stands with my honour to pardon
him, even if he confess contritely.
Mistress Dormer. But all that I have is his : he cannot
steal from me. Sir, I dare you to do it ! I shall fill the
pipkin with rose-royals, angels and double crowns, and
bring it into court and unsay every word I have said ;
and as for Master Ellwand and Master Farwig — they
live by selling cloth and stitching gowns : I should like
to hear them swear the contrary of any honest lie I choose
to tell.
Anthony. Well, well ; we shall see. Get you his con-
fession.
Mistress Dormer. Ay, let us find out who the Jezebel
is that has led him astray ; then whip, hang, brand, burn
and broil.
8 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Anthony. She shall have justice, Mistress Dormer.
Mistress Dormer. And injustice, too, Master Ashe !
Anthony. We must obey the spirit of the law, Mistress
Dormer.
Mistress Dormer. Spirit and letter, Master Ashe ; spirit
and letter ! No injustice is too great for women that
purloin the sons of honest mothers !
Anthony. What ! would you turn marriage itself from
a sacrament to a sacrilege ?
Mistress Dormer. Sacrilege or sortilege, Master Ashe,
I would turn the world upside down to have the judging
of her ! [Goes out.
Anthony. One would think this buxom widow had teeth
and claws. I am the sworn foe of proverbs, but the old
Christian who said, " Beware of a bad woman and put no
trust in a good one," had not spent much of his time in a
hermitage.
Enter, from the /awn, Agnes Grey.
Good morning, Mistress Grey.
Agnes. You know the news ?
Anthony. The King will be your guest ?
Agnes. My guest indeed !
A shipwrecked mariner in a desert land
Could entertain more sumptuously. No plate,
No wine, no cook, no service ; half the palace
Unfurnished ; and the linen cupboard full —
act I.] The Knight of the Maypole 9
Of the scent of lavender ! But kings are mad :
No question but they're mad. Upon some pique
This Charles of ours dismantles Richmond Court —
And straight appoints a May-day festival
In dust-draped walls where empty echoes crowd.
I must have help ; and I have come to you.
Conceive my sad necessity.
Anthony. You stroke
The fur both ways !
Agnes. Help, for the old time's sake !
Anthony. Well, what d'ye lack ?
Agnes. Men mostly.
Anthony. You shall have
All my rascals.
Agnes. Then you will come yourself?
Anthony. Rascal in chief? — I see.
Agnes. Some homely face
To give me countenance.
Anthony. My homely face
Agnes. Homely is friendly. Send me linen, plate,
A cook, a butler, men and chambermaids ;
And come yourself for my encouragement.
Anthony. Your will is law. When does the King
arrive ?
Agnes. At noon, to-morrow.
Anthony. I shall be earlier, then.
Agnes. And for your people ?
Anthony. They shall be to-day.
io The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Euscby ! Euseby ! [Re-enter Euseby.] Has Tom Patchin
saddled Anchorite ?
Euseby. He is about it, your worship.
Anthony. Bid him stall the gelding again. I ride later.
Carts and wagons, Euseby : Dobbin and Boxer, Darling,
Prince, the lame piebald, and my whole household to
Richmond Court !
Euseby. Mercy on us, your worship ! Not before
dinner ?
Anthony. Eat by the way, you libel upon gluttony !
For yourself, though, I advise a fast. You devour more
food than two ostlers and a stable boy, and are leaner
than a plough-stilt. You are overwrought with meat and
drink. Give your organs a rest, and your bones may
pluck up courage to put on some flesh. — Mistress Grey,
will you come with me ? — And Euseby, let the wenches
have their best gowns, and the men their holiday suits.
[Goes out with Agnes.
Euseby. So the King has come in the cadger's way !
Enter Grace Myrtle, a girl.
Grace. Master Euseby !
Euseby. Now in the name of all the brethren, what is
this pigsny doing at Sutton-Highcroft ? If your godly
parent, Isaiah, could see his little pullet run open-eyed
into the fox's den, Mistress Grace, the lamentations of his
gossip, Jeremiah, would be but a mouthful of his outcry.
act I.] The Knight of the Maypole 1 1
Grace. Oh, Master Euseby, I have come in search of
good Mistress Dormer. She is mistaken in a thing about
a gown.
Euseby. [Referring to his notes.] Of turquoise silk, made
by Master Farvvig of Mercer's Row for Mistress Judith
Rumbold — twenty-eight inches waist measurement.
Grace. Not eighteen inches, sir !
Euseby. Pardon me, Mistress Grace. Judith Rumbold
is twenty-eight inches, there or thereabouts ; or there is
no judgement in tape-lines, or honesty in Mistress Dormer.
Grace. What has my skirt to do with Judith Rumbold ?
.... Oh ! Oh ! Master Euseby, you will not betray me ?
Euseby. Me betray you, child ! It would be more
pertinent to inquire if Master Clement has betrayed you.
Grace. More impertinent, you mean ! And, indeed,
you shall beg my pardon on your knees for thinking such
dishonesty. On the floor ! Now !
Euseby. [Kneeling.] It was a mere quibble. I had no
meaning, and I humbly beg pardon.
Grace. Remain as you are ; you shall answer my ques-
tions kneeling. What sentence did the squire pass on
Clement ?
Euseby. He sentenced him to go home with his mother.
Grace. A very shrewd sentence, too. But was that all ?
Euseby. Except a categorical threat.
Grace. Why, Clement is in no danger, then !
Euseby. Except the danger he was in before.
Grace. And what was that ?
12 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Euseby. You.
Grace. Booby ! And so I needn't have risked coming
here. I have been a heroine for nothing. But what did
Clement say ?
Euseby. Clement sometimes said "yes" and sometimes
" no," and for the most part held his tongue. Now, let
me put a question, Mistress Myrtle. What good is the
turquoise silk to you ? Your father would sooner see you
in your shroud.
Grace. That is my little affair. But did nobody hint
about me ?
Euseby. Nobody. My knees
Grace. Wait. I have another question somewhere.
Oh ! you talked of Judith Rumbold. What about her?
Euseby. Why, things were said about her.
Grace. Yes ?
Euseby. About her waist.
Grace. Yes ?
Euseby. And about her age.
Grace. Yes ?
Euseby. And her income.
Re-enter Agnes.
Agnes. What ? Master Trcnchard a lover ! I am
mightily disappointed, Master Trcnchard. This is not
at all in character ; from your birth you were ear-marked
for a sober bachelor.
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 13
Euseby, [Rises.] From the aching of my marrow-bones
I am knee-marked for life.
Agnes. What brings my little puritan to Sutton-High-
croft ?
Grace. I came to see you, Agnes. — Go to your master,
Euseby. I hear him calling you.
Agnes. He wants you in the yard, Master Trenchard.
His worship has some charge to give you, and I undertook
to send you to him. You are to be my guest at Rich-
mond, and help me to entertain the King.
Voices. Master Euseby ! Master Trenchard ! Euseby,
you villain !
Euseby. Coming, ladies ! Coming, gentlemen ! You
see how I am sought after. [Goes out.
Agnes. Can I help your business with the squire ?
Grace. I have no business with the squire. It is true
I came here in the greatest concern in the world, and
without the remotest idea of what I was going to do f but
now my mind is quite at ease.
Agnes. I am glad of that, puss. To be sure, you said
it was me you came to see.
Grace. Well, I saw your horse at the gate, Agnes.
Agnes. Yes; and you saw me just now when I came
in.
Grace. I cannot tell you — not yet. And I must be off.
My father is no further away than Shepherd's Bush, buy-
ing beasts ; and if he gets home before me ! — Oh, good-
bye ! — I can tell you one thing ; in spite of bolts and
14 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
snibs I am going a-Maying to-morrow. Yes ! In Rich-
mond Park.
Agnes. At dawn ?
Grace. At dawn.
Agnes. Be at the palace gate, and I shall go with you,
then.
Grace. Will you ?
Agnes. We shall scrub our faces in the dew together.
Grace. But then I should have to tell you — there is
some one coming.
Agnes. The squire, I think.
Grace. I don't mean just now. I mean — not to tell
you, yet. Good-bye ! I shall be to-morrow ! I shall be !
[Goes out.
Re-enter Anthony.
Anthony. All is in train ; my folk shall follow you.
Agnes. I thank you from my heart. But you yourself?
Anthony. I have business in the city, and shall pass
The night there.
Agnes. [Giving her hand.] Till to-morrow, best of
friends.
Anthony. The King should make you keeper of Rich-
mond Court.
Agnes. Indeed, I wish he would ! But nevermore
Will Richmond have a keeper. Dreadful folk
Begin to pull it down.
Anthony. I had not heard.
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 15
Agnes. Soon I shall have no home. Fathers must die
And leave their idle daughters portionless;
But to despoil old palaces that time
Would hallow and enrich with myriads
Of memories, with art of rival ages,
And beautifying hands of hours and years,
Seasons and centuries — that is my grief;
A foolish one, but intimately felt
Because I live in it.
Anthony. A twelvemonth — no ?
When did your father die ?
Agnes. The very week
We came to Richmond Court.
Anthony. And so it was.
Agnes. He hoped for twenty years of rest, and died
For lack of tribulation ; when the cares
That seemed to press to death were lifted up,
His ready spirit took too high a leap
And lost the way to earth.
Anthony. You ne'er till now
Have suffered me to share your grief.
Agnes. Till now
I never saw myself standing alone
Bewildered at the cross-roads in the dusk.
Anthony. Is there no fingerpost to tell the way ?
Agnes. Convincingly; but not the journey's end.
Anthony. No fingerpost can tell the journey's end.
But whither lead the roads ?
1 6 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Agnes. One leads to court.
Anthony. A dangerous road !
Agnes. So are all worldly ways.
Ladies no better born than I have been
In royal households.
Anthony. And the other path ?
Agnes. It has no fingerpost.
Anthony. How does it look ?
Agnes. A vagrant track that winds to no man's land.
Anthony. I am standing at the cross-roads by your side.
This vagrant path so desolate to you,
To me appears life's highway, and I see
X man and woman, wedded pilgrims, walk
In love and friendship to the tranquil end.
The woman
Agnes. Well, the woman ?
Anthony. Looks like you.
Agnes. The man — like you ? Ten years ago you
swore
Anthony. But then you loved my cousin, Gabriel.
Agnes. How can you tell that now I love him not?
Anthony. I cannot tell ; but there's a likelihood.
Agnes. Anthony Ashe, I must not take your help.
I thought you were my friend.
Anthony. To you all things —
Companion, lover, slave.
Agnes. Knowing your heart
I cannot have your help.
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 17
Anthony. By heaven, my heart,
In doubt of you, spoke out against my will !
You came to me with such a generous trust —
So beautiful, so gallant, so forlorn,
I had been a man of snow had not the prime
And perfect help that men bring women, marriage,
Leapt to my mind unbidden. Pardon me !
Ten years ago you answered me, it 's true ;
But — Gabriel is dead.
Agnes. How do you know ?
Anthony. [Showing the Intelligencer.] The ship is
foundered and the seamen drowned.
Agnes. [Reading the Intelligencer.] Not certainly ; the
loss is only feared.
Poor Gabriel ! I should not know him now.
I scarcely can remember how he looked.
I think he is not dead ?
Anthony. I'm sure he is.
Agnes. You wish him dead ?
Anthony. I do, because you loved him.
Agnes. Come not to-morrow ; send me no support ;
A wooer so relentless must enjoy
No vantage.
Anthony. But I mean to make you mine.
My people, as I said, shall follow you ;
And look for me to-morrow with the dawn.
Agnes. You will not so affront me, sir ! Beware
A woman's hate.
c
1 8 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Anthony. A childish menace, Agnes.
Agnes. Sir, I reject your help ; my gates are shut,
My heart is locked and barred to you and yours.
Anthony. But by this help I help myself; for Charles
Will recompense my service : kings, who leave
A loyal lifetime in the lurch, reward
The accidents that smooth their pleasure's path.
Account it not a service done to you.
Agnes. You will not score it in your wooing ?
Anthony. No !
I love you for yourself; so must you me.
Agnes. Never. I am alone then, quite alone :
No friend in the wide world ?
Anthony. Lover and friend.
Agnes. They say a lover who will not take " no"
Is to be feared more than a secret foe. [Goes out.
Anthony. The love that fears and yet will tempt the fire
Is the sweet sacrifice all men desire.
[A knocking is heard at the small door.
Come in ! [Enter Messent.] What is it, Messent?
Messent. We have taken a seafaring man in the acl,
your worship.
Anthony. In what acl ?
Messent. In the acl of entering your worship's park by
the old gate in Middle Lane.
Anthony. That is no felony.
Messent. It would be no felony in me, if I may be so
bold as to say so, or in any constable, cottager, old in-
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 19
habitant, or decent stranger ; but the man's clothes, your
worship, are very felonious.
Anthony. To the roundhouse, then. I have no time
to-day.
Messent. Yes, your worship. Besides his clothes, your
worship, the man is mad ; he says he is your worship's
cousin.
Anthony. What?
Messent. Your worship need have no fear. Although
the man is mad, yet it is a sweet-tempered madness, for
he laughed when we apprehended him. These lunatics,
your worship, are of various denominations ; they are not
all of a madness ; some, indeed, are not so mad as others.
Anthony. A seafaring man. Where is he ?
Messent. My neighbour, Mowlem, has him without.
Anthony. Bring him in.
[Messent goes out^ and returns immediately with
Mowlem and Gabriel. Anthony sits
at the head of the table.
Gabriel. Anthony !
Messent. Now, now !
Mowlem. Quietly, quietly.
Gabriel. I am faint with hunger, cousin, and travel-
worn,
Or I would knock these jolterheads together.
They take me for a wandering bedlamite ;
Convince them who I am.
Anthony. Yes, when I know.
20 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Who are you ?
Gabriel. Anthony ! There might be wrung,
Were I at ease, some meagre drops of mirth
From this uncivil error ; but you see
I am not for jesting with. Command your men
To let me be.
Anthony. That will I not. Your name ?
Gabriel. My name ? — my name ! Can I have changed
so much ?
Your voice, your face, your gesture — all are you,
Anthony Ashe, my cousin, as he was.
And I am Gabriel, and you know me.
Anthony. No ;
I never saw you in my life before.
Gabriel. Come close to me and look me in the eyes.
Anthony. This is a sturdy rogue, a dangerous man.
Give him a whipping — idle vagabond ! —
And lock him up : I'll write you his commitment.
For false impersonation and for fraud
Another judge will hang him in due course.
Gabriel. Anthony ! You mean this utter perfidy ?
You dare not bear it through ! Look back ten years :
Between our hearts affeclion had begot
A golden time, wherein a day that passed
Without our meeting was to both of us
Immemorable as a dreamless sleep.
No thought, no hope, no history appeared
Of value till the other shared it : all
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 21
The world, the pageant of the past, the deeds
Of heroes and heroic song, sun, moon
And stars were ours — ours jealously, the mere
Adornment of our friendship, unesteemed
Except as either felt his comrade's joy
In beauty and magnificence. Discourse
Of young intelligences rapt in wonder
At mutual revelation — the great news
That mind can fathom mind ! — did never rise
On loftier pinions or more deeply breathe
The inspiration of goodwill. Cousins ? — friends
And fellow-deities, so intimate
Our confidences made us with the soul
Of all supreme delight ! And when our hearts
Took fire with love of Agnes Grey, 'twas you,
Half boyish and half manly, and most divine,
Who built an altar in a wilderness,
Where under midnight clouds and moaning boughs
We lit a spectral flame, and swore an oath
That blanched our simple souls, to worship love,
Devotion, truth, and friendship, and abide
The choice our goddess made. To you I come,
Now that the King is home, and England free
Again for loyal hearts, to share with you,
As we agreed of old, my wealth and lands.
Here is my uncle's will ; by miracle
It saved me from the wreck when I saved it :
The crew were in the yawl ; their storm-stopped cries
22 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
Assailed the wildered master hanging still
Upon the maintop backstay, loath to leave,
When hotly I remembered what this meant
For you and me ; scrambled on deck and reached
My box ; rummaged the will out ; sought again
The starboard quarter — to behold the yawl
Whelmed in the sea's trough, and the unheard crew
Whipped up and swallowed by a loud-tongued wave.
At the same moment of the tempest's pride
The mainmast snapped, and in the rigging caught
As in a net, I staggered overboard.
A flood-tide and the heavy slogging waves
Bore me upon a spar half-dead to land,
Alone of all my mates saved from the deep.
Hither I begged my way, fearing to find
A stranger in our hall ... as I have found.
Anthony. Most circumstantial ! Can you be indeed my
old bosom-friend, my cousin Gabriel ? Let me see the
will. [Receives the will from Gabriel.] Without question,
this is my uncle's signature. But you ? No ; you are
like Gabriel, but you are not he. Seize him, and hold
him tightly. A very miserable creature, I perceive — and
cunning, as misery invariably is. You stole this deed.
Having been my cousin's companion on his last voyage,
and so learnt his story ; and being the sole survivor from
the wreck, you devised this fraud, hoping, if you made
no more of it, to sell the will to the highest bidder.
Gabriel. I cannot think you mean it. This is to try me.
act I.] The Knight of the Maypole 23
Anthony. Oh, you will be tried soon enough. That
you did not reckon on. Your shipmates are dead ; you
have, I should hazard it, no relations or friends in this
country ; and you knew from Gabriel that there is none
alive in England except myself and Mistress Grey who
can remember and who could have recognized him. I
grant that these conditions appeal to the criminal mind ;
they seem to invite imposture : but I beg you to note that
in a court of law they leave your claim unsupported by a
tittle of evidence, now that I have the document you stole.
Gabriel. Agnes will know me, if love and constancy
Survive below, and justice anywhere.
Anthony. Agnes ? Umph ! There again cunning is not
cunning enough ; the true Gabriel would have flown to
Agnes Grey at first ; not to me.
Gabriel. I know not where she is !
Anthony. My good fellow, anyone could have told you
that : she lives at Richmond Court. Cunning can do
much ; it can be circumspect and provide for many con-
tingencies ; but it always omits to make the world over
again.
Gabriel. I cannot be myself; you are not you;
And this is not the earth we are spun upon,
But some accursed changeling orb where hate
And all iniquity usurp the thrones
Of love, of honour, and of noble thoughts.
Anthony. This is earth's old England, the same that
men have bragged about since Caesar's time. It is true
24 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
a civil war, the usurpation of a most wise and invincible
conqueror, and the return of a wench-enchanted King
have played the deuce with property and the minds of
men. I, for example, am not by any means the man I
was
Gabriel. One truth at last !
Anthony. — not the magnanimous fop Gabriel described
to you. In these times of potent change and insidious
chance I watched the rise and fall of many men, and I
noted that love, honour, friendship, magnanimity, and
such effeminacies, were continually on the lips, and con-
spicuous in the ineffective conduct of those who went down
— on both sides, of all persuasions ; whereas the hardy,
salient spirits that emerged from every catastrophe more
deeply rooted in the fat soil of the world's best gifts,
gratified and invigorated by the sweet air of consideration,
understood instinctively that love, honour, friendship,
loyalty, and the whole array of tender virtuous words are
only the inventions of fools to gloze and flatter their own
weaknesses.
Gabriel. This is a voice out of the nether pit !
Anthony. I applied my observation ; while the Presby-
terian throttled the Churchman, and the Independent
snatched away the bone they fought for, I, an honest man
of the world, left party alone, and established myself
securely in Sutton-Highcroft — so securely, that were you
in reality my cousin Gabriel, you would find it impossible
to oust me. I may tell you — or remind you, if you heard
act i.] The Knight of the Maypole 25
it from my cousin — that my uncle, a merchant-adventurer,
bought this estate with spoil of the Spanish Main. We
are a new family here ; there are no old associations for a
claimant to depend on. I have made myself popular with
all classes ; I have interest at court : here I am ; here I
stay. And it pleases me, for it is vengeance. This
Gabriel, whom you personate, was that kind of hateful
darling, beloved of old men and young girls : he supplanted
me in my uncle's good graces, and stole the heart of the
woman I desired. Now I possess the whole estate, of
which in his maudlin and most offensive good-nature he
offered me a share, and I shall shortly marry that very
Agnes Grey, whose love, in his ignorance of humanity,
he imagined he had won for ever.
Gabriel. Though I were buried I should have power to
rend
The leaden casket and the weight of earth
That I might smite the traitor on the mouth.
[Freeing himself from the Constables, he seizes
Anthony by the throaty and raises his hand
to strike him, but refrains and hurls him
from him. Anthony falls backward, and
rolls over stunned for the moment.
Messent. Dead, as I'm a constable !
Gabriel. At Richmond Court !
[While Gabriel is taking a rapier from the wall,
Mowlem puts the will in his pocket, winking
to Messent, who nods approval.
26 The Knight of the Maypole [act i.
And who shall hold me now ?
Keep back, dull dogs, or I will stretch you out
Beside your whipper-in.
[Anthony recovering, struggles to his feet.
A weapon makes
A man the master of his fate ! [Goes out.
Anthony. [Attempts to follow Gabriel, but finds himself
lame.] Hold him ! Hold him ! The will ? Gone ! After
him, knaves ; bring him alive or dead. What do you
linger for ? Your places are at stake, I tell you. Find
him ! Find him, or I shall beggar you both for life !
ACT II
Scene. — Richmond Green. A tower and cupola of Rich-
mond Court Palace are visible above the elms, and
through the elms at the back a glade opens, showing a
vista of woodland.
On the right is the gateway of the palace. On the
lefty a seat beneath an old tree. Near the centre^ a
small trench with sods aud earth arranged about it.
It is early morning on the first of Ala y.
With the rising of the curtain Messent and Mow-
LEM enter at the back.
Mowlem.
AND which is the oldest tithing-man in the parish ?
Messent. Why, that be I.
Mowlem. Have you no sense of your own dignity, then ?
Bear up. We shall catch him now. He is hereabout
for certain.
Messent. Not a step more I ! I am too feeble and
defective ; for man by night is like an owl by day.
Mowlem. Let us determine together as regards the
document.
Messent. Document ? Document will do. Howsom-
ever, doxology is a more worshipful word.
28 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Mowlem. I tell you there's money in it.
Messent. Not a farthing's worth. There 's nothing
now to be done but to return to the squire.
Mowlem. And be ruined.
Messent. Not an iotum ! We can say that we found
the document ; that is, we can prevaricate, which is one
of the most common and approved customs in witness-
bearing. If we bring the will the squire will forgive us
the way. That is my dissension. And look you, good-
man Mowlem : keep your place heretofore. You stole
the will and thereby unbeknowingly took the lead, which
is appropriate to me, because I am the oldest tithing-man
in the parish, and a well-known wiseacre and proverbial
person.
Mowlem. Take you the will then.
[Gives Messent the will.
Messent. Me the will ?
Mowlem. Ay, since you lead the way.
Messent. [Pocketing the zvill.~\ Good ! — Follow me.
Mowlem. I will, and to some purpose too.
Messent. Very well. Come to heel.
Mowlem. Shall — at my own time. To be clapped in
prison with a hundredweight of iron about my wrists and
ankles is no part of my progress. Do you think the
squire is no wiser than his man ? Go you on with the
will ; tell the foolishest lie you can, and be as penitent
as a truant ; yet will his worship ferret the truth out
with two glances and a " Now then, Messent " ; and
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 29
while you are shaking in your shoes, in come I with my
story.
Messent. And what would your story be ?
Mowlcm. That you stole the will as I endeavoured to
arrest the madman ; what black proposals you made to
me when you revealed the theft ; how I denounced you,
and how you then outran me, being longer limbed than I,
to have speech of his worship first, and make peace for
yourself.
Messent. Keep you the will since you stole the will.
[Returns the will to Mowlem.] Truly, you are a man of
a very villainous mind.
Mowlem. And you of a tall and a muscular body ; we
could do much together. This ragged sailor is a high-
spirited gentleman, and honest in his intentions ; he will
pay us well for the will when he comes into his property.
The squire, although he would promise more, would cheat
us and disgrace us in the end.
Messent. I am hungry and sleepy, neighbour.
Mowlem. And so am I, and so is he. We shall run
him to earth in Richmond.
Messent. I am sure he has escaped to London.
Mowlem. Not he ! you forget always that Mistress
Grey, his old sweetheart, is hereby.
Messent. Ay, that 's a reason, indeed ; that 's our
sheet-anchor, the very blanket of the business, for I have
been in love myself, and acquainted with passion. Let
us sit down here and wait till he comes.
30 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Mowlem. Is that all your wisdom ! He dodges us, see
you, while we dog him. We must take some by-way to
Richmond, and there we shall find him changing his rags.
Could he present himself before his mistress in a swabber's
cast-off duds ? Consider, neighbour ! We tracked him
to Farmer Jephson's, and then we lost him to find him
again
Messent. After we had trudged half across Surrey,
neighbour !
Mowlem. No matter for that. We found him again,
on our way back slipping out of Farmer Jephson's barn an
hour before dawn. We had him, neighbour, we had him,
but for your holloa.
Messent. And why should I not holloa ? I am addicted
to holloaing.
Mowlem. We lost him in Richmond Park ; but we'll
pick him up again in Richmond Town. Take my arm,
constable.
Messent. Certain, I must be more tired than you, being
as there is more of me ; and I must be emptier and hungrier
than you too.
Mowlem. Truly, neighbour, as a larder your dimensions
excel mine.
Messent. Dimensions ! I have no dimensions, thank
God, nor any wen or wart about me ! All the Messents
are well-favoured and notorious, and have been any time
— I was never so sleepy — since the Wars of the Roses.
[They go out.
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 31
Enter Sir Charles Aldred. He looks about, and takes
a letter from his pocket.
Aldred. An enigma ! A most extravagant rendezvous !
[Reading.] " Ride post-haste on receipt of this to Rich-
mond Palace. Make no debate of the tyranny of my
message. Circumstances are imperative, not I. Leave
your horse at the Star and Garter, and have no signs of
a rider about you. Await me by the Palace Gate, if you
find me not there before you. H. B." It is without
doubt Harry Beaumont's writing, but I cannot fathom
the meaning.
Enter Sir Harry Beaumont.
Beaumont. Aldred ! I saw your horse in the stable.
Aldred. I was but now concluding that either I had
lost my wits on receipt of this, or else that you had lost
yours when you wrote it. You have put my goodwill to
an unheard-of test, and exhausted both my patience and
my impatience. I am callous to all moods and emotions.
Beaumont. Oh, I shall pierce your callosities! Awhile
after midnight the King began to gossip, as he will do,
of his escape from Worcester, and how he had lived on
bread and cheese and possets of skimmed milk and small
beer, and had walked incredible distances by night in hob-
nailed shoes. Someone or other, a little in liquor or so,
and tired of the King's divagations, cries out, "Your
32 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Majesty never walks by night now." " What do you
mean by that?" asks the King. "Oh," says the other
— for the King liked not the interruption ; " I should
love to walk by night with your Majesty." " And so
you shall," said the King, starting to his feet. " A
cloak and a hat ! " he cries ; " and who 's for Richmond ?
And who will walk with me? " Incontinently the whole
company called for cloaks and hats ; and they may be
here before the sun is an inch higher, for although we
rode, they had by much the start of us. I had word of
this by chance at Chifflnch's, and determining to be of
the party thought you would wish to join it too.
J hired. I warrant you ! Where the court is there
should the courtiers be gathered together. But what an
aimless frolic it is !
Beawnont. Not so aimless neither. The King comes
by night where he would have come by his own appoint-
ment in the day.
Aldred. But why should he come a-Maying to Rich-
mond at all ?
Beaumont. That is known also. Some amateur of
women fired his fancy with an account of the infinite
beauty and grace of the daughter of old Sir Alan Grey ;
she lives here alone until some provision be made for
her.
Aldred. He goes a-hawking, does he !
Beaumont. And is now arrived ! Listen ! Let us skirt
the Green by the elms and join him immediately.
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 33
Aldred. And we shall seem to come in with the others.
I would not have missed this for a dukedom. {They go out.
Enter Charles II. — the young Charles, very handsome
andaclive. After him Sir Gilbert Hamilton.
Charles. Well, I have won.
Hamilton. I am spent, sir ; and your Majesty has
scarce turned a hair.
Charles. Nay ; I have barely beaten you by the length
of two shadows. Where are the others ? I profess the air
is fresh and sprightly. I am sorry we have reached the
goal. [Re-enter Beaumont and Aldred.] Ah ! Harry !
you here, too. Aldred ! What time have we taken ?
Beaumont. Some five half hours or so.
Aldred. I have had walking enough to last me till mid-
summer.
Charles. I could tramp it back again. \JValks about.
Hamilton. Out of the earth or dropped from middle
air, or have you cloaks of darkness and seven-leagued
boots ?
Beaumont. We are men of mystery.
Aldred. And the King allows us.
Enter a number of Courtiers.
Charles. Good morrow all ! We have walked by night ;
and, faith, some of us look like ghosts. [Regarding the
trench.] Here is accommodation for one at least. What
kind of grave may this be, think you, Beaumont ?
D
34 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Beawnont. It is somewhat of the shortest for a grave.
Arc your Majesty's subjects buried upright?
Charles. Upright and downright, puritan and cavalier,
we bury them all, Harry ; we bury them all.
Beaumont. There is no help for that.
Aldred. A short life and a merry, then !
Charles. Merry and long, say I !
Enter Gabriel. // must be understood that the King's
cloak hides his ribbon and star.
Welcome, friend ! Are you the gravedigger ?
Gabriel. No.
Aldred. More likely a grave-breaker.
Gabriel. No.
Beaumont. Plenipotentiary of ragamuffins?
Gabriel. No.
Hamilton. Ragpicker in ordinary at Richmond Court ?
Gabriel. No.
Charles. There is a lofty good humour, a grave serenity
about your monosyllabic excellency that pleases me. I
like a blunt fellow, whether he be a severe negative-positive
yea-and-naycr like you, or an assertive careless dog who
says all he means and more.
Gabriel. Like you.
Aldred. Rascal ! Know you
Charles. Tush ! How can he ? What is your name,
friend ?
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 35
Gabriel. I'll tell that to my friends.
Charles. What are you, then ?
Gabriel. I know not. Can you tell ? Can any man
Announce himself?
Charles. Your mystic meaning, sir ?
Gabriel. I fear me you would never grasp it.
Charles. Why ?
Gabriel. Because you are inferior by birth.
Charles. Inferior by birth ?
Gabriel. Even so. To be
Of lofty rank and rich is to be bred
A fish in air.
Charles. Odd's fish, indeed !
Gabriel. 'Tis so ;
And paltry creatures are made men by toil.
Shoulder to shoulder with the day and night,
The seasons and the tides, the heat, the cold,
Men grow like powers of nature, hope and fear
Of elemental things their only moods.
All night I waked, brooding upon the world.
The King himself is shadowy, unreal,
Beside the haggard peasant who foresees
Labour and pain the grave alone can end,
But cannot tell whether, when winter comes,
There shall be fire and food for him and his.
Charles. Then you announce yourself a leveller ?
Gabriel. That least of all. I know not what I am !
The turbulent multitude of passions, powers,
36 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Whims, aspirations, lusts, necessities,
The miracle of vision, speech and deed,
The glory and terror of love and hate, the soul —
Must we affront it with a hackneyed word,
Some nickname of a seel ? Why even to say
" I am a man" imprisons cruelly
This nameless thing that gropes among the stars
And grovels in the deeps.
Beaumont. Grovel and grope !
Charles. Ay, ay ! Now you grow melancholy. Come,
Be merry.
Gabriel. Truly that were best for me !
I know too well that rags and melancholy
Should ever be apart. To drench poor folk
With melancholy is to pour rich wine
Into a sieve — a perfumed hippocras
That must be drunk from golden goblets chased
With images of beauty : palates dull
From coarse food cannot savour it ; its fume
Palls in a comfortless environment,
Even as a diamond in a brooch of lead
Dim like a dead eye shows.
Charles. A working mind! Well, I'm for breakfast;
then to sleep till noon.
" Mad Tom is come to view the world again,
And find a cure for his distempered brain."
How does it go ?
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 37
" In angry mood he met old Time
With his pentateuch oi tenses ;
And now he wanders night and day,
To find his straggling senses."
Good morrow, Tom-a-Bedlam !
Gabriel. Impudent fop, liar, and thief unhung !
[Draws his rapier. Aldred intercepts his attack
on the King, and in a few passes Gabriel's
rapier is twisted out of his hand.
Unslept and starved, I was a fool to fight !
Yet look you, sirs, I am not as the world is ;
All of me speaks aloud the thing I feel ;
But mad? To call me bluntly Tom-a-Bedlam
Upon some hasty phrases — truly said,
For if I would I know not how to lie —
Is most ungentle, mean and barbarous.
Charles. Good fellow, I see you are hardly in condition
to answer for yourself; but you interest me, and we must
know more of you. Now I think of it I shall make you
acquainted with the King, who comes to-day to Rich-
mond. That may be your opportunity. [To Aldred.]
You took his weapon : give him your purse — from me.
[Aldred hands Gabriel his purse.
Gabriel. You help one who needs help if ever man did !
I am other than I seem. I shall return this gracious
purse, and invite your blade again, when my own may
chance to be more at your service and less at your com-
mand. To whom am I indebted ?
38 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Charles. That you shall know when you make yourself
known. Get into some less irrational garb, and be at the
palace by noon. There shall I bring you to speech with
the King. I have not known such an appetite since I
lodged at Boscobel.
[Goes out followed by Beaumont, Hamilton,
Aldred, and the others. Gabriel picks
up his rapier, and as he is going out stops
suddenly, looking into the wood.
Gabriel. I am mad indeed, or dreaming. Agnes Grey?
She moves as though the solid earth were air,
And she a heavenly messenger ; her eyes
With golden glances gild the dusky elms,
And inwardly she smiles because her heart
Beats music. Now, she tarries. Ah, she dips
Her face in dew. It is the first of May !
This chance is fate : the herald of my life
Sounds morning and a dynasty of joy.
How shall I speak to her ? What shall I say ? . . .
If she is not for me ; if Anthony
[Goes out as Agnes enters, and Grace is heard
calling.
Grace. Agnes ! Agnes Grey !
Enter Grace Myrtle.
Agnes. Well, sweetheart ; and so you have kept tryst
after all. I have been looking for you. I feared } 7 ou
would fail me, I promise you.
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 39
Grace. I washed my face in the dew of the dawn in
the ivy at my window ; for I was afraid to come after all.
But at last I slipped out ; and there wasn't a mouse
stirring.
Agnes. Except you, little mouse.
Grace. Agnes, I want to ask you something.
Agnes. What is it ?
Grace. You must promise not to laugh ! All my
happiness in this world and the next is at stake, Agnes.
Agnes. I shall not laugh.
Grace. And you must give me your advice as solemnly
as if you were on your death-bed, just as I will give you
advice, if you want it, when I have a little more know-
ledge of men and understanding of affairs.
Agnes. Well, sweetheart.
Grace. Should I, ought I . . . am I old enough to be
married ?
Agnes. I think so.
Grace. Truly, now ? Swear ! swear, Agnes !
Agnes. I swear that Grace Myrtle is old enough to be
married, and sweet enough to be the wife of the hand-
somest and most charming prince in all fairyland.
Grace. Or in Richmond, Agnes ?
Agnes. Or in Richmond.
Grace. Very well, then ! Clement ! Clement !
Enter Clement Dormer.
Agnes. Are you really married, Grace ?
40 'The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Grace. Oh, I only wish we were !
Agnes. This is the prince, then.
Grace. If you laugh at us I shall go away and never
speak to you again.
Agnes. I am not laughing at you. Good morning,
Master Clement. [To Grace.] Why did you never tell
me you had a lover ?
Grace. I didn't like. It was much easier to bring him
than to talk about him. But I was very miserable,
hiding it from you. \_TVhispcrs.~\ Quick ! is he nice?
Agnes. I like him.
Grace. Clement, she likes you.
Clement. [TVhispers.~\ She is laughing at us in her
sleeve, Grace.
Grace. I thought so ! I thought so ! Agnes, he says
you are laughing at us.
Agnes. I am not laughing at you. How do you come
to be so gaily dressed ? What will your father say ?
Grace. Clement! Oh, Pm horribly afraid! Clement
gave it to me. It was easy enough to smuggle it into the
house — in a parcel — outside me; but how I am to be
smuggled back into the house inside it ! Oh, but we won't
think of it ! Do you know I never saw a maypole — never
at all.
Clement. Ah! I remember a maypole in Kent when I
was a boy. It was like a barber's pole. Do you think
it will last ?
Agnes. Will what last, Master Clement ?
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 41
Clement. This new happiness.
Agnes. Yes, if it be happiness.
Grace. Oh, Agnes ! All a year now, ever since the
King came back, people have said and sung what they
pleased, and laughed and danced when and where they
liked. Oh, if my father weren't a Roundhead ! But when
I marry Clement ! [Jumps into the trench.] How deep it
is ! It must be a splendid maypole !
Clement. [Helping Grace out of the trench.] They say
the Roundheads are going to rise again and put down the
maypoles.
Grace. Yes ; and I heard that they are going to begin
at Richmond. I wonder if my father has anything to do
with it.
Agnes. Who put this nonsense into your foolish
pates? Master Clement, is Grace to be Queen of the
May?
Grace. Not I, indeed !
Agnes. Who then ?
Grace. Nobody knows.
Clement. But we — we shall vote for you.
Agnes. Pooh ! Simpletons ! [The sound of a horn is heard.
Clement. They are starting with the maypole now !
They bring it through the town. Oh, I should like to
meet them ! Shall I ?
Grace. Fly, dear, fly ! [Clement runs out. The horn
is heard again.] He has taken the wrong way ! I shall
meet them first. [Runs out.
42 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Agnes. To think that these happy creatures will one
day be old !
[Re-enter Gabriel, unseen by Agnes.]
Why is my life so empty ? Every morn
Hope wakens me, but nothing still betides.
Surely some gladness, some transporting joy
Will snatch me up before my flower of life
Has withered with its fragrance all unproved !
Gabriel. Agnes ! Agnes Grey !
Agnes. Who are you ?
Gabriel. Agnes !
But is it Agnes Grey ? Through the dim wood
I saw you glimmer on me from the past,
The very image of the wondering girl
The wondering boy first kissed. But now you seem —
Ah ! what you are — that very wondering girl
Become a woman beautiful and wise
Sweetl}- requiring adoration.
Agnes. No ! . . .
And you are Gabriel Ashe. You were not drowned,
And Anthony's mistaken.
Gabriel. Anthony !
Agnes. Yes, he believed the news ; but I refused
To think all hands were lost, you being one.
[Twitching his ragged sleeve.
I see how it has gone with you. No, now ;
I did not mean to hurt you. As you were
act II.] The Knight of the Maypole 43
You are ; for still your eager reckless heart
Thrills on your tongue ; your whole soul speaks at once
In every look and deed. Ah, Gabriel !
Gabriel. I need no pity.
Agnes. No ? — What have you done
Since Worcester fight? Remember how you came,
You and my father, hungry, worn and hurt —
You bore the banner in my father's troop
And had it round your body like a sash,
Sodden and limp with blood : to Warwick 'twas
You came, where I was living with my nurse —
Old Deborah, the sweetest Puritan
That ever starched her face, and well or ill
The only mother whom I knew. Dear Soul !
She died in France a month before my father.
Gabriel. Your father ?
Agnes. Dead, Gabriel, a year ago.—
But after Worcester.
Gabriel. Oh, you bound our wounds,
And hid us in a loft till Cromwell's men
Gave o'er the search.
Agnes. You needed pity then.
Gabriel. And that same pity ripened into love.
Agnes. Such love as girls of sixteen think they feel.
Gabriel. Ten years ago
Agnes. Well, we must meet again.
And talk of those old times ; to-morrow, say.
Gabriel. This is all wrong ; it must not be this way :
44 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
I love you, Agnes, and I need your love.
Agnes. But what if I be wed ?
Gabriel. You are not wed.
Agnes. But I may be betrothed.
Gabriel. You are — to me.
Agnes. Ungenerous, to urge the childish past
After ten lonely, long, sad, wasted years !
Gabriel. After ten years of undivided love,
Wherein your image, married to my soul,
Endeared to me long travail and despair,
And made mere life desirable in times
Of harshest fortune, malice waked a storm
That shook the full-eared harvest of my joy
And home-returning pride. Hither at once
I came
Agnes. 'Twas you who sought me yesterday ! —
A beggar, so they said, importunate
And dangerous. And you withheld your name.
Gabriel. My name 's a criminal ; and I was bent
On meeting you unwarned — as I have done.
They told me you were wearied, having been
To Sutton-Highcroft — news that withered me
With terror lest the lie should prove no lie :
For he that was my friend of friends, even he
Had changed into a devil ; and my old love,
Betrothed to him, he said, had ridden alone
To visit him. It hacked and tore my heart !
Though now I come resolved to know the truth,
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 45
I fled it wildly then : how I outlived
The night, or where it passed, I cannot think ;
I am hunted, too — because I am myself:
But that 's indifferent. If my love be false,
Beauty and truth are only dazzling baits
By evil set to catch the souls of men,
And life, the shameful mask of foul decay,
A cheat for honest hearts to fling away !
Agnes. I understand no word of this at all !
Gabriel. Say you are only mine ; and have no lover —
Excepting Gabriel Ashe.
Agnes. I am my own;
And lover I acknowledge none. Good-bye.
Gabriel. You shall not go. [Seizes her arm and holds
her.] I need you — need you now.
Now is the crisis of your life and mine.
Think of it ; as by magic o'er a gulf
Of years we meet, and, looking doubtfully
Down the unfathomed past, ere we can breathe,
We find the opposing precipices knit,
And you and I, who hung shrouded in mist
On either rugged cliff, alone and sad,
Suddenly stand together in the light,
The green and stable earth beneath our feet,
Morning about us, and the song of birds ;
Summer begun, and fate on every hand
Urging by most decipherable signs
The union of our hearts sundered so long.
46 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
Agnes. Strong words and eloquent ! But tell me,
friend :
What should unite us ? People say that gold
Is the best solder for a pair of hearts.
Gabriel. Gold ! — gold and power, the salt and spice of
life;
Ease and renown, most savoury condiments ;
And love, life's wine.
Agnes. But you are poor, and 1
Have scarce enough for one to starve upon.
We are not children ; let this folly end.
Gabriel. This folly is philosophy to me.
You say we both are poor ; love unalloyed
With wealth, may haughtily confederate
Two gallant hearts in brilliant poverty.
Agnes. Love, unalloyed with wealth, confederates
hearts
As once I saw a fire at night combine
Two cots in brilliant ruin ; morning showed
Ashes and smouldering stench. [Twitching bis rags, ,] Ah!
Pah!
Gabriel. It is my raiment that offends you so.
Agnes. Indeed, your raiment kills the thought of love.
Love keeps a scant)' wardrobe I have heard —
Blushes, they say, and little else ; but rags !
Cupid as scarecrow ! No !
Gabriel. You shall not go !
My dress is like the decade ending now,
act II.] The Knight of the Maypole 47
Only my outward part. You must be mine ;
And as I straight shall cast these rags away
For silk and lace, so shall I doff my date
Of misery, and re-invest the years
With you — your beauty and dclightfulness,
That have been still the core of all my life.
Agnes. Gabriel ! Gabriel ! In silk and lace
Perhaps your passion might commend itself
More courteously. I am curious to see
How finery becomes it ; in these rags
It smokes and sputters like a fire of weeds,
But in a clear flame, Gabriel, who can tell ?
[At intervals during the above the sound of pipe
and tabor, and the note of a horn have been
heard. Now the music is close at hand, and
the Mayers enter. Two Pipers, a Horn-
player, and a Taborer precede the Maypole,
which, carried on the shoulders of three lads,
is set up at once. Grace and Clement join
Agnes Grey. Gabriel looks on, leaning
against a tree. A ring has been finned
round the Maypole, when Myrtle and a
posse of Roundheads enter quickly. Upon
their entrance the ?nusic ceases. Grace hides
behind Clement.
Myrtle. Where is my daughter? [To Clement.] Ha !
affronter of age, seducer of youth, where is my daughter ?
[Grace sobs, covering her face with her hands, and her
48 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
father seizes her.'] Where got you this cursed bedizenment ?
Quake, quake, girl ! Are you not afraid that the earth
shall open and swallow you up ?
[Snatches her hood off and throws it on the ground.
Grace. I wish it would ! I wish it would !
Myrtle. [To Clement.] And as for you, debauched
reveller, you shall answer this to the civil power ! You
shall answer it, sir ! But my own poor affair must wait.
True hearts, down with that pagan idol !
[The Roundheads attack the Maypole. Gabriel
drawing his rapier gets in front of the May-
pole, and with his back to it beats down the
staves of the Roundheads. Clement
wrenches a stave from one of the Roundheads,
and with his back to Gabriel defends the
Maypole on his side.
Re-enter Beaumont, Hamilton, Aldred running. They
take part against the Roundheads. Then the King
re-enters with the other Courtiers. The King, having
thrown off his cloak, his ribbon and star are visible.
Many Voices. The King! The King !
[The fighting ceases. Gabriel, recognizing in
the King his recent interlocutor, kneels and
offers his rapier. The Mayers all kneel.
The Roundheads uncover, but do not kneel.
Clement kneels beside Grace, and gets his
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 49
arm about her waist. Agnes is surrounded
by a number of Courtiers, old acquaintances.
Charles. Arise, Sir Knight of the Maypole. We saw
your gallant defence ; it more than atones for your error
in drawing upon us.
[Gabriel rises, and is about to approach Agnes,
but she looks away. He leans disconsolately
against a tree.
Myrtle. Truly, Charles Stuart, this is an opportunity,
a providence I looked not for ; but, doubtless, I shall be
mightily borne through.
Roundheads. \JVith approbation.^ Hum !
Myrtle. I have that to say
Beaumont. Which were better left unsaid.
Roundheads. \_With disapprobation.^ Um !
Charles. Nay, I will hear him : I would willingly
know more of my good Puritans.
Roundheads. Hum !
Charles. What is your name and calling ?
Myrtle. Isaiah Myrtle, a poor grazier, whom the Lord
has prospered.
Charles. I doubt not the prosperity, Isaiah. Whom
have you by the hand there ? She is scarcely arrayed like
one of the godly.
Myrtle. Alas, it is my daughter.
Charles. How, Isaiah ? No man need be ashamed of
such a daughter.
Myrtle. She has been led astray by a brawler of the
E
50 The Knight of the Maypole [act ii.
town — one Clement Dormer, a widow's son, who mis-
spends his time and his mother's wealth.
Charles. Which is Clement ?
Grace. This — this, your Majesty.
Charles. Clement, what have you to say for yourself?
What, tongue-tied ? Nay, Clement, be not ashamed. I
do not altogether credit the accusation against you. Be
all assembled on the Green again at noon. Let Master
Myrtle bring his daughter ; and, Master Clement, see
that your mother accompanies you. This matter should
not be difficult to arrange. Where is the Knight of the
Maypole ? One king may make another, and, therefore,
in honour of your gallantry you shall be to-day our May
Lord endowed with the privilege of choosing your queen.
Look about.
Gabriel. {Pointing to Agnes.] Here I choose. She
was chosen long ago.
Charles. What lady is that ?
Hamilton. It is Mistress Agnes Grey, your Majesty.
Charles. Our hostess, whom we have invaded with
such scant courtesy ! [To Gabriel.] How dare you
choose one so much above you ?
Agnes. I pray your Majesty to let it be as it is. There
is some fate in this.
Charles. Say you so, Madam ? What ? You know
each other ! Who is he then ?
Gabriel. I do not wish my name known, Agnes. I have
sufficient and righteous reasons.
act ii.] The Knight of the Maypole 51
Charles. This is better and better ; and the right matter
and mystery for a May morning. [Gives Agnes his hand
and leads her to the gateway.] Strike up your music there,
and let us see the Roundheads dance.
ACT III
Scene. — A part of Richmond Green adjoining the scene of
the second ail. Blackthorn trees in blossom, spear-oaks
and hornbeams fill up the background, which rises like
an a?nphitheatre. A low knoll on the left, where are
the garlanded seats of the King and ^ueen of the
May.
The merrymaking is understood to be proceeding and
in view, off the stage on the right.
It is early afternoon when the afl begins.
When the Curtain rises, some Morris-dancers and
Mayers dance across the stage. Immediately after them
enter Messent and Mowlem.
Me s sent.
AND I the best morris-dancer in three counties !
Mowlem. Grumbling again !
Messent. Their fore-gallant is a shambler and a
moocher. I could dance better with a pair of crutches
and half a leg. [Dances.
Trip and go, heave and ho,
Up and down, to and fro.
Mowlem. Once come up with the shipwrecked vaga-
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 53
bond, and we can make terms that will make our lives a
perpetual maying ; for if he's not the real Master
Gabriel, I'll swallow my truncheon. Who's this a-
coming our way ?
Messent. Why, it 's their King of May. We shall
accost him regarding our affair.
Enter Gabriel, handsomely dressed, his style as King of
the May being indicated by a scarf and gilded staff.
He is looking behind him on his entrance^ and is at a
loss for a moment^ when he comes unexpectedly on the
Constables.
Gabriel. What are you doing here ? Get to your
gambols again.
Mowlem. If it please your kingly worship, we are
drawn aside to ruminate on our proceeding.
Messent. Ruminate? What's that? Leave words to
me, neighbour, and content yourself with intelligible lan-
guage. To ruminate is to be one that is a solitary
drinker, and you know I am never that. I am always
drunk in company. You should have said fulminate,
neighbour. Remember : fulminate, to think aloud, or to
speak in one's sleep, or to swear without ceasing. It has
many meanings.
Gabriel. Fulminate your business with me, then, and
be shot of it, like a right marksman.
Messent. We are no fire-eaters, sir. We are well-
54 *fhe Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
known constables ; and I, moreover, am the senile third-
borough.
Gabriel. What does your senility require of me ?
Messent. We are in pursuit of an attempted mur-
derer
Gabriel. Attempted !
Messent. A sort of lunatic, a mad lunatic, that banged
Squire Ashe and knocked him senseless. But Squire got
on 's legs again in a gliff, and we would fain know if your
worship has seen the jackanapes.
Gabriel. I have seen him.
Mowlem. Then are we made men.
Gabriel. I am glad of it. {Going.
Messent. But your worship has not told us where he is.
Gabriel. You will follow my instructions absolutely ?
Messent. We will, sir.
Gabriel. Where was he last in hiding ?
Messent. At Farmer Jephson's, sir.
Gabriel. Search for him, then, in Farmer Jephson's
barn.
Messent. We have been there twice already.
Mowlem. And so had he, neighbour.
Gabriel. The third time is always lucky.
Messent. Upon your worship's worth, and your honour's
honour, tell us, for we are sick and sorry men, if the
vagabond be in or be not in Farmer Jephson's barn.
Gabriel. If you find him not in Farmer Jephson's barn,
come back and arrest me in his stead.
act in.] T'he Knight of the Maypole 55
Messent. Heaven reward your honour ! We have him
now, neighbour, and squire's nose is out of joint.
[Messent and Mowlem go out.
Enter Agnes, wearing a garland as ^ueen of the May.
Agnes. At your desire, my consort of the May,
I come to know your will. Or short or sweet
Or hasty and harsh, be swift ; for those I left
Will follow soon.
Gabriel. I am jealous of the King :
Not for myself, but for your honour, Agnes.
Agnes. My honour — is too sacred to be named.
Gabriel. If you continue dancing with the King
It will be named, misnamed, un-named and shamed
Into dishonour, perfect though it be.
To bend your head and hearken breathlessly ;
To let your eyelids droop beneath his glance ;
To step aside and rest while at your feet
The royal lover sighs ! You must conceive
The inevitable end of this.
Agnes. Indeed !
Gabriel. Never in deed : but in the envious thought
Of those who watch.
Agnes. I care not what they think !
Gabriel. Or what they say ? The honour of us all
Revives or fades upon the tongues of men :
Not reputation only suffers death
56 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
By calumny ; infesting lies like moths
In damask, mildew on the fields, can gnaw
The richest nature threadbare, and transform
A liberal spirit to the aclual shame
Imputed by the slander. This is seen
In generous women chiefly ; and in you
The taint appears already, for your name
Is coupled with the King's by courtier
And countryman.
Agnes. But this is old wives' wisdom.
My ears reject it, though I hear. And you ?
Who granted you authority to task
My conduct ? You who dare not tell your name !
A shivering beggar at the break of day,
In hungry rags ; at noon, a gay gallant,
The favourite of a monarch — that very King
Whose complaisance you say calumniates me !
Gabriel. Beggar or gay gallant, grasp what I say
As if I were your conscience. Charles is here
For the sole purpose of betraying you :
The thing is known and talked of nakedly,
And some declare you are his lover now.
Agnes. Why are men's minds so loathsome ! It is false.
The King converses honourably; plays,
Like his grandsires, Henry of France and James
Of Scotland, for his people's hearts, with mirth
And comradeship ; and since I am a queen,
He does to me to-day especial grace,
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole $y
Ephemeral as my royalty though it be.
Gabriel. Ephemeral as your Mayday royalty
Your fame is, if you set my warning by !
I love the King ! I fought, I bled for him !
But I conjure you, go ! — hide in your grave
Rather than meet again this tarnisher
Of women, whose unwholesome glance itself
Can, in the world's regard, sully the purest.
Agnes. I will not heed the lying tongues of men,
But show my trust in this most gracious King.
Gabriel. He comes ! You stay ? — You know not what
you do !
Agnes. I know that I should hate to bear a mind
So mean as yours.
Gabriel. I cannot brook the sight
Of innocence debased and beauty stained !
Oh, the mere whisper of a libertine
Abates the worship of the fairest soul ! {Goes out.
Charles, Aldred, Beaumont, Hamilton, and
Courtiers enter. Agnes keeps aloof.
Charles. Umph ! This fantastical animal presumes
upon his twelve hours' sovereignty to incommode my
pleasure. I find him irksome now.
Aldred. It is near dinner-time. Withdraw to the palace
with Mistress Grey and leave him to digest his melan-
choly.
58 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Charles. A proper punishment, Aldred.
Beaumont. And the family question your Majesty agreed
to consider ?
Charles. Ah ! the grazier and his amorous daughter. I
had forgotten them. Yes ; let us despatch that matter.
Collecl the parties and bid the nameless fellow of the
May attend.
[Beaumont, Aldred, Hamilton, and the
Courtiers go out. Charles and Agnes
walk across the Green.
Charles. Mistress Grey, your quick wit can tell me, I
am sure, how to deal with the Puritan's pretty daughter.
Agnes. With Grace Myrtle ? Oh, I would have your
Majesty protect her heart from her father's religion.
Charles. Is it not rather a kind of irreligion that wars
with an innocent love ?
Agnes. An innocent love, your Majesty? All love is
innocent.
Charles. That is a perilous doclrine.
Agnes. For perilous natures ; but not for those that are
sure of themselves.
Charles. Are there any that are sure of themselves ?
Agnes. I am always sure of myself.
Charles. A proud saying. So queens should speak.
[They go out talking.
Enter Euseby.
Euseby. Here, worshipful sir ! This way !
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 59
Enter Anthony, very pale and walking lame.
Anthony. Where have you brought me ?
Euseby. This is the presence room of the King and
Queen of the May, and I inquired of one now who told
me they will all come hither shortly for the settling of the
matter of Grace Myrtle's hood and skirt.
[Rubs his hands gleefully.
Anthony. Are your hands cold, Euseby ?
Euseby. No, worshipful sir : it is an unfortunate habit
of mine, and habit is second nature.
Anthony. Habit, Euseby, is not second nature. How
often must I rebuke your abuse of saws and maxims ?
Will you compel me to reiterate hourly that the proverb
is the subtlest form of that figure of speech, commonly
called a lie ? Take now a special favourite of gossips,
chaplains, old maids, half-pay officers, and idle busybodies
all the world over — " A man is known by the company
he keeps." For example, you, Euseby Trenchard, spend
the bulk of your time with me !
Euseby. [To himself.] But not as your companion,
and so, not in your company. That puts him down
again.
Anthony. With me, Master Euseby ! And yet you
have neither dignity nor eloquence, manners, ease, nor
self-respecl. Proverbs are false coin : when the wisdom
of many becomes the wit of one, it ceases to be either
wit or wisdom.
60 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Euseby. [To himself.'] Shall I ever be avenged for
all these snubs ? If now the King be the monarch of
parts
Anthony. What are you muttering at ?
Euseby. Worshipful sir, it will break forth at last ! I
say to myself: if the King be the monarch of parts they
give him out, and I get speech of him, he may appreciate
my wit ; while with you, worshipful sir, I must hide it
away in my bosom, where it gnaws me like the Spartan's
fox. The King may say to me— why may the King
not speak to me after dinner ? The King : " Let us have
a long talk, Master Trenchard ! I have noted you, and
you seem to me a man of much likelihood." Me :
" Were I of no likelihood at all, to seem to be so in your
Majesty's eyes would create immediately a spirit of like-
lihood within me." The King : " Why, the fellow is a
born courtier ! " Me again : " Good blood cannot lie, your
Majesty. My great grandfather lived and died at the
Court of Queen Elizabeth." — It is as I say, your worship.
He was groom to a gentleman-in-waiting, and died of a
quinsy at Greenwich. — The King : " Do you tell me so,
Master Trenchard ! And what can I do for you, Master
Trenchard ? Is there ever an office or a sinecure, now —
eh ? " Me once more : " If in anything I can please your
Majesty by accepting some small post of receipt or so,
your Majesty has but to name it."
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 61
Re-enter Charles with Agnes.
Charles. Have we stumbled upon a rehearsal, or some
new conspiracy ?
Anthony. Your Majesty, this is an honest serving-man
of mine who believes himself competent to astonish royalty
with his mother-wit.
Charles. Say you so ? We shall rejoice to be astonished,
honest serving-man.
Anthony. Now, Euscby; the King invites you to dis-
play your quality.
Euseby. But it is so sudden, your Majesty ! I have
indeed a great gift of afterthought which I could easily
display without a moment's hesitation if I had time to
bethink myself a little.
Charles. Well, well, Master Afterthought, I doubt
not you will yet make a good remark. — I am glad to see
you, Master Ashe. Our pleasure had lacked something
had 3 t ou failed to visit us.
Anthony. Your Majesty honours me far beyond my
poor deserts ; but for an odd fall that disabled me, I had
paid my duty sooner.
Charles. Indeed, you look pale, and carry a limb un-
easily. Master Ashe, I shall remember your painstaking
courtesy. Mistress Grey has sounded your praises, I can
tell you. You must not stand. A scat for Master Ashe.
[Euseby goes out.] We have a merry trial on hand, and
you shall be of the court.
62 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Enter the Mayers ; among them Mistress Dormer, Judith
Rumbold, and Clement ; Isaiah Myrtle and
Grace ; Jane Gosling, Jeremy Strutt, and
Humphrey. Charles and Agnes take the garlanded
seats and Euseby brings a chair for Anthony.
Beaumont, Hamilton, Aldred and the Courtiers
enter and stand about the King's chair.
Charles. Where are the parties in the case ?
Beaumont. Clement and Grace ; Isaiah and Mistress
Dormer.
[ The four step from the crowd and make obeisance
in their individual fashion. Isaiah carries
the blue skirt and hood and flings them down
before the KlNG.
Charles. Ah ! the corpus delicti. Will you abide by our
decision, Isaiah?
Isaiah. If it stand with my interest and there be no
iniquity in it.
Charles. Faith, you butter your conscience on both sides,
Isaiah. Mistress Dormer ?
Re-enter Gabriel. He stands apart, watching Agnes.
Mistress Dormer. I will abide by your gracious Majesty's
decision, for it behoves me so to do. But if there should
be any question of branding or whipping, your Majesty,
here is Judith Rumbold — Judith!
[Pulls Jvdith fo?-ward and presents her to theK.WG.
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 63
Charles. What wise virgin is she ?
Mistress Dormer. One, your Majesty, that out of love
for my bo} 7 , Clement, will take his punishment upon
her.
Beaumont. In good truly, Mistress Rumbold has ample
room for punishment.
Judith. By proxy ! By proxy !
Mistress Dormer. Judith, your Majesty, the proxy for
Clement —
"Judith. [Pulling forward Humphrey.] And my man-
servant, Humphrey, the proxy for me.
Mistress Dormer. It is very well known that princes
have whipping-boys
Judith. And I, being, so please your Majesty
Mistress Dormer. An able-bodied woman, Judith
Judith. And desirous of Clement's well-being
Mistress Dormer. We have thought that if Judith
were to be Clement's whipping-boy and suffer in her own
person
Judith. In Humphrey's person, aunt !
Mistress Dormer. Now I have it. If Judith were to
suffer in Humphrey's person Clement's whipping it came
into our heads that Grace Myrtle might carry her eggs
to another market.
Aldred. What yesty minds these idle women have !
Charles. And what have you to say, Humphrey ?
Humphrey. A shilling a blow.
Charles. Odd's fish, man ! Is that the market price ?
64 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Humphrey. I be stout-hearted yokel. A hundred blows
is a hundred shillings. With the blows on my back and
the money in my hand, I go my ways to Jane Gosling.
Charles. Ha !
Humphrey. Jane gave me her promise an' I could save
five pounds.
Charles. And so whipping is your substitute for thrift.
Is Jane here ?
[Humphrey beckons Jane, who comes forward.
Charles. Well, Jane.
Jane. Well, sir.
Charles. Do you know what collusion is, Jane ?
"Jane. Not if it be naughty ; but if it be honest I know
un well enough.
Charles. This is an odd bargain you have made with
Humphrey.
Jane. Nay, I never make no bargains. All I want is
five pounds, and little enough to marry on.
Charles. Little enough, indeed ! But such matters are
beyond me ; and my decision is to refer them to his
majesty of the May, whose subject I am. Have you
apprised him ?
Beaumont. He is here, your Majesty.
Charles. Your highness understands the circumstances
and condition of these appellants ?
Gabriel. \_Startled for a moment on seeing Anthony.]
As well as observation and sympathy can instruct an open
mind.
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 65
Charles. What is it, Master Ashe ?
Anthony. I crave your Majesty's pardon. A shaft of
pain. It has passed.
Charles. [To Gabriel.] Declare, then, whether Cle-
ment's crime be a crime or no ; what penalty, if any ;
and who shall marry who.
Gabriel. Before I judge these lovers, a word with you,
Peasants and gentlefolk, for some have sneered.
Love that makes wisdom wiser, and heroes gods,
Confirms simplicity in simple minds,
And in his folly, cloisters up the fool.
Yet is it love ; for Clement when he robbed
His mother's pipkin, Humphrey resolved to be
Vicar for Clement's sin, received no wound
In honour or in conscience ; or if they did
It is no mortal wound ; and what appears
Ridiculous and mean deserves contempt
No more than loftiest a&s, if both be sprung
From the deep root of love. Though love and laughter
Are close akin, derision fights with both ;
Therefore to-day let mockery be dumb
Beneath the May-queen's smile. [To Humphrey.] For
you, stout heart,
I honour you. The mate you would have bought
With stripes and blood you shall possess unscourged :
The hundred shillings shall be yours. What says
My brother of England ?
Charles. Very wisely judged.
F
66 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Humphrey. What did I tell 'ee, Jane ? 'Tis better to
be born lucky than rich.
Jane. "What kind o' day will't be, neighbour?"
" Ask me at night." We'm only beginning, Humphrey.
Gabriel. Judith.
Mistress Dormer. Clement ! This is the sweetest man,
Judith. Now, sir.
Gabriel. How old are you, Judith ?
Mistress Dormer. Judith is a very good age. Always
let a young man marry a stout handsome woman some
ten or fifteen years older than himself.
Gabriel. How will that help him ?
Mistress Dormer. She can be in place of a mother to
him or an aunt, as well as a wife, and check him and
manage him ; and that is what }'oung husbands need.
Gabriel. Clement, will you have this woman to wife ?
Clement. Cousin Judy, why do you let my mother
bother us like this ?
Judith. Truly, cousin, I love you.
Clement. I cannot love you, cousin.
Judith. Oh, aunt ! — But a wink's as good as a nod to
a blind horse, cousin ; I would never marry a man against
his will. You remember when I said that, aunt ?
Mistress Dormer. You said it, Judith ; you did. I re-
member.
Judith. Marry a man against his will ? Never !
Judith Rumbold is no shrew, and no wanton neither.
Mistress Dormer. It was in her own three-acre park in
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 67
the evening ; by the same token a yellow cow she had
kicked over the pail and upset her milking-maid, Annot
Golightly, who was caught in the stable on Shrove Tues-
day with cold pancakes and sweet ale for Tom Patchin,
that's now the squire's man.
^Judith. No; Judith Rumbold has a mind of her own;
it was noticed in me from a child. Come, aunt.
Mistress Dormer. Tut, tut, Judith! You wait till he
judges us.
Gabriel. About this theft. You took your mother's
money ?
Mistress Dormer. That he did, sir ; which he never
would have done had he married Judith.
Isaiah. Since this is certain, I am not free to imperil my
flesh and blood further. I withdraw from the covenant.
Youth and a hot head must be endured ; age will mend
them : but a young thief makes an old rogue, and such is
not for my daughter. Come home with me, Grace.
Agnes. Grace, come to me. Grace cannot leave her
duty ; she is the May-queen's bower-maiden.
Isaiah. What ! Shall parental authority have no sway ?
Gabriel. While I am King it shall have no sway over
that which it cannot control, the hearts of lovers. Now,
Clement, what have you to say ? Speak frankly. The
judge should always be the culprit's best friend, and such
I am to you.
[Clement is tongue-tied ; hangs his head and
sobs, hiding his face.
68 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Mistress Dormer. [Tearfully. ~] Oh, sirs, he never stole it !
He is welcome to my last penny ! All that I have is his !
Gabriel. You withdraw the charge, then ?
Mistress Dormer. I withdraw it ! I withdraw it !
Clement. But I did steal.
Grace. [Sobbing.] It was my fault ! I had never worn
silk in my life, and I tempted him.
Judith. She tempted him ! She tempted him !
Mistress Dormer. She confesses it ! She confesses it !
Gabriel. Without more ado, I pronounce Clement's
theft no theft. England ?
Charles. I cordially concur with his Majesty of the
May.
Mistress Dormer. The King concurs ! He concurs with
his Majesty !
Gabriel. Now, Isaiah, why may your daughter not
marry Clement ?
Isaiah. Though it would be the reverse of supereroga-
tory, yet I plainly perceive it would be unavailing to open
up doclrinal matters in these presences. Wherefore I
confine myself to this : Grace is a foolish girl, ignorant
and immature : to let her choose for herself at her years
were to warp her characler for life, even if her choice had
fallen on a suitable mate.
Mistress Dormer. This is the wisest man in Richmond !
Oh, Master Myrtle, why will you be a Roundhead?
Gabriel. And Mistress Dormer, why may Clement not
marry Grace ?
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 69
Mistress Dormer, Because I wish him to marry Judith,
sir.
Gabriel. He shall not marry Judith. That is decided.
Charles. A wise decision.
Mistress Dormer. But Grace Myrtle — a little pretty
wanton that has stolen a boy's heart from his mother !
And he is no older than she ! And it is calf-love, I
tell you, sirs ! It is that beastly calf-love which all
the world derides !
Gabriel. Which all the world derides — but not to-day.
No love at all can hold a lamp to this
That rises with the burning dawn of sense,
A new star over Eden, and reveals
The tree of knowledge fruitful in the midst
Beside the ever-flowering tree of life ;
That changes doubt and fear of untried youth
To courage and belief; and is itself
Its sanction, and the only love indeed
That marriage can adorn. Clement and Grace
Nature and I bestow you on each other.
Such is the sentence of the King of May.
Charles. Again a wise decision. Isaiah ?
Isaiah. I submit to your Majesty ; but let them wait a
year or two.
Mistress Dormer. Let them wait ! Let them wait ! I'll
be bound they'll change their minds.
Charles. And that is just. Give them time to change
their minds.
jo The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Gabriel. Brother of England, they must not change
their minds ;
For if they change their minds, soon will they learn
To doubt their hearts and falsely find out love
The mere illusion worldly wisdom mocks.
For thus are cynics and seducers made —
Men whom the world betrays with easy scorn
Of budding passion, and who betray themselves
Thereafter all their lives. Let Clement wed
His first love now; so both shall never know
Distrust of their own hearts, but live and die
The fairest vision to be seen on earth,
A man and woman venerating life,
And sacred to each other to the end !
Isaiah. But he is only a boy ; his education not half
done ; no experience of the world ; not fully grown either.
What kind of husband will he make ?
Mistress Dormer. And that's just what I say!
Clement. I must be married, mother ! A boy? — I know :
A school-boy. But how splendid it will be
Just for a school-boy to be married !
Charles. So !
Your tongue is loosed at last, my master !
Grace. Yes !
And if I be not married now, I feel
My heart will break.
Isaiah. This is mere wantonness.
Clement. It's not just to be married that we want
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 71
But to be married to each other now
That love is new and great. Think for me, mother.
Think for your daughter, sir. If I could speak !
Gabriel. You have spoken well and as a brave boy
should.
Isaiah. Yes, but his education : he is known
A dunce and truant.
Clement. Oh, my education
Is all to come ! I wish to educate
Myself in my own way, and I have set
Marriage for the first lesson.
Gabriel. And the second ?
Clement. Oh, master, we shall have a boy, I hope !
Gabriel. Yes, that will be the second lesson.
Mistress Dormer. This beats all !
Isaiah. I confess the youth is of a soberer mind than I
thought.
[The bystanders are much and variously moved.
Charles speaks with Agnes, Mistress
Dormer with the help of Jane Gosling
dresses Grace in the hood and skirt, nodding
defiance to Isaiah, who groans and shakes his
head. Judith Rumbold fans herself dis-
dainfully ; and Anthony rises and talks
apart with Gabriel. -
Anthony. So ! I was sure of it : you are the rascal who
stole my uncle's will from my poor cousin Gabriel ; and
when I had recovered it, stole it again from me.
72 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Gabriel. I have not the will. What care I for wills ?
[Leaves Anthony.
Beamnont. What new turn is this, Master Ashe ?
Anthony. An entire round of fortune's wheel, Sir Harry.
I am going to lay your May-king by the heels.
[Goes out. Jeremy Strutt stalks forward and
lays his hand on Judith's shoulder.
Jeremy. Judith !
Charles. What intervener have we here ?
Mistress Dormer. Oh ! this is Jeremy Strutt, your
Majesty ; my second cousin by the mother's side. A
prudent mouse, your Majesty, has more than one hole ; an
ancient archer had two strings to his bow ; and a marriage-
able woman must always have a do-no-better. Jeremy is
Judith's last shift, and has been waiting . . . Tell the
King how long you have been waiting on Judith, Jeremy.
Jeremy. Twenty years. I have loved Judith Rumbold
since she was a girl of fifteen.
Hamilton. That makes Judith thirty-five.
Jeremy. And my love for her has increased with the
years.
Hamilton. And with her girth ?
Jeremy. Sir, Judith is a magnificent creature !
Charles. Very well said, Jeremy.
Mistress Dormer. Jeremy, though patient, is a man of
spirit, your Majesty. And besides, a marriage with
Jeremy will keep the money in the family. And after
all, Judith, that is what our hearts are set on.
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole 73
"Judith. I have said it again and again. Let me
marry Clement for choice, for I could be a second mother
to him.
Mistress Dormer. [Explaining blandly to the King.] If
I were to die suddenly.
Judith. But if not Clement, then Jeremy — for the
money must be kept in the family.
Enter Euseby, as Major-domo.
Euseby. [To Agnes.] Madam, his Majesty is served.
Charles. A very good remark, Master Afterthought.
I knew your wit only required an apt occasion. But the
last word must be our Queen's. What has she to say to
these holiday couples ?
Agnes. Send for the parson ! Marriages in May
Are held unlucky, ancient writers say ;
But if two monarchs bless the pairs, why then
The destinies must even sing Amen !
Charles. So let it be.
[Charles gives Agnes his hand and they go out
one way followed by the court party, while
Mistress Dormer, Clement, Grace,
and the town party go out another way. Re-
enter Anthony, with four Morris-dancers
who guard Gabriel. Anthony then goes
out after the King, with whom he returns.
Beaumont, Aldred, etc., join them.
74 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Charles. Master Ashe, this is a strange interruption,
but the import of the matter will doubtless excuse you.
Anthony. Your Majesty, it is of public import. Briefly,
no purse or throat is safe where this ruffler comes.
Charles. That is his secret then : it is worse than I
expecled. You know him ?
Anthony. I have seen him only once before, but I know
him for an inventive malefactor of extraordinary audacity
and resolution ; and this time I shall take care to hold
him fast. When I sentenced him yesterday to be whipped
as a vagabond and impostor, he overthrew the constables,
attempted my life, and stole off with a weapon of rarity
and price. Your Majesty knows with what resourceful
wit he has entertained himself since. Yesterday he im-
personated a relative of mine who is dead : to-day, I
understand, he plays the mysterious stranger.
Charles. So, so, my sometime cousin ! But I shall say
nothing to add to your discomfiture.
Gabriel. May I say nothing in my own defence
Against a charge as false as hate can forge ?
Charles. What can you say ?
Gabriel. That I am Gabriel Ashe
Of Sutton-Highcroft, cousin to this — dead soul.
Anthony. Your Majesty, he is like my cousin Gabriel,
but
Charles. Understood ; a pcrsonator must always rely
on likeness.
Anthony. So great a likeness that at first I was in doubt;
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole j$
but this is not the man whom I loved more than a
brother, and whose living hand I would give all I possess
to clasp.
Charles. Have him away. [Turns to go.
Gabriel. King ! King ! You must not bid iniquity
Achieve this heinous conquest.
Charles. Answer a plain question. Did you attack
Master Anthony Ashe ?
Gabriel. Yes ; but he wronged me with malignity
Unmatched and unimagined, save by him.
Charles. You say you are his cousin. Why did you
conceal your identity from me ?
Gabriel. In rags, the very piclure of a knave
I met your Majesty, not knowing you.
And I had found my name my enemy ;
I knew I was pursued ; I could not tell
Charles. Pho ! Could not tell ! This is a magpie tale.
Gabriel. But give me leave to speak ! It is my life,
My honour I contend for !
Beaumont. Honour !
Gabriel. Yes ;
Is honour out of fashion ? Then I fear
I must have lived too long afar from towns
With day and night and winds and seas for mates,
And my own thoughts for study, since my speech
Is like an outland tongue to men of mode
Accomplished in the converse of the world.
I cease to cope with preconceived contempt ;
J 6 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
But there 's a simple way to reach the truth :
Let Agnes Grey declare what man I am.
Charles. Mistress Grey shall be troubled with your
insolence no further. You have the very accent and
shifting phrase of a detected rogue. — Let the punishment
you decreed be rigorously inflicted. For myself, being
an amused and willing dupe, I could have forgiven his
imposture ; but that a strolling fellow should assail the
affections of an honourable lady is an unpardonable
offence. [Aldred takes Charles aside.
Aldred. Your Majesty, this Anthony Ashe is known a
double dealer. I can see he is ill at ease.
Charles. You fear injustice ?
Aldred. Mistress Grey
Charles. She is not here ; nor would 1 have her name
mixed in this nauseous business. I have other discourse
for Mistress Grey. And, besides, dinner waits. Never-
theless — Odd's fish, that's a quaint notion! True —
'twould be a blemish on the day to end it with the fustiga-
tion of him who has been the life and soul of our merry-
making. [To Gabriel.] I shall offer you an alternative
in the antique style, and in keeping with our fantastic
holiday. [To a Morris-dancer.] Come hither, Morisco —
you in the yellow and red. Off with your head-dress !
Leave your bauble ! [Morris-dancer places his bauble
beside his cap-and-bells and returns to his companions^ Sir
Knight of the Maypole, you have a pretty gift of speech ;
you have shown an inclination to rebuke your sovereign,
act in.] The Knight of the Maypole yj
and a desire to manage the affairs of the universe. With
this staff of office, and in this belled habiliment, you shall
have ample liberty to indulge your garrulity and cen-
sorious temper. The post has fallen into abeyance, but
no court is furnished to the feather without a royal jester ;
our restoration lacked only the cap-and-bells.
Gabriel. Become a jester in a motley hood!
Charles. It is a fair offer to a nameless vagabond. If
you refuse it, why then the law must take its way, and
the beadle be your tailor : I warrant you he will inducl
you into a striped jacket that will not divest so easily as
this.
Anthony. If he accepts your Majesty's offer, I under-
stand we forego the present whipping ; but not the
penalty of his capital crimes.
Charles. It was my purpose, with your goodwill, to
condone everything. However, if you insist upon the
law
Anthony. He is trebly a villain : impostor, robber,
would-be murderer !
Charles. Why so rancorous, Master Ashe ? But I
sympathize with your hunger : you will be more for-
giving after dinner. Now, by St. Paul, it would be a
tight hood I could not get into to shun a scourging and a
hanging afterwards ! Better a cap-and-bells than a
hempen scarf! Come, gentlemen; he is bashful at his
toilet.
Anthony. But, your Majesty, he may perhaps escape.
78 The Knight of the Maypole [act hi.
Charles. His brethren of the bauble will take care of
that, as you provided. [To Gabriel.] You shall be wel-
come whenever you like, Monsieur Marotte.
[Charles, Anthony, etc., go out.
Gabriel. My friend — my love — my King
ACT IV
Scene. — The King's Apartments in Richmond Court : the
Privy Chamber improvised as dining-room, with an
ante-room as bedroom at the back. On one side an
Elizabethan cupboard in carved oak ; on the other a
Flemish buffet of the sixteenth century. To the left of
the centre an old-fashioned dining-table, forming three
sides of a cube. French and Dutch pictures on the walls.
Charles, with Agnes, Aldred and Hamilton
upon his right, and Beaumont, a Lady and Anthony
on his left y is seated at the table, on which are wine and
dessert. Euseby and a Servant are in attendance,
but after offering wine, which is declined, they go out
by a door on the right, opening into the King's Gallery.
It is towards evening and the company are about to
withdraw.
Hamilton.
NO, Harry; I maintain it : women have neither
heart nor intellect, and comprehend them so little
that they imagine they possess both.
Beaumont. Oh, but women have been known to fall in
love, and witty sayings are on record.
[Charles rises ; then the others. A general move-
ment towards the right.
80 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
Hamilton. Doubtless women have learnt to speak,
like parrots, by living with men ; and some of them
can even imitate thought and passion ; but they are not
human.
Lady. Oh, fie, Sir Gilbert !
Charles. That is your way out.
Hamilton. My way out ?
Charles. Women are not human. You must say that
gallantly, and so unsay it, and make your peace.
Hamilton. Ah ! When I said that women are not
human, I meant — I could have no other meaning — that
they are divine.
Agnes. Sir Gilbert, you must pluck the tail of this ribald
crow with me. Women have neither heart nor intellect.
That interests. You mean that women think and feel
quite differently from men ?
[Agnes and Hamilton go out, followed by the
others ; hut Anthony detains Charles.
Anthony. Your Majesty, dare I entreat a word ?
Charles. Again, Master Ashe ? It seems to me you
are the importunate judge. Why do you waylay me a
second time ?
Anthony. I am deeply concerned for the future of
Mistress Grey, your Majesty.
Charles. Urn? Ah?
Anthony. She is now alone in the world, and is under
your Majesty's protection.
Charles. You wish to marry her ?
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 81
Anthony. With your Majesty's permission.
Charles. And Mistress Grey's inclination ?
Anthony. We have known each other since we were
children, and have always been on the best of terms.
Charles. Then why not ask the lady ?
Anthony. She is ambitious, and looks higher than a
simple squire.
Charles. I think so, too. I hold you in esteem, Master
Ashe. It is needless to tell a man of tacl and enterprise
that these attributes are rare. We must serve the State
in the advancement of your fortunes. Meantime shall I
speak with Mistress Grey?
Anthony. It was my hope, your Majesty.
Charles. Send her to me, and I will lay the matter
before her. Master Ashe, I think of your future. If you
marry Mistress Grey you join the Embassy at the Hague,
and your wife can live at Whitehall.
Anthony. Your Majesty .... my desire is for retirement \
a public career has no fascination for me.
Charles. And as for your cousin
Anthony. I have no cousin. Gabriel was drowned.
Charles. Well, I shall take your word for that.
Anthony. Does your Majesty doubt the fad ?
Charles. Oh, the faft ! Fads are amenable, and can be
inclined this way and that. For my own part I carry no
bias in favour of this soi-disant cousin. Like yourself he
is in love with Mistress Grey ; and, granting him eligible,
would prove, I fear, a less tradable husband than you ;
G
82 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv
because if he is your cousin, he is clearly a much-abused
man, and on that account in all likelihood, a very honest
one. Bid Mistress Grey come to me. And, Master
Ashe, find out if that infamous impostor has donned the
cap-and-bells.
[Anthony goes out; Charles opens a door at
the back and is about to enter his bedroom,
when he notices Euseby, who is lighting the
candles on the toilet-table, A further door is
visible across the bed.
Charles. Ah, Master Afterthought ! It appears you
are a henchman of multifarious duties. Hey, Master
Afterthought ?
Euseby. [Stammering.] I am one, your Majesty — I am
one that is
Charles. One that is takes precedence of one that isn't
anywhere and at all times. Have you a key there ?
Euseby. Yes, your Majesty.
Charles. Lock the door and bring the key to me.
[Euseby locks the further door and brings the key to
Charles.] Why come you not to court, Master After-
thought ?
Euseby. I follow my master, sir.
Charles. Give me some wine. [Euseby fills a goblet
which the King drinks ojf.~\ Again. [Euseby re-fills and
the King sits on the table sipping the wine. Re-enter
Agnes. Euseby goes out.] Agnes! Agnes, have you
ever heard tell of a remarkable thing called duty?
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 83
Agnes. Yes, your Majesty. I have always thought it
a very high thing.
Charles. And so it is. There is only one thing higher.
— You do not ask what ?
Agnes. No, your Majesty.
Charles. But do you know what that thing is which is
higher than duty ?
Agnes. I have been taught that duty exalts the lowliest
action and glorifies the most honourable, just as your
Majesty's image gives currency to base metal and a new
value to the precious ones.
Charles. What is the occasion of so becoming a gravity ?
No answer ? . . . . Be it known, then, I have a duty to per-
form ; and although I fail to perceive that my Majesty
gilds it with any extrinsic glory, it shall issue from the
royal mint fine gold and full weight. Master Anthony
Ashe solicits your hand in marriage : I commend him
heartily as the ductile stuff out of which model husbands
are coined.
Agnes. If it please your Majesty I should prefer not to
marry Master Anthony Ashe.
Charles. It does please me ! You shall choose your own
husband, if you must have one ; your own title and estate.
And I undertake while the honest fellow polishes his wits
abroad in business of the realm that his good wife's heart
shall not grow rusty for lack of love at home. Pardon the
levity of the words ; though I bear it lightly, my mind is
burdened. In all my life I have not loved a woman as I
84 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
love you. I have said the same to many : it was never
true before.
Agnes. But a king has no right to love a subject in
that way, or if he so far forget himself, his kingly honour
enjoins silence.
Charles. There are rights and rites ; I honour none but
those of love. The world is now only Agnes Grey. And
that is great. I never thought to fathom the very depths
of love ; indeed, I had no belief that love was any deeper
than a wine-glass, how often soever it might be filled and
drained. Now, like a boy, I say — give me this woman
and then let doomsday come.
Agnes. The day I become your Majesty's, will be
doomsday for me ; but that day is not now, nor shall it
ever dawn.
Charles. Ah ! You will never be mercenary : you will
never hold off to make terms ! Trust my love. You shall
have more wealth than you would ever dream of asking,
and all your heart desires.
Agnes. Is there no way to be understood ? When I give
my love I shall give it freely to him who shall make me
his wife.
Charles. You shall be as my wife — the sole lady of my
heart. I would perpetuate this new-old mood you have
aroused in me. For us there shall exist no interest but
ourselves ; and you shall have the ruining of these hateful
kingdoms of mine. How love, true love, goads us into
enmity ! Commonly I dislike to see men ill at ease ; now
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 85
I rejoice even in the affliction of such a pair of pitiful
rivals as Master Ashe and the babbling May-fellow.
Which of the two is the greater simpleton ! Oh, but we
shall find means to use up in our pleasure whole nations
of Englishmen ; empty their pockets, distress their pride,
and hurt their inmost souls — the stupid, loyal, greedy gang
that Cromwell whipped, as well as the anxious dogged
knaves that killed my father, left me a beggar in my best
years, and made the crown the subject of its subjects.
This that glides through my mind at odd times, you and
my great love for you will anchor firmly there : it is the
true vengeance of a Stuart on the dull folk who under-
stand him not ! [Agnes endeavours to go out .] What? No!
And you only cheapen your beauty by such ordinary
coyness. Yield nobly and you are Queen of me for life.
Agnes. I beseech — I command your Majesty, by every
hallowed name that men regard, to let me go !
Charles. You are difficult to woo, Agnes ! A reason —
an all-sufficient reason why you must be won !
Agnes. [Recollecting suddenly a way of escape.'] Your
Majesty will remember that I am at home here. There
is a way through the bedroom. [Going out at the back.] I
hope you will soon regret what you have said, and that
you will never cease to regret it. [Enters the bedroom^
closing the door after her. Charles listens at the door.
Agnes cries out when she discovers that the further door has
been locked. Immediately after, voices in angry dispute are
heard in the King's Gallery. Charles who has been about
86 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
to open the bedroom door locks it when the quarrelling is heard.']
Let me out !
Charles. Hush ! Some quarrel has broken forth and I
mean to admit the company. [Agnes beats the door.] If
you are found in my bedroom ! [Agnes beats the door.] Be
quiet ! Imprisonment has proved before to-day a sovereign
remedy for ill-will in women. \A burst of angry voices in
the King's Gallery. Charles opens the door on the right.]
What brawl is here ? Ah, Monsieur Marotte ! I might
have guessed as much. Come in. [Re-enter Aldred
wounded^ between Hamilton and a Courtier. After them
Beaumont with the other Courtiers, and Gabriel wear-
ing the cap-and-bells with the bauble stuck in his girdle, and
a rapier in his hand.] Aldred ? Wounded ! A duel in the
King's Gallery at Richmond Court. You have abused
the liberty of the day.
Aldred. I crave your Majesty's pardon. The quarrel
between your jester and myself flashed out upon a word
the moment he entered the gallery. I could not refuse him,
remembering the morning. Neither of us would brook
interference ; and my adversary has handsomely avenged
his former defeat.
Charles. And does my jester also crave pardon?
Gabriel. No, cousin. I claim the privilege of my crown
and sceptre.
Charles. A gallant fool ! Are you badly hurt, Aldred ?
Aldred. I think not, your Majesty, but my arm smarts.
Charles. Why then, since you have been punished, and
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 87
my ingenious cousin relies upon his irresponsibility, I must
overlook the lese-majeste. Send for a surgeon and have
his wound attended. [All go out except Charles, Gabriel
and Anthony.] Well, cousin, you have proved your skill
in fence ; let us now test your wit. What are you — or
rather what were you before to-day ?
Gabriel. Anything. Say — a bankrupt.
Charles. You say that as if it were as much as to say,
" I am a second Croesus."
Gabriel. Surely. A bankrupt has nothing to lose and
everything to win. He is utterly unaccountable. With
bankruptcy and health a man may be as happy as the
day is long : there is no independence like bankruptcy.
Charles. Then you have no ambition ?
Gabriel. I have more and higher ambition than any
man ; but — I care not. As soon as I cannot with
moderate ease of jesting keep sound flesh on green bones,
I shall take an evening draught of hellebore and my ghost
shall haunt a turnpike ; for when the conditions under
which we live become intolerable we should refuse to live.
Charles. If all the world did that same we should have
the golden age.
Gabriel. Truly ; for none would be left alive but the
happy.
Charles. For my part I shall hold on to life with my
last tooth, and when my last tooth goes with my gums. —
But the question of questions. There are many rumours
abroad, and the likeliest, I am told, sets you forth a
88 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
player broken in the wars, outlawed by the late usurper,
and now a penniless stroller. Are you a vagabond ?
Gabriel. Ay : man is an outcast and a vagabond. He
wanders through eternity, the long lane that has no turn-
ing, and tarries at this poor-house, the world, to earn a
mouthful of food by a day's labour. But here is not his
home ; and whence he comes, and whither he goes — ah,
the old riddle !
Charles. Nevertheless, there are plain things a man can
say of himself, which it were wise for you to say. There 's
a whip for the fool's back in England still, cousin.
Anthony. I'll warrant he has danced and sung at a
cart's tail before now.
Gabriel. I can be plain, too, cousins both. It seems to
me that I belong to the ancient order of ne'er-do-wells,
instituted some forty centuries ago by one Cain, who was
the first vagabond by profession. I, that am now the
royal jester, have been pikeman, ploughman, usher,
pedlar, sailor, beggar, King of the May ; but always with
a thought above my condition. The insignificant circum-
stances of birth, upbringing, and the scramble for pence,
are not I : they are but the scaffolding. I am what I
shall be ; I am what I imagine. Moreover, I am the
true heir of Sutton-Highcroft.
Charles. If you harp on that I must hand you over to
Master Justice here. You have acquitted yourself to
admiration, monsieur. Proceed as you have begun and
your renown is established. And now, good-night. I fear
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 89
I begin to age, else a walk at dawn and a May-day dance
could never have tired me so. [Re-enter Beaumont.]
What is it, Harry ?
Beaumont. Mistress Grey is nowhere to be found.
When the surgeon came to Aldred he asked for her help,
as he has had proof of her skill ; whereupon her dis-
appearance became known.
Charles. Very strange ! Master Ashe, your suit is cold,
I may tell you. I pressed it warmly, but roused only
indignation. — Who saw Mistress Grey leave this room ?
No one ? To be sure you were all engaged in the petty
treason of Aldred's duel.
Gabriel. I faced that door while we fought, and Mistress
Grey did not leave the room by it. There is a second
door.
Beaumont. Oh, that is his Majesty's bedroom !
Gabriel. His Majesty's bedroom ! — Locked !
The mystery is here ! All powers of good
Vouchsafe that there be no iniquity !
[Unlocks and throws open the door.]
Agnes !
[With clenched hands and set face Agnes steps
into the room. Anthony endeavours un-
observed to escape.]
Halt ! you that slip away, the damned
Procurer in this wickedness ; here, now,
A reckoning must be made. But first I swear
By love itself, that though the seeming facl
90 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
Perplexes candour, she, beset by foes
Of virtue, trapped by treachery and pierced
With mortifying looks, cannot but be
Immaculate : I tell you this who know
Of lofty moods that England has forgot.
Agnes. What means this evidence ? [To Gabriel.]
You torture me
With patronage ; [to Charles] and you with silence,
now
That one clear word would strike suspicion dumb.
Shame on all men who martyr women so !
Why do you listen while this mummer prates ?
What is he ? Do you fear him ?
Charles. Oh ! we thought
You knew him, Madam.
Agnes. I believed I did ;
But no one owns a title to pronounce
Upon my doings !
Charles. [To Gabriel.] Cousin, what you begged
Has come about, unhappily for you.
Anthony. This is the great pretender of his time !
Agnes. A mutable pretender ! At early dawn,
A tattered wretch, he tried to master me ;
He scolded me at noon, a transient king ;
And now a piebald charlatan at night
He gives me a certificate ! Oh ! Oh !
Anthony. A piebald charlatan ! To save his skin
He chose a life of patent infamy !
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 91
Agnes. And dared admonish me !
Gabriel. If in this garb
My words are powerless ; if you will not hear
The jester, you will listen to a man
About to die ; for since [to Agnes] you know me not,
Only this hood I doff could snatch my neck
Out of the halter, malice is so bent
Upon my overthrow.
[Takes off the cap-and-bells and throws it on the
table with the bauble.
But think not,
You whose hearts are dust, whose withered souls delight
To find men servile, I would save my life
By mean submission, were my life alone
At stake : by no expedient but this guise
Of folly was admittance mine to guard
Her unsuspecting nature from deceit,
From violence, already tried it seems.
Agnes. Why will you let him rave ?
Charles. Be silent, fool !
Gabriel. No wrath of earth or heaven could silence
me !
I mean to rescue from my ruined world
Honour and happiness beleaguered here
By King and courtier. [To Agnes.] Even for one short
hour
To wear the motley and parade my wit
In worse than menial service though a King's,
92 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
And undertaken for the love of you,
Almost outwent endurance. What a hell
It must be then for her who holds her love
At the King's service, hatred in her heart
And horror of herself! But such a fate
Is lurking hereabout and vigilant
To find the moment. Noble women, one
With innocence, as holy, as secure
In panoply of chastity, as you,
Beguiled, immured, importuned, overcome,
Have lost their virtue, maugre heaven itself
Against that foul perdition in the deed
Besought with agony ; and afterwards,
Afraid to die, have died a daily death,
Apprentices of shame. Leave Richmond Court,
Now, as you are ! Escape the King's embrace ;
And keep that sanclity of womanhood
Which in their hearts the vilest men adore.
Agnes. If this is not delirium, a rank
And working villainy, a poisoned lie
Ferments among us. Death for you ? For me
The deepest wrong that women undergo ?
What strangling thing has coiled about our necks
Unseen and silent? [To Charles.] Why is he to die?
Charles. He need not die unless he chooses death.
Among other offences that would bring him to the gallows,
he almost succeeded in persuading you that he is one
Gabriel Ashe, cousin of my good friend here, and your
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 93
old acquaintance. Upon a holiday proposal of mine he
elected to shun justice ; but having now broken the con-
dition of pardon he must abide the issue, which to judge
by his inconsequent aclions, and the vehement irrelevance
of his speech, will not, after all, stretch a rope on Tyburn
Hill, but provide a tenant for a cell in Bedlam.
Agnes. But this is Gabriel Ashe !
Charles. Come, come, Madam ! You declared him to
be a pretender and a charlatan.
Beaumont. A piebald charlatan, a prating mummer.
Agnes. But that was in my bitterness of heart !
He found me captured in the very peril
He had predicted : in my pangs I shrieked
I know not what. But this is truth :
I never meant he was not Gabriel Ashe.
Charles. Madam, I respecl the tender-hearted lie ; but
it is too late now. Your first impulsive repudiation will
stand against any after-clap of compassion.
Agnes. Why .... Anthony ! This wild entanglement
Is now unwound at once ! Yes ? Anthony !
Oh, quickly, Anthony !
Anthony. What do you mean ?
Charles. Honest Anthony would willingly recognize
him to please you, madam, but he cannot : his conscience
dominates his love. [Pointing to the cap-and-bells.~] Get into
this again, monsieur, or [Gabriel takes up the cap-
and-bells and the bauble: throws the former on the King's
bed and snapping the latter flings it in the fire-place.} The
94 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
insolence of insanity ! Secure your prisoner, Master
Ashe !
Agnes, [Kneeling to Charles.] To you, as King, the
nearest God on earth,
I pray for justice : justice only, King.
You know as well as I which of these two
Is false. Do justice, King!
Charles. [Whispering.] Nothing is dearer :
But you can pay the price, goddess and queen
Agnes. The price of justice !
Charles. Hush ! your beauty, pride
And chastity all given up to me.
Agnes. [Rises. ~\ A royal price! Oh, miserable King
Charles. Hush, fool ! Betray me ! .... It is told that you
And the true Gabriel Ashe were lovers once ;
This is the man you say ; why not insure
His life and liberty by marrying him ?
Beaumont. 'Tis common law, or commonly supposed,
That any woman from the gallows-tree
Can pluck a man by marriage.
Charles. Well remembered !
You barter Hymen's for the hangman's noose —
A fair exchange, indeed, when Love's the broker !
Agnes. I have offended him. Oh, Gabriel,
The world this morning was to me a book
Unknown ; my life, a foolish story dreamt
Out wrong. At last I understand like one
Who reads a riddle by a sudden light :
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 95
I have found the golden key here in my heart,
Where it has lain untarnished all these years.
You groped for it so arrogantly — I
Adore you, too, for that : but being a woman,
I fought against my master. Pardon me !
I faint when I remember all I said.
Gabriel. Offence ? and pardon ? What you do or say,
Though it may hurt me, since you love me, needs
No pardon.
Agnes. Pardon me : you must.
Gabriel. For what ?
Agnes. For — something in my mind. Nay, pardon me
For all my sins against you.
Gabriel. I pardon you.
Agnes. What else ?
Gabriel. For all your sins against me.
Agnes. Now,
Do you believe I may have sinned in thought —
Only in thought — against you ?
Gabriel. If you have
I'll punish you with kisses.
Agnes. And if not ?
Gabriel. The punishments of love and love's rewards
Are one in substance : you shall not escape.
Charles. How say you, Harry? Another May-day
couple ?
Gabriel. What ! I am Gabriel Ashe, your Majesty ?
Anthony. Because a giddy woman loves him ? No !
96 The Knight of the Maypole [act iv.
Gabriel. Then since I know her safe and know her
heart,
Send me to prison and let the law declare
Which of us two is honest.
Charles. That might be well —
[Re-enter Euseby with the will.]
Good Master Afterthought, you are welcome here !
[To Agnes.] A faithful servant and a wholesome friend :
I have heard of kings with passion overborne,
Whom this courageous afterthought condemned,
And was the more regarded. [To Euseby.] What have
you there ?
[Euseby gives Charles the will^ who glances
over it and hands it to Gabriel.
Do you know this ?
Gabriel. It is my uncle's will !
Charles. [To Euseby.] How do you come to have it?
Euseby. Your Majesty,
Two drunken constables, ill-guided men,
Were found descanting on it in the yard.
[To Anthony.] Messent and Mowlem, sir.
Charles. Faith, and you did well
To bring it here. So, Master Ashe ; I think
'Tis not your cousin should cool his heels in limbo.
But if his May-day Majesty resumes
His sovereignty, on him devolves the right
act iv.] The Knight of the Maypole 97
To sentence this unconscionable rogue,
Who aimed to rob his friend of love and land.
Gabriel. Brother of England, I will sentence him.
[To Anthony.] For all that 's come and gone I think of
you
As one that loved me, was by me beloved.
The noblest natures sometimes are distressed
With hateful moods ; but never can succeed
In any villainy. ... No more of this !
I am too happy to make others grieve.
Come, Anthony !
[Holding out his hand to Anthony, who at last
takes it.
My friend ; my love ; my King.
H
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