LOCRINE.
But the prince -
My brother, whom thou knowest by proof, not fame,
A coward whose heart is all a flickering flame
That fain would burn and dares not — whence had he
The poison that he gave her? Speak: this came
By chance — mishap — most haplessly for thee
Who hadst my heart in thine, and madest of me
No more than might for folly’s sake or fear’s
Be bared for even such eyes as his to see?
Old friend that wast, I would not see thy tears.
God comfort thy dishonour!
DEBON.
All these years
Have I not served thee?
LOCRINE.
Yea. So cheer thee now.
DEBON.
Cheered be the traitor, whom the true man cheers?
Nay, smite me: God can be not such as thou,
And will not damn me with forgiveness. How
Hast thou such heart, to comfort such as me?
God’s thunder were less fearful than the brow
That frowns not on thy friend found false to thee.
Thy friend — thou said’st — thy friend. Strange friends are we.
Nay, slay me then — nay, slay me rather.
LOCRINE.
Friend,
Take comfort. God’s wide-reaching will shall be
Here as of old accomplished, though it blend
All good with ill that none may mar or mend.
Thy works and mine are ripples on the sea.
Take heart, I say: we know not yet their end.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. — Gardens of the Palace.
Enter CAMBER and MADAN.
CAMBER.
Hath no man seen thee?
MADAN.
Had he seen, and spoken,
His head should lose its tongue. I am far away
In Cornwall.
CAMBER.
Where the front of war is broken
By the onset of thy force — the rebel fray
Shattered. Had no man — canst thou surely say? -
Knowledge betimes, to give us knowledge here -
Us babblers, tongues made quick with fraud and fear -
That thou wast bound from Cornwall hither?
MADAN.
None,
I think, who knowing of steel and fire and cord
That they can smite and burn and strangle one
Would loose without leave of his parting lord
The tongue that else were sharper than a sword
To cut the throat it sprang from.
CAMBER.
Nephew mine,
I have ever loved thee — not thy sire Locrine
More — and for very and only love of thee
Have I desired, or ever even thy mother
Beheld thee, here to know of thee and me
Which loves her best — her and thy sire my brother.
MADAN.
He being away, far hence — and so none other -
Not he — should share the knowledge?
CAMBER.
Surely not
He. Knowest thou whither hence he went?
MADAN.
God wot,
No: haply toward some hidden paramour.
CAMBER.
And that should set not, for thy mother’s sake,
And thine, the heart in thee on fire?
MADAN.
An hour
Is less than even the time wherein we take
Breath to let loose the word that fain would break,
And cannot, even for passion, — if we set
An hour against the length of life: and yet
Less in account of life should be those hours -
Should be? should be not, live not, be not known,
Not thought of, not remembered even as ours, -
Whereon the flesh or fancy bears alone
Rule that the soul repudiates for its own,
Rejects and mocks and mourns for, and reclaims
Its nature, none the ignobler for the shames
That were but shadows on it — shed but shade
And perished. If thy brother and king, my sire -
CAMBER.
No king of mine is he — we are equal, weighed
Aright in state, though here his throne stand higher.
MADAN.
So be it. I say, if even some earth-born fire
Have ever lured the loftiest head that earth
Sees royal, toward a charm of baser birth
And force less godlike than the sacred spell
That links with him my mother, what were this
To her or me?
CAMBER.
To her no more than hell
To souls cast forth who hear all hell-fire hiss
All round them, and who feel the red worm’s kiss
Shoot mortal poison through the heart that rests
Immortal: serpents suckled at her breasts,
Fire feeding on her limbs, less pain should be
Than sense of pride laid waste and love laid low,
If she be queen or woman: and to thee -
MADAN.
To me that wax not woman though I know
This, what shall hap or hap not?
CAMBER.
Were it so,
It should not irk thee, she being wronged alone;
Thy mother’s bed, and not thy father’s throne,
Being soiled with usurpation. Ay? but say
That now mine uncle and her sire lies dead
And helpless now to help her, or affray
The heart wherein her ruin and thine were bred,
Not she were cast forth only from his bed,
But thou, loathed issue of a contract loathed
Since first their hands were joined not but betrothed,
Wert cast forth out of kingship? stripped of state,
Unmade his son, unseated, unallowed,
Discrowned, disorbed, discrested — thou, but late
Prince, and of all men’s throats acclaimed aloud,
Of all men’s hearts accepted and avowed
Prince, now proclaimed for some sweet bastard’s sake
Peasant?
MADAN.
Thy sire was sure less man than snake,
Though mine miscall thee brother.
CAMBER.
Coward or mad?
Which might one call thee rather, whose harsh heart
Envenoms so thy tongue toward one that had
No thought less kindly — toward even thee that art
Kindless — than best beseems a kinsman’s part?
MADAN.
Lay not on me thine own foul shame, whose tongue
Would turn my blood to poison, while it stung
Thy brother’s fame to death. I know my sire
As shame knows thee — and better no man knows
Aught.
CAMBER.
Have thy will, then: take thy full desire:
Drink dry the draught of ruin: bid all blows
Welcome: being harsh with friends, be mild with foes,
And give shame thanks for buffets. Yet I thought -
But how should help avail where heart is nought?
MADAN.
Yet — thou didst think to help me?
CAMBER.
Kinsman, ay.
My hand had held the field beside thine own,
And all wild hills that know my rallying cry
Had poured forth war for heart’s pure love alone
To help thee — wouldst thou heed me — to thy throne.
MADAN.
For pure heart’s love? what wage holds love in fee?
Might half my kingdom serve? Nay, mock not me,
Fair uncle: should I cleave the crown in twain
And gird thy temples with the goodlier half,
Think’st thou my debt might so be paid again -
Thy sceptre made a more imperial staff
Than sways as now thy hill-folk?
CAMBER.
Dost thou laugh?
Were this too much for kings to give and take?
If warrior Wales do battle for thy sake,
Should I that kept thy crown for thee be held
Worth less than royal guerdon?
MADAN.
Keep thine own,
And let the loud fierce knaves thy brethren quelled
Ward off the wolves whose hides should line thy throne,
Wert thou no coward, no recreant to the bone,
No liar in spirit and soul and heartless heart,
No slave, no traitor — nought of all thou art.
A thing like thee, made big with braggart breath,
Whose tongue shoots fire, whose promise poisons trust,
Would cast a shieldless soldier forth to death
And wreck three realms to sate his rancorous lust
With ruin of them who have weighed and found him dust.
Get thee to Wales: there strut in speech and swell:
And thence betimes God speed thee safe to hell.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — The banks of the Ley.
Enter LOCRINE and ESTRILD.
LOCRINE.
If thou didst ever love me, love me now.
I am weary at heart of all on earth save thee.
And yet I lie: and yet I lie not. Thou -
Dost thou not think for love’s sake scorn of me?
ESTRILD.
As earth of heaven: as morning of the sun.
LOCRINE.
Nay, what thinks evening, whom he leaves undone?
ESTRILD.
Thou madest me queen and woman: though my life
Were taken, these thou couldst not take again,
The gifts thou gavest me. More am I than wife,
Whom, till my tyrant by thy strength were slain
And by thy love my servile shame cast out,
My naked sorrows clothed and girt about
With princelier pride than binds the brows of queens,
Thou sawest of all things least and lowest alive.
What means thy doubt?
LOCRINE.
Fear knows not what it means:
And I was fearful even of clouds that drive
Across the dawn, and die — of all, of nought -
Winds whispering on the darkling ways of thought,
Sunbeams that flash like fire, and hopes like fears
That slay themselves, and live again, and die.
But in mine eyes thy light is, in mine ears
Thy music: I am thine, and more than I,
Being half of thy sweet soul.
ESTRILD.
Woe worth me then!
For one requires thee wholly.
LOCRINE.
Guendolen?
ESTRILD.
I said she was the fairer — and I lied not.
LOCRINE.
Thou art the fairest fool alive.
ESTRILD.
But she,
Being wise, exceeds me: yet, so she divide not
Thine heart, my best-beloved of liars, with me,
I care not — nor I will not care. Some part
She hath had, it may be, of thy fond false heart -
Nay, couldst thou choose? but now, though she be fairer,
Let her take all or none: I will not be
Partaker of her perfect sway, nor sharer
With any on earth more dear or less to thee.
Nay, be not wroth: what wilt thou have me say?
That I can love thee less than she can? Nay,
Thou knowest I will not ill to her; but she -
Would she not burn my child and me with fire
To wreak herself, who loved thee once, on thee?
LOCRINE.
Thy fear is darker, child, than her desire.
ESTRILD.
I fear not her at all: I would not fear
The one thing fearful to me yet, who here
Sit walled around with waters and with woods
From all things fearful but the fear of change.
LOCRINE.
Fear thou not that: for nothing born eludes
Time; and the joy were sorrowful and strange
That should endure for ever. Yea, I think
Such joy would pray for sorrow’s cup to drink,
Such constancy desire an end, for mere
Long weariness of watching. Thou and I
Have all our will of life and loving here, -
A heavenlier heaven on earth: but we shall die,
And if we died not, love we might outlive
As now shall love outlive us.
ESTRILD.
We?
LOCRINE.
Forgive!
ESTRILD.
King! and I held thee more than man!
LOCRINE.
God wot,
Thou art more than I — more strong and wise;
I know
Thou couldst not live one hour if love were not.
ESTRILD
And thou? -
LOCRINE.
I would not. All the world were woe,
And all the day night, if the love I bear thee
Were plucked out of the life wherein I wear thee
As crown and comfort of its nights and days.
ESTRILD.
Thou liest — for love’s sake and for mine — and I
Lie not, who swear by thee whereon I gaze
I hold no truth so hallowed as the lie
Wherewith my love redeems me from the snare
Dark doubt had set to take me.
LOCRINE.
Wilt thou swear
- By what thou wilt soever — by the sun
That sees us — by the light of all these flowers -
By this full stream whose waves we hear not run -
By all that is nor mine nor thine, but ours -
That thou didst ever doubt indeed? or dream
That doubt, whose breath bids love of love misdeem,
Were other than the child of hate and hell,
The liar first-born of falsehood?
ESTRILD.
Nay — I think -
God help me! — hardly. Never? can I tell?
When half our soul and all our senses sink
From dream to dream down deathward, slain with sleep,
How may faith hold assurance fast, or keep
Her power to cast out fear for love’s sake?
LOCRINE.
Could doubt not thee, waking or sleeping.
ESTRILD.
No -
Thou art not mad. How should the sunlit sky
Betray the sun? cast out the sunshine? So
Art thou to me as light to heaven: should light
Die, were not heaven as hell and noon as night?
And wherefore should I hold more dear than life
Death? Could I live, and lack thee? Thou, O king,
Hast lands and lordships — and a royal wife -
And rule of seas that tire the seamew’s wing -
And fame as far as fame can travel; I,
What have I save this home wherein to die,
Except thou love me? Nay, nor home were this,
No place to die or live in, were I sure
Thou didst not love me. Swear not by this kiss
That love lives longer — faith may more endure -
Than one poor kiss that passes with the breath
Of lips that gave it life at once and death.
Why shouldst thou swear, and wherefore should I trust?
When day shall drive not night from heaven, and night
Shall chase not day to deathward, then shall dust
Be constant — and the stars endure the sight
Of dawn that shall not slay them.
LOCRINE.
> By thine eyes
- Turned stormier now than stars in bare-blown skies
Wherethrough the wind rings menace, — I will swear
Nought: so shall fear, mistrust, and jealous hate
Lie foodless, if not fangless. Thou, so fair
That heaven might change for thee the seal of fate,
How darest thou doubt thy power on souls of men?
ESTRILD.
What vows were those that won thee Guendolen?
LOCRINE.
I sware not so to her. Thou knowest -
ESTRILD.
Not I.
Thou knowest that I know nothing.
LOCRINE.
Nay, I know
That nothing lives under the sweet blue sky
Worth thy sweet heeding, wouldst thou think but so,
Save love — wherewith thou seest thy world fulfilled.
ESTRILD.
Ay, — would I see but with thine eyes.
LOCRINE.
Estrild,
Estrild!
ESTRILD.
No soft reiterance of my name
Can sing my sorrow down that comes and goes
And colours hope with fear and love with shame.
Rose hast thou called me: were I like the rose,
Happier were I than woman: she survives
Not by one hour, like us of longer lives,
The sun she lives in and the love he gives
And takes away: but we, when love grows sere,
Live yet, while trust in love no longer lives,
Nor drink for comfort with the dying year
Death.
LOCRINE.
Wouldst thou drink forgetfulness for wine
To heal thine heart of love toward me?
ESTRILD.
Locrine,
Locrine!
LOCRINE.
Thou wouldst not: do not mock me then,
Saying out of evil heart, in evil jest,
Thy trust is dead to meward.
ESTRILD.
King of men,
Wouldst thou, being only of all men lordliest,
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 276
