Book _-«C 2S ^. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT CONRAD'S POETICAL WORKS. AYLMERE, OR e*'^^^' THE BONDMAN OF KENT; dMjin ^nmi \^' ROBERT T. CONRAD. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY E. H. BUTLER & CO. 1852. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, BY E. H. BUTLER AND CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. DEDICATORY. TO JOHN CONRAD, ESQ. How mucli that Young Time gave hath Old Time ta'en ; Snatching his blessings back with churlish haste, And leaving life a wreck-encumbered waste ! And yet I murmur not — for you remain ! You and my mother, and the hoarded wealth Of home, and love, and high and hearted thought. Which Youth in Memory's wizard woof enwrought ; — These are ''laid up" where Time's ungentle stealth Can reach them not. And 'tis a joy to bring This humble garland, woven in the wild. Back to the hearth and roof-tree of the child : The wearied heart bears home its offering. If it relume the approving smile of yore, — Guerdon and glory then,— father, I crave no more. 1* PREFATORY. There has been no attempt, in the following work, to adhere strictly to the facts of history ; though the author has endeavoured generally to portray the condition of the people and the causes and character of the insurrection. It is imagined, in the play, that the leader of the Com- mons was originally a villein of the name of Cade ; after- wards a fugitive known as Aylmere ; then, after an absence abroad, returning to England, he excites an insurrection for the double purpose of avenging his own wrongs and of abolishing the institution, villeinage, which made him a bondman. After his triumph, he resumes his original name. The tragedy, as originally written and now pre- sented to the reader, comprises much that was not designed for, and is not adapted to, the stage. As performed, it has been so curtailed and modified that the author pre- sumes that he need not apprehend the hazardous experi- viu PREFATOEY. ment of its representation in its present shape. To the judgment and taste of Mr. Forrest he is indebted for the suggestions which prepared " Aylmere" for the stage ; and to the eminent genius of that unrivalled tragedian and liberal patron of dramatic literature, its flattering success at home and abroad may be justly ascribed. For a brief historical review of the insurrection which forms the subject of the drama, the reader is referred to the Note at the close of the volume. CONTENTS. Dedication, .... Preface, .... Aylmere, The Bondman of Kent, The Sons of the Wilderness, . The Pride of Worth, To my Wife, The Pious Sister, My Brother, The Wail of the Tyrol, Chorus in (Edipus Tyrannus, Lines on a Blind Boy, soliciting Charity by playing on his Flute, Death— the Deliverer, . Absence, .... War, .... Lines, .... Byron, .... Hillside Moralities, To Roxana, The Declaration, The Stricken, . Sonnet — To a young Inralid abroad, To a Backward Lover, . The Rose and the Dew-drop, Muttra, .... To a Superannuated Statesman, . Sonnet— To Arabella, sleeping. r.\GE 5 7 13 167 182 183 184 187 191 193 195 197 201 202 203 205 206 212 214 215 217 218 220 221 224 225 CONTENTS. On the Death of General Taylor, ...... . 226 The Lone One, ......... 231 Freedom, ......... . 232 Address, prepared for the Opening of the Walnut Street Theatre, 240 The First Disappointment, ...... . 243 Sonnet— On the Invasion of the Koman Republic, 245 Lines on the Death of a Young Married Lady, . 246 ■To Maggie, ......... 248 Christmas Hymn, ........ . 249 Sonnets on the Lord's Prayer, ...... 250 Fireman's Address, ... .... . 257 Memory, ...... ... 261 Sin no More, ........ . 262 Napoleon's Death, ........ 264 Lines for Music, ........ . 266 The Right, 267 Alone, ......... . 268 The Reviler Rebuked, .... ... 270 The Wife of the Inebriate, . 272 Poland, .......... 275 The Sensualist's Warning, ...... . 276 The Beam on the Waters, ....... 278 A Sketch, . 279 The Inconstant's Triumph, ....... 281 Song, ......... . 283 The Reconciliation, ........ 284 The Waiting Wife, ... 285 Sonnet to Dr. E. B. G., . 286 To Aylmere, To The Sons of the Wilderness, 287 308 DRAMATIS PERSONS. Lord Say. Lord Clifford. Duke of Buckingham. Archbishop of Canterbury. Aylmere, or Jack Cade. Wat Worthy, ') -.TT ,r r yeome7i. Will Mowbray, ) Lacy — A Friar of the Order of the ilendicants. Jack Straw, "v Dick Pembroke, V Villeins or Bondmen on the Barony of Say. Roger Sutton, J CouRTNAY — Steivard to Lord Say. Child — The Son of Aylmere. Lord, Ist and 2d Kentishvicn, Prisoner, Soldiers, Peasants, The Bond, ^c. Widow Cade — A Neif or Bondwoman to Say — Mother of Aylmere. Mariamne — Wife of Aylmere. Kate Worthy — Betrothed to Mowhray. Female Attendants. Scene: Kent and London. Time: ^4. Z>. 1450. A Y L M E R E ACT FIRST. SCENE FIRST. The hovels of the bond discovered. Jack Straw, Dick Pembroke, Roger Sutton (bondmen), dressed coarsely, with implements of labour, as if going to their work. STRAW. Or corn three stinted measures ! And that doled With scourge and curse ! Rough fare, even for a bondman. PEMBROKE. Yet must he feed, from this, his wife and children ; What if they starve ? Courtnay cares not for that. SUTTON. His music is the lash ! He makes him merry With our miseries. Our lords are hot and harsh, Yet are they milder than their mongrel minions. STRAW. I'd cheerly toil, were Courtnay yoked this day Unto my plough. 14 AYLMERE, PEMBROKE. He seizes on the havings, The little way-found comforts of the bond, Nor vouchsafes e'en a " Wi' your leave, good man." SUTTON. Man, matron, maid — alas, that it is so ! All are their victims. PEMBROKE. Would we were not men. But brutes — they are used kindlier ! STRAW. Men are we not. Brutes only would bear this. Bond have there been Who brooked it not. PEMBROKE. Who were they ? STRAW. Old Cade, one ; Who struck down the Lord Say ; — not this base coistrel, Courtnay, but e'en Lord Say, because he spurned him. PEMBROKE. He died for it. STRAW. But what of that ? 'Tis better THE BONDMAN OP KENT. 15 To die than thus to live. His stripling son — Young Cade — remember you Jack Cade ? PEMBROKE. Not I. Our Sutton must. SUTTON. He who, some ten years gone, Fled from the barony ? STRAW. The same. Well, he A bondman and a boy, stood by, when Say Wronged the pale widow Cade, by a base jest Upon the husband he had scourged to death. What think you did the boy ? PEMBROKE. Rebuked his lordship ? STRAW. He struck him down, and 'scaped the barony. He hath ne'er since been heard of. So he won Both liberty and vengeance. SUTTON. A brave boy ! 'Twas Friar Lacy taught him this : and he Says that all men are in God's image made. And all are equal. 16 AYLMERE, PEMBKOKE. He liath preached through Kent, Till bond and yeoman weary with their lot. The down-trodden yet may, some day, turn and sting The foot that tramples them. STRAW. I'm ready for it. The yeoman all are with us. Master Mowbray, A bold, hot spirit, and Wat Worthy too. The old and doughty blacksmith, yeomen good, Wealthy and well-approved, encourage Lacy In his bold preaching of the poor man's right. SUTTON. Mowbray is trothed to Master Worthy's daughter ; And Courtnay, it is said, doth woo the girl. STRAW. An' Mowbray want a stout heart and rough hand. Jack Straw will thank him for a loving chance Of braining the pet whelp. PEMBROKE. Work you to-day ? STRAW. My wife is sick to death : I must watch by her. Yet little hope or comfort is there for her, In my poor hovel. Ha ! the steward comes — The crawling Courtnay. {Enter Courtnay.) THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 17 COUKTNAY. Sunrise, and ye loiter ! Slaves, drudges, to your toil ! or I'll so scourge you ! SUTTON. We go, your worship. lUxit Sutton. COURTNAY. Get thee gone. And thou — Why dost thou stand ? PEMBROKE. My children have no food ; Give me to feed them, ere I go afield. COURTNAY. Dost murmur, rogue ! This hath your beggar priest, The shaveling who talks treason, taught you. Off ! PEMBROKE. Give me an hour to labour for a crust. They pine, to perishing, for food ! COURTNAY. A trick — A stale device ! PEMBROKE. No, by this light, it is not. 2* 18 COURTNAY. What care I for your brats ? Away to work ! PEMBROKE. Nay, gentle master Stewart — COURTNAY. Knave, dost argue ? I'll have thee instant i' the stocks. PEMBROKE. I go, sir. Alas, my children ! [Exit Pembkoke slowly/. COURTNAY. And thou, what dost thou here ? Art silent, patch ? Wilt not to work ? STRAW. No. COURTNAY. Saucy carle, dar'st beard me ? STRAW. My wife is sick — sick unto death : I will not. To pleasure any he that lives, leave her To die alone. COURTNAY. Thou lying knave ! Dost think — THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 1^9 STRAW. I lie not^ Sir. O'ercome with toil, she fainted I' the field : four days and nights I have watched o'er her ; And cannot toil — and would not, if I could. COURTNAY {raising his staff). Villain ! STRAW (drawing his knife from his girdle). Strike, an' thou durst ! COURTNAY. I'll have thee flayed And hung for this. [^Fxit CoURTNAY. STRAW. I care not, I ! Why should I wish to live ? Would I and mine Were on the hillside lain, where bond and free Are equal ! \_Fzit Straw. SCENE SECOND. The house 0/ Worthy. Worthy, Mowbray, awe? Kate. WORTHY. Take, with her, my blessing. A good child, Kate, Thou shouldst make a good wife. 20 MOWBEAY. A blessed wife. Mine own sweet Kate ! KATE. Nay, Will, thou know'st not that. Remember, I must ever have my way ! For 'tis i' the contract. WORTHY. Hush, thou merry madcap ! A wild bird is she, this same bride of thine, Fluttering and singing ever. But go, girl ; Our holy father. Friar Lacy, comes. He must not see this trifling. KATE. Will, remember ! 'Tis i' the contract that I shall be shrewish. If there be murmuring, thou shalt be so spur-galled ! I'll beat thee, Will, i' faith ! [Uxit Kate. MOWBRAY. Bye, sweetheart, bye ! WORTHY. My heart is like mine anvil, hard and solid, And has, by a harsh world, been hammered on, For many a year ; but, on the honest word Of a poor blacksmith, this old heart aches sorely To lose her. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. {Enter Friar Lacy.) LACY. My benediction, sons. WORTHY. Thanks, father, for This timely visit. Courtnay, our lord's steward, Hath wooed my daughter. MOWBRAY. Hang him, mangy knave ! WORTHY. And for that Mowbray is to wed my girl. He swears he will denounce us unto Say. In foamy rage to-day he met our Will, And — out upon the minion ! LACY. Did he beat thee ? MOWBRAY. He knew me better. I had brained the hound. The lily-livered lecher ! WORTHY. Eight, my boy ! LACY. Nay, son, be not too heady ; have a care. MOWBRAY. Am I a bondman ? Was I not born free ? 21 22 AYLMERE, Now, God-a-mercy ! Am not I a yeoman ? No slave of Say's, nor bound to heed his lacquey. LACY. Thou art not free. MOWBRAY. Not free ! LACY. Nor I, nor any ! The curse is on us all. What though you be A yeoman born ? Go to, you are not free. You may nor toil nor rest, nor love nor hate. Nor joy nor grieve, without your baron's leave. Free quotha ! Ay, free as the falcon is That flies on high, but may be caged again, Whene'er its master wills to draw its jesses. WORTHY. Now, by my troth, he's right. We too are slaves, Albeit they do not rank us with the bond. The down-browed serfs o' the soil : yet are we slaves, And homage do with meek and supple knee. Unto our baron; follow him to the wars; Cut throats, and make, for his divertisement, Widows and orphans at a groat a^day ! LACY. And why do English yeomen bow to this ? Men of stout hearts and hands ? I've told you oft That man to man is but a brother. All, THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 23 Master and slave, spring from tlie self-same fount ; And why should one drop in the ocean flood Be better than its brother ? No, my masters ! It is a blasphemy to say Heaven formed The race, a few as men, the rest as reptiles. WORTHY. Again, by the mass, is Father Lacy right ! I'll stand by it ! LACY. 'Tis not alone the bond : Ye who are yeomen, and who should be free. Are taxed and tortured, wronged and mocked like slaves. WORTHY. England will never raise her head until Lord Treasurer Say hath fall'n. LACY. And the poor bond Become as men made in their Maker's image. Be sure 'twill come ! I've prophesied it long : And yet 'twill come ! But, Master Mowbray, this Your bridal day deserves a softer theme ; And Kate will chide thee for the gloom that gathers Upon thy brow. Farewell ! I must to the cot Of the poor widow Cade, whose sorrows ask My charity. MOWBRAY. Thou'lt be with us anon? We'll wait thy blessing. 24 AYLMERE, LACY. Thou shalt have it, son ; And this one truth, which, cherished in thy thought, Will win all blessings to thee. Wouldst be loved ? My son, remember, love hath but one life ; And smitten by the frosts of chill neglect, Ne'er blooms again : its winter knows no spring. , MOWBRAY. Not if the wanderer return again Contrite and loving ? LACY. Not ev'n then. His love Beams out like morning's light upon the form That stiffened in the night-snow. It can ne'er Warm it to life again. My son, be warned ! MOWBRAY. I fear not : who could throw away a treasure So rich as that I win in Kate ? LACY. Farewell ! SCENE THIRD. The cot 0/ Widow Cade, Widow Cade solus. WIDOW CADE. A heavy lot and hopeless ! Friendless, poor, [Exeunt. THEBONDMANOFKENT. 25 Stricken with years and sorrow, and bowed down Beneath the fierce frown of offended power ! Woukl widowhood and life would sink together Into mj husband's grave ! [Enter Friar. Lacy.) Good morrow, father ! LACY. 'Tis strange ! No aid yet from the castle, dame ? WIDOW. The castle ? No, sir, no ; they aid me not. I am worn out with years and toil and sorrow ; And 'tis our steward's wont the useless bond To turn adrift. 'Tis profit they should die. We only know our masters by our miseries. LACY. 'Tis true — 'tis true ! Their horses arQ used better — Their hawks, their hounds, are nearer kin to them Than their bond brethren. They ! they know not pity. The poor have no friends but the poor ; the rich — Heaven's stewards upon earth — rob us of that They hold in trust for us, and leave us starveling. They shine above us, like a winter moon. Lustrous, but freezing. But, good dame, to leave This idle railing, got you that this morn I sent you ? WIDOW. Thanks ! It stood 'twixt me and famine ; My boy, when he returns, will bless you for 't. 26 - AYLMERE, LACY. Still hoping, dame, tliy boy's return ? How brave Is a mother's love ! Why ten long years have past, And not a token from him. WIDOW. Oh, good father, Do not divorce me from that hope ! 'Tis fed Upon my heart. LACY. A dream ! WIDOW. An' if it be, I would not give it for earth's brightest substance. But 'tis no dream. I'm sure my dear John lives ; For when he fled, with his last kiss, poor boy ! He promised to be thoughtful of his weal, Ev'n for my sake. LACY. He went with a high heart ! For I had taught him to look up to God As his sole rightful lord. He sought a land Where the poor peasant's heart may dare to throb Without a master's leave : and ^' There," he said, " There where the human soul has slipped its jesses, Stooping no more at the rich tyrant's call, But soaring where it lists, I'll win my way, For I can do it." THE BONDMAN OP KENT. 27 WIDOW. And so he could, and has ! My noble boy ! '' Though years may pass away," He said when last he clasped me, " ne'er despair ; I'll come again, and come in honour, mother." And so he will ! {A knocking at the door.) A knocking at my door ! 'Tis seldom poverty hath visitants, Save want and terror. Enter, enter, sir. [Enter Aylmere (Jack Cade), Mariamne, and Child.) [To Lacy.) Come they from the castle ? LACY. They are strangers, dame. AYLMERE {aside). She knows me not ! My Mariamne, mark, She knows me not ! A wanderer, dame, Houseless and heavy-hearted, craves a place For these, his wife and child, beside your hearth. WIDOW. Alack ! I am but bond, fair sir ; and want And widowhood must be my only inmates. AYLMERE. Nay, I have golden intercessors, dame, Thou shalt not want. 28 A Y L M E R E, WIDOW. The home of a poor neif Doth not beseem your worship. At the castle You will find fitting entertainment, sir. AYLMERE. No, we are stricken fleers from the hunt. Who seek a covert from the wild halloo, Where the world's heartless rout may reach us not We would not flaunt our sorrows in the eyes Of mocking greatness. Let us bide with thee ; And we will be as children to thee, dame. And thou shalt be our mother. LACY {interposing to Widow Cade). Let me speak, Good dame, a welcome for thee. WIDOW {To Lacy). If you will it. LACY. Fair sir, if home so lowly be desired, — / And 'tis not lowly, for 'tis virtue's home — You will be welcome in it. WIDOW. Lady, if welcome and a willing service Can make my poor cot rich, it is a palace. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 29 And thoii, my boy {kissing Mm), shalt wake again the shout And laugh that for long years — sad years they've been — My cottage has not known. Hast travelled far ? (To Maeiamne.) MARIAMNE. Even from Italy. WIDOW. His refuge ! (Widow Cade, Mariamne, and Child, retire and converse.) AYLMERE (to Lacy). Hath our dame no child ? LACY. No : she is alone. AYLMERE. Hath she been ever childless ? LACY. She had a son — poor John ! — a noble boy, Pure as the bud unblasted ; gentle, brave ; And with a heart stirred only by such thoughts As angels prompt. But he is gone ! AYLMERE. Gone ! Whither ? 3* 30 A Y L M E R E, LACY. So self-discarding, he lived but for others ; So brave, so early wise! "Here's one," I said, "That may be made the land's deliverer." I took him to my cell, and in his soul Poured all mine own. By day and night, for years, I sought to foster in his breast a love For all men, bond or noble, all that heaven Hath quickened with its breath, and made to rank Above earth's gilt nobility, Avith angels. But, thou'rt a stranger : haply I speak that Which thou deem'st treason. AYLMEEE. Nay, say on, good father. I come from Italy, free Italy, whose altars, Unwarmed a thousand years, are now lit up With the rekindled fires of freeborn Home. Thy pupil, proved he apt ? LACY. In sooth, he did. In the hushed cloister's solitude, I taught him That bond and baron had one Sire, and all Were brethren, equal all, all noble, save Those whom their vice debased ; and that the law Of our blest faith is violate by the force That makes the feeble bond. He caught the light As the earth meets the dawn. Glowing with noble ardour. I recounted The story of those gods on earth who joyed THE BONDMAN OF KENT. SI In dying for the people, till, in his eyes, Such death looked lovelier than a bridal smile. That flinty, high philosophy I taught him. Which makes cold, hunger, suffering, in the cause Of a crushed people, luxuries sweeter far Than ease and honour on their silken couch, Tended by wan-eyed homage. AYLMERE. Well ; you made His spirit free ? LACY. Ay, free and fearless too. Nor life, nor death, had for his soul a terror. AYLMERE. I fear me thou'rt a boaster. But thy wonder — Did he, in all this budding promise, die ? WIDOW. That tone ! Have I not heard that voice before ? It must have been in dreams. Forgive me, lady. {They resume their conversatioji.) LACY. His father, though a bondman, was a rough And heady carle when wronged. He, on a day, Was struck down by his lord, the Baron Say. He was a man, albeit a slave, and rising. He shouted : " Blow for blow, by Heaven !" and struck him. 32 For which offence, as a born serf, he was Condemned and scourged to death. AYLMERE. A most foul murder ! His dog would, stricken thus, have turned upon him. But tell your story out. LACY. His father's fate Booted, like nightshade, in the stripling's heart. And angered o'er his brow with sterner thoughts, Than early life should know. AYLMERE. You're wrong, you're wrong ! Wormlike and worthy spurning had he been. Had not the memory of that wrong been food, And drink, and sleep, and life to him, until It was avenged ! WIDOW. What spell is this ? Why leaps My heart at every cadence of his voice ? (Widow Cade comes forward.) LACY. It made an exile of him. Thus it fell : The proud Say, when a hunting, happed to enter The cot of her whom he had made a widow ; And spoke as tyrant power to weakness speaks, THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 33 In scorn and wrong. Young Cade, for he was bond, The bondman, too, of Say, should have been governed. But youth, you know, is hot — AYLMERE. Ay, so he should ! He should have knelt before him ; kissed the hand Black with his father's blood ; and smiled, content, On that wan widowed mother's wrongs ! The murderer ! LACY. He flung the foul scorn back. AYLMERE {quickly). He did. He did. LACY. The proud lord would have spurned him ; but young Cade — AYLMERE. I struck him to my feet ! {Laughs.) I've not forgot it ! How kissed his scarlet doublet the mean earth. Beneath a bondman's blow, and he a lord ! That memory hath made my exile green ! (Widow Qat>'e. falls back into a seat, supported by Mariamne. Aylmere comes forward and kneels.) Look up, my mother ! Cade hath kept his covenant. Could you read all my exile's history. You would not blush for it. And now I've come To shield and comfort thee. 34 AYLMEllE, WIDOW. I knew thou wouldst ! That I should know thee not, my gentle boy ! AYLMERE {presenting Mariamne.) A blessing for thy daughter ! WIDOW {to Mariamne). Bless thee ! Bless thee ! AYLMERE. The star that shone upon my fate, when all But that was clouded. {To Lacy.) Bear with me, my father, My mind's father ! LACY. Now has o'erwearied Heaven Granted its servant's prayer, and I am happy ! Thou hast outstripped thy promise. When thou fled'st, A midnight fugitive, from the bondman's death, I little hoped to meet thee thus. But, in. Worn with long travel, you need food and rest. \_Exeunt. SCENE FOURTH. Before Worthy's cottage. A wedding festival. Worthy, Mowbray, Kate, and cottagers. WORTHY. Now, may my anvil never ring again THE BONDMAN OF. KENT. 35 To the merry sledge, an' I be not this day, Happy as ere a man in Kent. MOWBRAY. And I. Think'st thou not, sweetheart, while I gaze on thee Till my eyes fill, and I would play the child And weep for very rapture, thus to know. Thou art mine own at last — think'st not I'm happier Than the best peer in England ? KATE. Thine, Will, thine ! I am not thine ! I'll yet say nay^ when Father Lacy asks the question. MOWBRAY. Rebel ! He comes. [Filter Lacy.) WORTHY. Welcome, father ! Is not my Kate a brave one ? And yet that haggard Courtnay dared to think o' her ! No, Kate shall wed none but a jolly yeoman. LACY. They'd dance, good master ; better we retire. Age hath left little dancing in thy limbs, Old yeoman ! WORTHY. Right. My heart doth all my dancing, For this good day. {Enter Courtnay.) 36 MOWBRAY. The minion Courtnay ! KATE. Heed him not, dear Will ! Chafe not, mine own dear Will ! MOWBRAY. The leering slave ! KATE. Thou'lt not deny me now. I know thou wilt not. COURTNAY (aside). They shun me. There is Father Lacy too. And old Wat Worthy. (To Mowbray.) Nay, good Master Mowbray, Look not so proudly fond. She's not thine yet. Why should I falter thus ? I'll speak. — Fair mistress — KATE. I know thee not. MOWBRAY. Brave Kate ! My heart for that ! COURTNAY. Anon thou'lt know me. As for thee, brave master — MOWBRAY. Mongrel, what mean'st thou ? THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 37 COURTNAY. Nay, my master, chafe not : I've done thee service — spoken to the lord. And he will ban the bridal. Master Mowbray, Art thou not grateful ? MOWBRAY. So grateful, if 'tis true, I'll wed my knife to thy dog's heart. Come, Kate. COURTNAY. Now comes my turn ! Room, varlets, for Lord Say ! (Enter Say, Clifford, Buckingham, and attendants.) SAY. How now ? Art thou, carle, he would wed this maid ? Sirrah, when gave I leave thou shouldst so wed ? KATE {Clinging to Mowbray.) Answer him softly, Will ! For my sake, Will ! MOVfBRAY. I am a yeoman free, and free to wed E'en when and where it pleasures me. SAY. Ho! ho! Free, art thou, knave ! We'll see anon — we'll see ! And thou, {to Worthy) whom age should have taught duty, what 4 38 AYLMERE, Hath set thee on to wed thy daughter where I will she should not wed ? KATE. [Leaving Mowbray and clinging to Worthy.) Oh, be not rash ! Anger him not, my father ! WORTHY. Fear not, child. She's the free branch of a free stock ; and I May graft her where I list, and ask no leave Of liege or lord. So say our law and charter. SAY [to Lacy.) Accursed shaveling ! Thou it is hast taught This upstart spirit ! LACY {meekly. I have taught the truth. SAY. Vile monk, darest thou avow it to my face ? LACY. I dare speak truth to them, to thee, and any — It is my mission. SAY. Priest ! But for thy cowl, Thy mission should be to the nearest tree. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 39 With cord instead of cassock. As for thee, {to Mowbray.) And thee, {to Worthy) who prate of right ; 'tis well you know. My will is charter and my rule is law. The sun that sees you wed, shall, ere its setting. Beam through your dungeon gates. Now get you gone. (Mowbray cmd Worthy loliisper angrily together. Kate interposes.) KATE. Nay, Will, be calm ! I will be thine. Ne'er fear ! Father, speak not, but go : urge him no further. COURTNAY {to Mowbray.) What says thy bride ? Who is the mongrel now ? MOWBRAY {in a low voice.) Thou ! Slave and wretch, here is the only bride. Thy heart shall clasp ! {His knife) Remember ! Ill forget not! {Exeunt Mowbray, Worthy, Kate, and their party.) COURTNAY {eagerly.) My lord, this yeoman — SAY. Peace ! I weary of this. Get to your homes : I'll hear no more to-day. COURTNAY. He says — 40 A Y L M E R E, SAY. Off, slave ! Dost thou prate too ! COURTNAY {goiny.) Beshrew me, A dangerous varlet ! {Exit CouETNAY, Manext, Sat, Clifford, S^c.) SAY. These are the mire-gendered knaves you praise ! Clifford, I swear 'tis strange, that thou, a noble, Shouldst love these kern. CLIFFORD. Nay, I but love their daughters. But to be grave — you smile — I can be grave — They're men as good in soul and sinew, ay. Even in birth, as is the best of us. SAY. In birth ! Why now thou'rt wild. CLIFFORD. I said in birth. This crazy priest, his crazy couplet's right : "When Adam delved and Eve span. Who was then the gentleman?" A potent question ! Answer it, if you may. SAY. Why Heaven ne'er made the universe a level. Some trees are loftier than the rest ; some mountains THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 41 O'erpeak their fellows ; and some planets shine, With brighter ray, above the skyey rout. Than others. Even at our feet, the rose Out-scents the lily ; and the humblest flower Is noble still o'er meaner plants. And thus. Some men are nobler than the mass, and should. By nature's order, shine above their brethren. CLIFFORD. 'Tis true, the nolle should : but who is noble ? The scentless weed that grows i' the soil where grew The pride o' the garden ? And the dull, foul meteor Which streams where beamed a planet ? Say not so. Heaven and not heraldry makes noble men. BUCKINGHAM. Art dead to all the burning thoughts that speak A glorious past transmitted through long ages ? CLIFFORD. All this is well, or would be if 'twere true. Men cannot put their virtues in their wills. 'Tis well to prate of lilies, lions, eagles, Flourishing in fields d'or or d' argent : but Your only heraldry, its true birth traced. Is the plough, loom, or hammer ! dusk-browed labour, At the red forge, or wall-eyed prudence o'er The figured ledger. Without them, pray tell me What were your nobles worth ? Not much, I trow ! BUCKINGHAM. Thou speak'st as fame were nothing — fame, the thirst 4* 42 ^ AYLMERE, Of gods and godlike men, to make a life Which nature makes not ; and to steal from Heaven Its imaged immortality ! Lord CliiFord, Wouldst rank this with the joys of ploughmen ? CLIFFORD. Yes. I would not dive for bubbles. Pish ! for fame ! SAY. Yet, Cliiford, hast thou fought, ay, hacked and hewed, By the long day, in sweat and blood, for fame. CLIFFORD. Nor have, nor will. I'll fight for love or hate, Or for divertisement ; but not for fame. What ! die for glory ! Leap a precipice To catch a shadow ! What is it, this fame ? Why, 'tis a brave estate to have and hold — When ? From and after death ! Die t'enjoy fame ! 'Tis as to close our eyes before the mirror To know our sleeping aspects. No, by'r Lady ! I'll never be a miser of fair words. And hoard up honour for posterity. Die for glory ! SAY. Nay, an' thou die not, in a midnight brawl. Fought for some black-eyed wench, thoul't perish, coz. Of thine own spleen. But let us leave word-tilting. Did'st mark the sullen mood of yonder yeomen ? THE BONDMAN OF KENT. BUCKINGHAM. There's menace in their bearing ; how is this ? What do they murmur at ? SAY. At everything. They prate of rights and wrongs ; and talk in whispers Of the people's power. CLIFFORD. Ha ! they've found it out ! Believe me, Say, it is a frowning danger. When a crushed people, sturdy as our English, Know they have power to right themselves. 48 SAY-. What would you That I should do ? CLIFFORD. Nay, I care not, — not I ; A game of buffets, if you please ; but were I Lord Say and Suffolk, Counsellors of the King, I'd do the people right, — redress their wrongs — And trust their gratitude. SAY. Trust to the people ! The people ! Whelps that lick the hand which pets And chains them. 44 A Y L M E R E, CLIFFORD. I care not for 'em ; — but by my halidom, I think tliey wrong not those that wrong not them. Why should they ? SAY. They but ask fair words — fair words. Hail them as gods, and you as worms may crush them, Knead them with spurning heel into the dunghill : But when they bow before some fungous idol, Or rush, like worried herds o'er some dread cliff, Into a certain ruin, — seek to save them — Speak, strive, strike, struggle, die for them — and they- While your spent heart gasps out its latest drops, For them— -/or them^ — will trample on it ! — No ! The mob ne'er had a friend they did not murder. CLIFFORD. Now, as thou'rt out of breath with railing, tell me. Whose cot is that down by yon clump of trees ? Such casket ill beseems the gem that shines Within. SAY. The Widow Cade's. Why how now ! grown So musty in your taste — threescore and ten ! CLIFFORD. Nay, not the widow. Say. The flower I'd cull Is fresh and fair and coy — dewy with youth. And bright with beauty. At the cot I saw her, THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 45 And would have known more of her, but jour summons Called me away. I'll mark the house, and seek An hour to woo my rustic. lEzeunt. SCENE FIFTH. Widow Cade's cottage. Atlmere and Lacy. AYLMERE. For thy blest charities to my poor mother, My life is thine — all that I have and am. LACY. Thy worth will do me justice. AYLMERE. Justice ! Nay, 'Tis the dull schoolman's boast — an iron virtue That hucksters forth its payments, piece for piece. Kindness for kindness, balanced churlishly. And nothing given for love. Be gratitude My justice ! The justice of the soul, that measures out Its rich requital, not in grudging doles. But by the heartful, o'er and o'er again. Till naught is left to give. I'll not forget. LACY. Enough for me that thou, the bondman spurned. Despised, oppressed, art where and what I'd have thee. AYLMERE. Alas ! not all that thou wouldst have me, father ! 46 A Y L M E R E, Ten years of freedom have not made me free. I've throttled Fortune till she yielded up Her brightest favours ; I have wooed Ambition, Wooed with a fiery soul and dripping sword, And would not be denied ; I turned from her, And raked amid the ashes of the past, For the high thoughts that burn but cannot die. Until my spirit walked with those who now Are hailed, as brethren, by archangels : — yet. Have I come home a slave, — a thing for chains And scourges — ay, a dog. Crouching, and spurned, and spat upon ! LACY. Not so ; England hath yet brave hearts that will protect thee. But Say will know thee not. Unwinking craft Would pore in vain upon thee, altered thus. What name hast brought from exile ? Thine own, Cade, Would give thee up — so runs our feudal code — As bondman unto Say. AYLMERE. When I left Kent, A pallid fugitive, I took the name Of Aylmere. After years heard that name shouted A war-cry unto thousands ! But when I left the trade of blood, and sought The gentle fruits of science, I was graced With the mind's title of nobility. And known as Doctor Aylmere. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 47 LACY. Doctor Aylmere ! It passeth wonder ! But thy title here Must be plain Master Aylmere ; thou must doff The sages sables, and in russet masque, To 'scape the vigilant hate of Say. But thine, My son, has been a life of marvel. AYLMERE. Yes, Wild and vexed, father, as the mountain stream That leaps from peril on to peril, till It reach the valley. — Italy became My country, when my country cast me forth. I joined the arms of those who struck for freedom. And won, — for fortune's soldier seldom fails, — More than my hopes had spanned. Of this hereafter. But thou my father, had Betrothed my soul in boyhood, unto Science, And, in the 'larumed field, I thought of her, Doting on her divinity ; until. Weary of war, I sought again the cloister. LACY. You married. AYLMERE. In my stormiest hour, yon lady Left wealth and wooers nobler far, to share My wayward lot. With her and my brave boy — Yon parlous prattler, — and the minds of old. 48 Whose effluence, breaking through their shattered tortibs, Has lit the world again, — I passed my days. LACY. You were a dweller in a happy clime. AYLMERE. 'Tis free ; and want, fear, shame, are aliens there. In that blest land the tiller is a prince. No ruffian lord breaks Spring's fair promises ; And Summer's toils — for Freedom watches o'er them — Are safe and happy ; Summer lapses by, In its own music ; And pregnant Autumn, with a matron blush. Comes stately in, and with her, hand in hand, Labour, and lusty Plenty. Then old Winter, With his stout glee, his junkets, and a laugh That shakes from his hoar beard the icicles. Makes the year young again. There are no poor Where freedom is ; For nature's wealth is affluence for all, When high-born robbers seize it not. LACY. Yet was this Italy a land enslaved. AYLMERE. Once too, 'twas nobly free. That memory Has, from the ashes of a glorious past. Flashed its rekindled blaze into the gloom Where owl-like error and oppression clung. And scared the pestilent spirits forth. THE BONDMAN OP KENT. 49 To flap their foul wings in the face of day, AncT be a laughed-at terror. — She has now Sons that ne'er knew a fear, nor felt a shackle. Would England were as free ! C3 Most happy there ? LACY. Of course, you were AYLMERE. Alas ! 'twas not my country ! LACY. You thought then of us, wretched as we are ? AYLMERE. Of my pale mother ; and of thee, my father ; And of the glen, in whose o'erarching shade. Thou first unchained the eagle thoughts within me ; And of my brethren's wrongs, the herded bond, The tortured, toil-worn wretches of that land, Which is the only father left me ; — all Floated before mine eyes, dimming the day, And the still night peopling with whispering shadows. LACY. Now Heaven be praised, thy heart was true. AYLMERE. One night, Racked by these memories, methought a voice 50 AYLMERE, Summoned me from my couch. I rose — went forth. The sky seemed a dark gulf, where fiery spirits Sported ; for o'er the concave the quick lightning Quivered, but spoke not. In the breathless gloom, I sought the Coliseum, for I felt The spirits of a manlier age were forth ; And there against the mossy wall I leaned, And thought upon my country. Why was I Idle, and she in chains ? The storm now answered. It broke as heaven's high masonry were crumbling. The beetled walls nodded and frowned i' the glare ; And the wide vault, in one unpausing peal. Throbbed with the angry pulse of Deity ! LACY. Shrunk you not, 'mid these terrors ? AYLMERE. I felt I could amid the hurly laugh. And laughing, do such deeds as fireside fools Turn pale to think on. The heavens did speak like brothers to my soul, And not a peal that leapt along the vault But had an echo in my heart. — Nor spoke The clouds alone ; for o'er the tempest's din, I heard the genius of my country shriek Amid the ruins, calling on her son — On me ! I answered her in shouts, and knelt — Ev'n there in darkness, mid the falling ruins, Beneath the echoing thunder-trump — and swore, (The while my father's pale form, welted with THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 51 The death-prints of the scourge, stood by and smiled,) I swore to make the bondman free ! LACY. And here, I link my soul to thine, and dedicate The remnant of the days that Heaven hath spared. To make the bondman free I AYLMERE. I sailed for England. LACY. Unhappy England ! You beheld her lords Rolling in reckless revel, while her people Laboured beneath the lash, and mixed their blood With the grudged crust that fed them. They may sow, And Heaven give increase ; but 'tis not for them ! The earth is curst to them, until it opes To take their life-w^orn bodies in ! AYLMERE. Alas! Alas ! for England ! Her merry yeomen, and her sturdy serfs. That made red Agincourt immortal, now Are trod like worms into the earth. Each castle Is the home of insolent rapine ; and the bond Are made the prey of every wolfy lord Who wills their blood to lap. The peasant now 52 A Y L M E R E, Weds in grim silence ; kisses his first-born, With prayers that it may die ; and tills the glebe, Embittering it with tears. Almighty God ! Is this my England ? LACY. In our towns, I trust, You saw a happier people. AYLMERE. No, sir, no ! Cities are freedom's nurseries ; but stout London, With threescore thousand burghers, bows her down Before the hordes brought in by Say and Suffolk, In our Queen Margaret's train. I landed there, And wept for downfallen London. Well I might ! Gladness had faded from her darkened eye ; And festal plenty fled to kinder regions. Her happy voice was hushed, or only heard To shock the desolate silence with a shriek ! The wretch who walked her streets, trod as he feared A bolder step would rouse a sleeping earthquake. Murder was out at midday ; and oppression. Like an unsated bloodhound, followed up Her faint and feeble people. LACY. Lawless thus Our French Queen's soldiery ? Do not the commons Of London rise against them ? THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 53 AYLMERE. Walking past A group of these swilled butchers, I beheld A tottering mother, to whose sterile breast A famished infant faintly clung. She bent Before these ruffian soldiers, and besought, With anguished eloquence, a trifling alms. Her babe, — she said, — and kissed its clayey cheek, And clasped it closer to her milkless breast, — Was starving ! They replied with brutal jests, And when she bent her faded form, and held Her dying infant forth, with wild entreaty, They — yet God saw it all, and smote them not ! — They thrust their coward weapons in its form, And held it struggling on the lifted spear, Before her eyes, in murderous mockery ! She sunk, and — LACY. What didst thou ? AYLMERE. Ha ! what did I ? Why on the fiends, with lifted arms, I rushed. And — and — but, curses on me ! one escaped ! Too much of this, the past and lost ! The future Be our care now ; and for the iron wron2:s That pierce the gasping heart of our poor England, Father, be sure they can and shall be righted. 5* 54 AYLMERE, THE BONDMAN OP KENT. Still in mine ears doth ring that mother's shriek. If I avenge her not — but we will in, And counsel on the means. LACY. I wait upon thee. AYLMEEE. We'll do 't, and quickly. Freedom ne'er came too soon For wrongs like ours. IFxeunt. END OF ACT FIRST. ACT SECOND. SCENE FIRST. Widow Cade's cottage. Aylmere and Mariamne enter from different sides, dressed as rustics. AYLMERE. Tired of thy truantry ? What dost think now Of our green merry England ? MARIAMNE. The loveliest grove I found, — trellised with flowers, And 'neath its trembling shade, the brightest stream, Laughing and lapsing by, as did the hours. When first thou cam'st a wooing, ere we grew Sad of love's gentle troubles. AYLMERE. Thou must love, For that 'tis mine, my England. MARIAMNE. There I wandered. And thought I was again in Italy. Mind'st thou the day, when, by the Tiber's side. In the cool shade of a mossed ruin, we Sat, and thou told'st me of thy native land ? 56 A Y L M E E E, And how I won thee from thy heavy theme ? And how — go to ! to thee these are but trifles. AYLMERE. Not trifles, Mariamne. No ! Life's better joys spring up thus by the wayside ; And the world calls them trifles. 'Tis not so. Heaven is not prodigal, nor pours its joys In unregarded torrents upon man ; They fall, as fall the riches of the clouds Upon the parched earth, gently, drop by drop. Nothing is trifling that love consecrates. MARIAMNE. But thou wert happier in those happy days, And gentler too, my Aylmere. AYLMERE. Gentler, wife ! Gentler ! But it may be : and if 'tis so. Forgive my spleenful mood ; 'tis o' the times ; For stormy thoughts have from my bosom swept Each gentleness, like rose leaves, off, and left Nought but the bare and angry thorns ; but not, My cherished one, foi? thee. MARIAMNE. I meant not that. Forgive me. But, my husband, I must grieve, In truth, I must, to see thy peace thus shaded. For often, when thou pondere^t, do I mark THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 67 Awakened anger's pale insignia hung Upon thy knitted brow. AYLMERE. Well, well, what then ? Wrong has been stern, and why should right grow milky ? MARIAMNE. Alas ! alas ! my lord ! AYLMERE. Oppression's cloud Hath shadowed thus my brow, and sharp-heeled wrong So scotched my spirit, that I can no more Forbear its writhing. MARIAMNE. Mine own ! AYLMERE. Thine, girl ! thine ! No ! I am Say's — his bond ! Oh, for the time When I may doff this skulking masquerade, And be mine own and thine ! MARIAMNE. Nay, good my husband. Fly with me from this place and these wild projects ! We'll follow freedom wheresoe'er she bide, And make her refuge ours ! 58 A Y L M E R E, AYLMERE. Tins is my home, And sliall ere long be freedom's. But, my trembler, Ne'er heed, all will be well. MARIAMNE. In the Avild war. Thou and thy friends are kindling, thou wilt rush Into the hottest eddy of the fight. And sport with peril. AYLMEEE. Tush ! I would not, doubter. But if I did, methinks 'twould harm me not. Peril and I have met before ; so long We've known and loved each other, by this hand, I think he would not harm so old a comrade. A truce with this same folly. How dost like Thy russet mantua ? It becomes thee well. MARIAMNE. Trifle not with my fears. I am alone. Nor kith, nor country have I, hope nor stay. Save thee, my husband. Ponder not so wildly On these stern doings ! AYLMERE. Nay, a thousand wrongs Have rung their stern alarum o'er my soul ; And it is up, never to sleep again. Until those wrongs be righted. Listen, wife. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 59 MARIAMNE. I do, my lord, I do. AYLMERE. I cannot be The meek and gentle thing that thou wouldst have me. The wren is happy on its humble spray ; But the fierce eagle revels in the storm. Terror and tempest darken in his path ; He gambols mid the thunder ; mocks the bolt That flashes by his red, unshrinking eye. And, sternly-joyful, screams amid the din : Then shakes the torrent from his vigorous wing. And soars above the storm, and looks and laughs Down on its struggling terrors. Safety still Reward ignoble ease : — be mine the storm. MARIAMNE. The saints protect thee 1 'Twere delight to share A peaceful lot with thee ; but if fate wills The storm should gather o'er thee, — be it so. By thy dear side I'll think it sunshine, Aylmere ! AYLMERE. Like to thine own bright self ! And thou'lt be cheerful ? Can'st thou be happy, love, so humbly lodged ? MARIAMNE. Happy, an' I were safe from insult. 60 A Y L M E E E, AYLMEKE. Insult ! Wife, insult ! MARIAMNE. Scarce jou left us, ere a lord Approached, and spoke that your wife should not hear ; Deeming no doubt 'twas honour to a rustic. I fled ; when, Heaven be praised, the baron's summons Called him away, or he had followed me ! AYLMERE. More wrong ! more wrong ! was not the measure full ! Villain ! but — but — his garb ? his plume ? his crest ? MARIAMNE. I marked not that, but heard them call him Clifford. AYLMERE. Down in my heart, that name, down, down. Until I wash it in his blood ! MARIAMNE. Nay, Aylmere, Be not thus moved ; forget it, love ! AYLMERE. Forget it ! Oh, I'll forget it ! But no more ; I see The father Lacy comes ! speak not of this, THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 61 But fear not ! I'll be near to watch o'er thee. Now, gentlest, there ! {Embrace) away ! \^Exit Mariamne. [Enter Lacy. Aylmere is turned from him,) LACY. A goodly day toward, Aylmere ! All goes cheerly. Each heart is ripe to bursting with its wrongs. Our young cause wears a brow of promise. AYLMERE {turning to Lacy). Know you One CliiFord — a hound in the pack of Say ? LACY. Why, what of him ? AYLMERE. A villain ! But ne'er mind — Who is he ? And what doth he i' the barony, Beating about for game ? LACY. He is a courtier, But late from London, in the train of Say. But what is Clifford unto thee ? AYLMERE. Nought — nought. You say the bond are ripe ; how stand the yeomen ? 6 62 AYLMERE, LACY. Full Of moody discontents, resolved, and ready To flash forth at a spark. AYLMERE. And 'tis time, when Epicurean power pores o'er the heart. To find the tenderest spot for its fell knife. Knows the poor wretch a joy ? they find it out 1 A pride ? they crush it ! Doth he sweat to win Some comfort for his cot ? their curse falls on it ! Yearneth he o'er some holy sympathy For wife or child ? they tear the golden thread From out the rugged texture of his fate, And leave him desolate. — Doth Mowbray brook The ban upon his bridal ? LACY. He is high In wrath, — alas that we should sufier thus ! ■^^^ AYLMERE. 'Tis better, being slaves, that we should suffer. Men must be thus, by chains and scourges, roused — The stealthy wolf will sleep the long days out In his green fastness, motionless and dull ; But let the hunter's toils entrap and bind him. He'll gnaw his chained limbs from his reeking frame. And die in freedom. — Left unto their nature. Men make slaves of themselves ; and it is only THE BONDMAN OF KENT. When the red hand of force is at their throats, . Thej know what freedom is. ^ LACY. They know it now — Know it, as well as wrong and shame can teach it. Each hath a host of injuries to arm him. Courtnay hath left no cot without its wail. Nor here alone. All Kent is boiling over With its o'ermeasured wrongs ; and all demand Thee as their leader. AYLMEEE. They do know me not As Cade ? The time will come when I, as Cade, The bond, the fugitive, will claim my name, And wed it unto honour. But, good Lacy, Let none, not even the staunchest, know me now As aught but Aylmere — as the stranger yeoman — The champion of the bond. LACY. Fear not ; ten years In a far clime have worked such change in thee. Nor bond, nor yeomen see the stripling Cade In the grave Aylmere. AYLMERE. Have you fixed a place Of meeting, where swollen heart may speak to heart, And kindle into action ? 63 ^4 AYLMERE, LACY. The resolved Will meet at Worthy's cot. AYLMERE. 'Tis well, good father; Until which time, let us from cot to cot, And pour the fury of each single heart Into the general torrent. Tell them, father, That we cannot fail ! The right is with us, God is with the right, And victory with God ! [^Exeunt severally. SCENE SECOND. Widow Cade aiid Mariamne, with the Boy. WIDOW CADE. And so he won thee from thy sunny land ? MABIAMNE. Yes ! Aylmere panted for his native air ; His feet were weary of a foreign soil, And his ear ached to hear old England's breezes Rustling amid her oaks. 'Twere better far, He said, to mingle with his native soil, Than rust away a slumb'rous life in exile. WIDOW. Our prattler loves not England, for the people THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 65 Are here not merry as in Italy ; But pale and sad, and sing not when they toil. MARIAMNE. Alas ! my boy, this is thy father's grief ; But go, and aid thy grandam. \_Exeunt Widow Cade and Boy. Where is Aylmere ! Would he were here ! I grow of late sick-hearted, And tremble with a wild and shadowy fear Of — what I know not — when he is not by. {Enter Clifford.) Lord Clifford here ! My fears were winged from Heaven. Alas ! what shall I do ! CLIFFORD {adjusting his dress). Beshrew this doublet ! It is all awry. — Good morrow to your beauty ! Well met ! But why, my little lapwing, fled you When last I saw you ? MARIAMNE {with a rustic air). Saving your presence, sir, (Pray Heaven my language not betray my husband !) Wi' your leave. {Going.) CLIFFORD {intercepting her). Nay, you leave me not, my Daphne. There's not i' the manor maid so fair as thou — I've seen 'em all — and, by this light, I love thee. {She is silent.) 6* 66 What ! art not proud of a lord's love ! no word ? Why, wench, art sullen ? Is thy flax entangled ? What hap has rufiled thee ? Sweet girl, art dumb ? MARIAMNE. Let me away, sir. CLIFFORD. This is rare, I trow ! By your leave, girl, this is a fair, soft hand. Nay, be not froward. Be your lips as soft ? [Atteiyipting to kiss her.) MARIAMNE. Back, base lord ! Get thee gone ! Pass on thy way ! This humble door is marked, as were the cots Of God's crushed people ; and the curse of lust, Hath here no power. Pass on in thy base hunt ! Here thou'lt find pride even prouder than thine own, And scorn to which thy scorn is lowliness ! CLIFFORD. Have I been dreaming ! Cry you mercy, lady ! An' if thy garb belied thee 'tis no fault Of mine ; I chose it not. Forgive my rudeness ; But in all humbleness, whom speak I to ? MARIAMNE. A woman ! By that name entitled to Each true man's courtesy. Thy mother bore it. And scorning it, thou dost a wrong to her. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 67 CLIFFORD. If in thj cloud I thought thee bright, forgive me, That now, thou shin'st undimmed — I worship thee ; A saucy wooer, thou'lt love me not the less. {^Enter Aylmere, unseen — draivs his knife.) AYLMERE (aside). My dainty lord is here ! Pity to trouble His lordship at his pleasures ! MARIAMNE. I'll not hear thee. CLIFFORD. Now, by this fair hand (seizing it). Why dost struggle, love ? MARIAMNE. Monster ! thou durst not : off ! mine eyes alone Will with their lightnings blast thee, if thou lay'st An impious hand upon me. Aylmere ! CLIFFORD. Why, Thine eyes, I own, are bright; but I am not Frighted by lightning. Come, what hast to fear ? (Clifford struggling with Mariamne, loho shrieks. Aylmere rushes for- ward, seizes Clifford.) AYLMERE. Unmannered lord ! Tremble not, Mariamne ! I'm with thee, sweet ; and thou art safe, love, safe ! 68 {Turns to Clifford j^erceZy and laughs.) This is a noble death ! The bold Lord Clifford, Stabbed by a peasant, for no braver feat, Than toying with his wife ! Is 't not, my lord, A merry jest ? CLIFFORD. Thou wilt not slay me, fellow ? AYLMERE. Ay, marry will I ! And why should I not ? CLIFFORD. Thou durst not, carle. AYLMERE [raising his knife.) Durst not ! MARIAMNE. Nay, Aylmere, strike not ! Lay not the weight of blood upon my memory, Shed for mine honour ! AYLMERE. Wife ! Has he not flung A shame on thee and me ? And shall he live ? CLIFFORD. Strike, if it be your will. I did the wrong. And may, when tempted, do as much again. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 69 AYLMERE {raises his knife). Dost inock me ! MARIAMNE. Aylmere, an' thou lov'st me, hold I Be there no blood betwixt our loves, my husband, Or I will never sleep again, unscared By dreams of horror ! AYLMERE. Well ; be 't as you will. — Good Heaven, that such a worm, so abject, vile, Should eat into the root of royalty. And topple down whole centuries of empire ! I will not crush you, reptile, now : but mark me ! j Steel knows no heraldry, and stoutly urged, \ Visits the heart of a peer with no more grace Than it would pierce a peasant's. Have a care ! The eagle that would seize the poor man's lamb. Must dread the poor man's vengeance ; darts there are, Can reach you in your eyrie ; ay, and hands That will not grieve to hurl them. Get thee gone ! {Hurls him from him.) CLIFFORD. Sirrah, we're equal now — shame against shame. When we next meet, a new compt we will open. [Clifford exit. Aylmere sits moodily. MARIAMNE. Nay, do not press thy brow upon thy hand. 70 Heed not the reveller. Now that I am with thee, I care not for this wrong : the hound that bays The moon dims not her face, and such as he Can bring to innocence no shame. AYLMERE. No shame ! To be the sport of every goatish lordling, As thou wert shame's own minion — thou, mine own, My spotless one ! Now will this boaster go, And, o'er his cups, will tell his leering lords. How fair the dame he clasped — how sweet her lips — MARIAMNE. My lips are virgin — the wretch stained them not ! AYLMERE. May his hot bones rot in his cankered flesh ! And yet I slew him not ! MARIAMNE. Why shouldst thou stain thee With his licentious blood. It would but bring New wrongs on thee and me. AYLMERE. As 'tis thy pleasure, 'Tis well — very well ! But get thee in. MARIAMNE [going, lingers, returns). Thou'rt not in anger with me ? THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 71 AYLMERE. With thee, love ! Why was I ever ? {Embrace) Nay, girl, get thee in. [^Exit Mariamne. AYLMERE (solus). And yet I slew him not ! But — but, 'twill come ! It heaps my shame to heighten my revenge ; And I will feast it fully. Would 'twere here. Here now ! Oh, my arm aches, and every pulse Frets like a war-horse on the curb, to strike These bold man-haters down. 'Twill come, 'twill come ! And I will quench this fire in a revenge Deep as our suflferings, sweeping as their wrongs ! [Exit. SCENE THIRD. The Castle. Lord Say at a table. Courtnay w waiting. SAY. Sirrah, no more. Did I not say that thou Shouldst have the wench ? And yet methinks, it is But splenetic envy of this fire-brained Mowbray : Thou lovest her not. COURTNAY. My lord, I love not Mowbray ; He follows the crazed priest whom they call prophet- The mendicant Friar Lacy ; and is leagued 72 AYLMEKE, With the faction o' the commons — those who speak So scurvily of your lordship. SAY. Have your wish. I'd force this blacksmith knave give up his daughter, If but to teach him that he is my thrall, Even yeoman though he be. But how is this ? The barony holds another sturdy grumbler — They must be weeded out — the stranger, dwelling At th' house of Widow Cade. What call they him ? COURTNAY. Aylmere, so please you. 'Tis a bold, strange man ; And in his breeding loftier than a peasant. He hath great sway with the people. SAY. Well, sir, pray, Are there no serving-men to seize such rogues ? No vaults in our keep to hold them ? [Enter eLiFroRD.) Good den, cousin ! {To Courtnay.) Without ! {Exit Courtnmj.) Ay, get thee gone, thou truest hound, That power at weakness ere let slip. {To Clifford.) How now? Feather-witted coz, a wrinkle ! What's befallen ? Thy horse ? or hound ? or hawk ? CLIFFORD. A truce, my lord ! I'd have you know there is a devil unchained THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 73 In this your barony ; and there is brewing That which will raise such hurly round your ears As England ne'er yet knew. SAY. Speak you of Aylmere ? CLIFFORD. Of the same, my lord. SAY. Thou harp'st my fears ; but, Clifford, What knowest thou of him ? CLIFFORD. Know ! the knave, but now. Had his knife at my throat, and would have slain me But for his wife. He has that in him. Say, Will breed you griefs. The flash of such an eye. Broke never from a bondman's heart. Be sure He is not what he seems. And when I left him. He hurled a scornful menace after me That spoke of trouble. SAY. Yet, you'd have me pet And palter with these ruffians. We must crush them. A moody spirit doth possess the rout, And every wind is murmur laden. 7 ft 74 AYLMERE, CLIFFORD. True, And there is danger in it. Should not Aylmere Be first looked to ? SAY. 0' the instant. Ho ! who waits ! [Enter Courtnay.) Have Aylmere, ere an hour, within the castle. Take a sufficient force. COURTNAY. It shall be done. SAY. And, look ye, steward, that mangy hag. Cade's widow, Expel her from the cot, and burn it, burn it ! Let her beg, starve, or leave the barony ! For years my plague ! The wife of one sour slave, Who struck me and died for 't, and the mother Of a rough boy, who left a second shame Upon my person, and escaped the barony Ere my wrath reached him. Courtnay, leave it ashes ! COURTNAY. It is a task I have good stomach for. [^Exit Courtnay. SAY. Thus will I crush the mad and moody slaves ! They'd better bow, and line their chains with down, Than vainly struggling, dye them in their blood. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. CLIFFORD. Seize thou the husband — I will take the wife ; My yeoman stout — our new accompt is opened ! 76 lUxeunt. SCENE FOURTH. Worthy's cot. Worthy, Mowbray, Kate. KATE. Nay, Will, content thee. I will never wed The cringing steward. Women love no slaves, Except their own. MOWBRAY. Our tyrant Say hath sworn That if you wed not with his creature Courtnay, He'll— KATE. Tush ! I care not for him. Why should I ? These lords are no lords of a woman's will. My father, thou, and Aylmere, with the commons. Can shield me. MOWBRAY. Right, brave Kate ! why let them come ; We'll entertain 'em in the good old style, With the best edge of a stout yeoman's sword. 76 WORTHY. Threescore tall men have I, whom Courtnay's knaves Must hammer till they're cold as is my anvil, Ere he shall touch her. {A knocking. ) Ha ! it is the signal. KATE. Will, here is work that needs no woman's presence ; Stand to it, Will ; strike for the bond and me ! MOWBllAY. Will I not, my Kate ? -^Exit Kate. WORTHY. Ho ! whom hold you with ? i^From loithout.) With Kent and the true commons. WORTHY. {Oj)ens the door.) God be wi' you ! [Enter Lacy, Straw, Pembroke, Sutton, and others.) LACY. Blessings, my children, on your cause and you ! Pembroke, how fare your children ? PEMBROKE. As the lamp That dies for want of feeding ; they still flicker, But I can only say they live. THE BONDMAN OF KENT. 77 LACY {to Straw). How is it with your wife ? But ill, I fear me, From the cloud upon your brow. STKAW. No, well, father. LACY. Your wife is then — STRAW. Beyond the whip and chain ! She's in her grave. WORTHY. Dead ! dead ! LACY. Heaven rest her soul ! WORTHY. And crush the lords who curse and cumber England ! LACY. Heaven, son, hath sent a champion and deliverer Unto the poor. WORTHY.