Scene I
Interior of a Church--Davis, Bradshaw, and others.
Davis. The sword of the Lord and the sword of Gideon!
It was good To see the red--coats run before our multitude.
We broke them by sheer numbers--
Bradshaw. Say the Almighty's power.
Davis. Yes, and our bodily weight, in less than half an hour.
Oh! if the people knew the brute strength of their hands,
There would be no more kings propped up by tolerance,
No more of these mad soldiers. All night long they sat
Taking God's name in vain, a devil's syndicate,
Roaring and ranting out their music--hall lewd songs
In stark profanity. I heard them--their rank tongues
Hissing with imprecations, foul, libidinous,
Till the night stank.
Bradshaw. God's hand has been stretched out to us
Because we prayed.
Davis. 'Twas great. And Leicester at the nick
Appearing on their flank. The chief was choleric
To--day to a good purpose, and his rage struck home.
He came on like a madman.
Bradshaw. He was late to come--
Davis. But not too late. They say he escaped by miracle
From the arrest they planned him. The Queen's General
Had set his wife to trap him, but he knew their ways
And broke out of their hands in the fair lady's face.
And once on horseback! Ha! They dared not bar his road,
The chief is a great soldier.
Bradshaw. And a man of good?
Hum. There are some distrust him. His past life--
Davis. Is past.
To--day he is one with us; his lot with ours is cast,
A rebel and a martyr--what would you have more?
He has unsheathed his sword against the sovereign power,
He cannot now go back.
Bradshaw. In things political,
Perhaps. But of the spirit? Deeds are of light avail
When the man's wanton heart lives unregenerate.
Davis. We need him for a leader. Our cause trembles yet.
Bradshaw. In the Almighty's balance, not in Man's. (Ho, there!
You with the blunderbuss, keep the door fast.) 'Tis prayer
Not prowess wins the day, virtue not violence,
Or how should we have prospered?
Davis. God needs means for ends.
Leicester's his instrument. But hark--the shouts--the drums,
It sounds like victory. See--the conquering hero comes.
Scene II
Doors are thrown open. Enter Leicester and others. Paul and Phoebe in the background.
Davis. Is it over?
Leicester. For the moment they are driven back.
According to the tactics all young armies lack,
Having got them on the run we should have kept them there,
But without guns or cavalry we had no luck to spare,
And so may shout a bit though not clear of the wood.
Bradshaw. Thank God for a great victory.
Leicester. Ay, indeed, thank God.
(Aside.) It was a narrow shave, none more surprised than I
To see them trun their backs.
Bradshaw. The cause and liberty!
(They cheer.)
Davis. You are a great man, Leicester.
Leicester. Nonsense. It was luck.
War is but pitch and toss. I came in with the ruck,
Just as the battle turned and gave it a last shove.
Paul.
(advancing) With whose hand? Yours? Or whose? The little left--hand glove,
Your badge of victory, was in the front to--day,
With a new miracle.
Leicester. Sir!
Paul. So the vulgar say.
I did not myself see the angel with the sword,
The angel with the glove, commissioned of the Lord,
Yet all vow the glove did it. One more victory!
For the little white left hand! Shout, comrades, lustily
The little left--hand glove!
All. The Glove!
Paul. Ay, shout again,
The noise will do you good.
(Aside.) Such happy fools are men.
Look at it!
(Points at Leicester's cap.)
Bradshaw. Where?
Davis. 'Tis gone.
Bradshaw. The glove is lost.
Paul. Or strayed.
It has wandered gaily back to its fellow glove, mislaid.
Leicester. It is true the badge is gone. I dropped it in the press.
(To Paul.) Why, Sir, this insolence? Luck holds us none the less.
It shall forgive this loss, this lapse,--
Paul. With other sins.
Bradshaw. What does he mean?
Paul. You laugh.
Leicester. Sir, let him laugh who wins.
This boy is beyond bearing. To your sense as men
I turn me from this fooling.
Bradshaw. What is it, Paul?
Paul. Hear then,
Our leader talks of fooling. Which is the fool, think you,
The man that does and dares, that fights at the time due,
Or he that plays with harlots, till the hour is past?
Ay, or is played with by them, comes in at the last,
Just as the act is over and the stage scene drops,
To gather in the pence and share the lollipops?
The chief is a great soldier, but the game of war
Is not the only trick of his soul's repertoire.
Alas for the poor ladies--when he mows them down!
A wonderful fighting man! Heaven help the overthrown.
Leicester.
(advancing) Now by the Lord Almighty!
[Menaces Paul.
Davis.
(intervening). Paul, have done with this.
Time is and place for all things.
Paul. Ay, a time to kiss!
A time to toy and trifle! To make amorous strife
At a fair lady's knees, and she a neighbour's wife!
Oh glorious ideal for the Idealists!
Davis. Enough, good Paul. To--morrow--
[Others intervene. They struggle with Paul.
Paul..
Let them go, my wrists.
[Turning on Leicester. I charge him with the obscene!
[They drag him away.
Bradshaw. The obscene?
Paul.
(as they thrust him out) Adultery!
Leicester.
(aside) The boy knows nothing. Marian? No, it cannot be.
He fires at a mere venture.
(Aloud.) Gentlemen, I pray,
Relieve me of this trifling--for at least to--day.
I know of no such failure. 'Tis an ugly word.
I know of no such mistress, none, Sir, but my sword.
(Aside.) Marian must be protected.
(Aloud.) In my earlier time,
Who knows, I may have fooled it. Love was not a crime
In the company I kept. But here, among you all,
No, Sirs, upon my life, we keep no festival,
We none have time for folly. Comrades, once again,
Remember we are fighting. Let us act as men,
Not boys, till it is over. When we have grasped our fate
Then we may hound each other with our love and hate
To our best heart's content, but not this battle day.
Back, all men to the field!
All. Hurray! the chief! hurray!
[They hurry out
Scene III
Phoebe is left alone--she walks up and down for some instants in silence. Then passionately.
Phoebe. It moves me still to hear him. Was it a dream I saw,
A dream, or an enchantment, a mysterious flaw
In my eyes' judgment? What? Paul, who saw nothing, swears
All that I saw and more. Her lover, he declares,
She his once paramour, his fast confederate still.
What is the truth? Ah, God! We see but what we will.
We think but what we choose. We have no certain guide
But our own heart's desire at death--grips with our pride.
Paul always hated him. I loved him as a flower
Loves the white sunlight, ay as a wave of the sea the power
Of the storm shaking it, as a child's voice loves the sound
Of its own echo shouted from the hills around,--
As something loftier, mightier than itself, divine
And far beyond these arms to reach to or entwine,
Far, far beyond these tears. And yet I saw him, how?
He held her in his arms. Their lips touched--yes--I vow
He kissed her on her lips--a woman not his own,
One plighted to another--and she did not frown,
Nor chide, nor strike. She was pleased--ay, pleased--she smiled at him,
And he at her. I have seen a soul lost, one of the Seraphim
Cast out into the darkness, a crime done to law,
A sacrament profaned! All this with my eyes I saw.
And yet, yet. Paul denounced him, he did well, but I,
I could not move my lips. I felt it treachery.
He would have scorned me had I spoken--he would have said
It was a girl's foolish jealousy had turned my head.
What to him are our laws, our thoughts, our consciences?
Even now I dare not grieve him or take part with these.
I could not be a witness. Yet the faith? the cause?
I am in doubt of all things, of all faiths, all laws,
All duties, even of pain. I know not how to act,
Seeing the world thus shortened of the love it lacked,
Of virtue, truth, obedience. I must await some sign.
A flash of light may come, a wisdom more than mine.
God may inspire my hand if he leaves blind my heart.
[A sound of cannon is heard and of fighting approaching nearer.
Phoebe.
(looking out into the street) They are fighting by the Court House and the Cattle Mart.
The dragoons have turned on them. They are charging up the street.
They are riding down our people, every one they meet,
Men, women, children, all. There must be many dead.
The crowd waves like a field cut down and harvested.
Ah God! If we should fail--if we indeed should fail!
If this should end it all! Our faith of no avail!
Our life's design a dream! And we deserve it. See
What sins we have sinned through weakness, through inconstancy.
Complicity in wrong! And he, where is he? There!
That was a cannon shot. The shell burst in the air
Above their heads. They fly from it! Our people fly!
What am I doing here? They are on us! Let me die!
Oh, let me die with them!
[She rushes to the door, but it is burst open in her face, and a crowd of fugitives pours in, with whom Davis and Bradshaw. Phoebe is thrust aside and sinks on the ground by the door, where she remains crouched.
Scene IV
Bradshaw. All's lost. All's lost.
Davis. How? What?
Is it true we are betrayed? I warned you of the plot.
The chief is where?
Bradshaw. He's taken. It was an ambuscade
The reds had laid for him in the new esplanade.
They made a feint of flying, and he followed on
And fell into their trap--
Davis. Like any tailor's son.
I told you he was a traitor. We have been bought and sold.
Paul said it. Where is Paul?
Bradshaw. Where we shall be--enrolled
In Heaven among the saints. His last word as he fell
Was ``Fight on for the Ideal, and the reds to Hell!''
He had his eye on Leicester. He was close behind him,
And when the chief surrendered. Bah! It seemed to blind him.
The blood rushed to his eyes. They shouted, ``Hands up, boy,''
But he only laughed at them with a new furious joy
And ran upon their swords. And so they ran him through.
Davis. The boy was a good hater.
A voice. And a comrade true.
If all had been like him!
Bradshaw. A curse is on our state
Because we gave our trust to one a reprobate,
In whom we all have sinned.
A voice. Let us repent and pray!
[They put themselves in an attitude of prayer, the doors are again thrown open and enter Sergeant Mullens and Corporal Carver with a detachment of soldiers, and Leicester as their prisoner.
Scene V
Mullens. Surrender, every man! Here, Corporal, clear the way,
Take all the rogues in charge; this is the rebel lot
And these the ringleaders, and give them something hot.
They want a bit of schooling. Use the butt, men. There!
You have left them sensible with half their wits to spare.
[The soldiers club their muskets and cudgel the crowd
It is a good rule always in affairs like these
To give a drubbing first. Then you may stand at ease
And wait for the Court's verdict with a tranquil mind.
The prisoner goes acquitted, but he's sore behind.
Round them up, Carver, so, under the pulpit screen.
Carver.
(putting a guard over them) Lie still, ye happy scoundrels, prisoners of the Queen!
We'll teach ye to rebel.
Mullens. That is enough. They'll sit
As quiet now as mice, while we take stock a bit.
(To Leicester deferentially.) You, General, take a seat kindly in this front pew;
It will save me setting a guard to have you here in view,
And you are not like these. You will excuse my tongue
For its rough edge.
(To his men.) Come, boys--I'm thirsty as a bung.
It's been a thirsty morning, thirsty work all round,
Who'll show us to a drink? You, prisoners, I'll be bound,
Know where the publics are. If there's a house near by,
In God's name, name it us.
Bradshaw. Silence. Make no reply.
Davis. They have got us by the neck -- it's time to temporise.
Mullens. What? None of you know nothing?
One of the Prisoners. There's the ``Compasses''
At the next corner, Sir, and the ``Imperial Crown,''
And the old ``Fighting Cocks,'' the best name in the town,
They're all within a stone's throw.
Another Prisoner. Give us leave a minute.
We'll show you the way gaily.
Mullens. There's no money in it,
You understand, young man. We're on the loot this turn.
Prisoner. Money or not, they'll serve you.
Mullens. That they'll have to learn.
(To the soldiers.) Come, Joyce and Parsons, you run out with this good chap
And bring a can back handy from the nearest tap.
I've got a thirst that kills me.
Leicester. You're a cheerful fellow,
And should receive promotion. Here's a bit of yellow
To make the matter sure. I'll stand you all your stuff.
Mullens. General, we thank you kindly.
(To Joyce and Prisoner.) Off! and bring enough.
(To Leicester.) I like these ways in war, ``My friend the enemy,'' That's a good motto, Sir, or where would soldiers be?
You were out of luck to--day. But you are a hero, Sir,
You must serve the Queen again, and cut the bushranger.
Leicester.
(aside) The fellow strikes me hard, but I must humour him.
(Aloud.) I seem to knw you, Sergeant, though my memory's dim,
We've served together somewhere. Where was it? Your face
Is quite familiar to me.
Mullens. Sir John Leicester. Yes,
You honour me by naming and remembering it.
If I might make so bold, and it was not indiscreet,
I should say we have been comrades, served under the same flag.
Leicester. Which?
Mullens. Sir, the noblest known, though it's not for me to brag,
We have fought in company, and won together, won
In the only cause worth winning. Yes, indeed, Sir John,
I am proud to think of it. Love is a leveller.
Leicester. You mystify me fairly.
Mullens. How shall I tell you, Sir?
You have heard the name Rosina?
Leicester.
(aside) What does the coxcomb mean?
(Aloud.) Rosina?
Mullens. Yes, Rosina. Her Majesty the Queen
Has her fair maids--in--waiting, and all ladies have.
Service is no reproach. You, General, are brave,
And ladies love the brave, and maids are as they are,
And women are--just women. So they are young and fair
And not too whimsical, they make our happiness.
Oh, we have served together--
Leicester. God! Has it come to this?
Rosina! Marian's maid! It would be too laughable
In any strait less dire. The insolent dog!
(Aloud.) Well, well!
You shall drink the lady's health.
(Re--enter Joyce and the rest with a quarter cask.)
Mullens. Here comes the liquor, boys.
Three cheers for Sir John Leicester. Shout! Don't spare the noise!
(They pour out and drink. Enter Marian and Rosina.) And three cheers for the ladies.
[They shout
Scene VI
Lady Marian.
(aside to Leicester) Thank God, you are here.
Rosina. And Sergeant Mullens too--as senior Officer.
Lady Marian.
(advancing to Mullens). You are in charge here, Sergeant? This is a happy chance.
Mullens. My lady--and Rosina!
(Saluting.) Ladies, at your commands.
(To Marian.) My Lady Bellingham, your servant.
Lady Marian. We have come
Straight from Headquarters, Sergeant. General Bellingham
Has sent us with a message. All the fighting line
Is ordered to fall back, whether outside or in
The precincts of the town, and they are stopping fire
Already in the streets--this by the Queen's desire,
Resistance being at an end. My special message was,
To the first Officer I should chance to come across,
To order in all prisoners taken instantly
To the General at Headquarters. He desires to see
The rebel chief at once. You have with you a few
It seems of the most important. I make my bow to you,
Sergeant, on your good luck. I will see to it you get
Your brevet for this capture. Who knows?--an epaulet,
Or even the V.C.
Mullens. My Lady. I am yours,
Entirely to command.
Lady Marian. One of your prisoners
I would have a word with, Sergeant, while you rank the rest.
I will take a seat here. See--Rosina is distressed
That you have not noticed her. Five minutes and we start.
Rosina, go with him. The girl has got a heart,
Sergeant, and loves you. There--she was frightened in the street
And wants some comforting. Be her good paraclete,
Give her a kind word. Say you love her--she will believe it--
Then make your men fall in. I won't forget the brevet.
Scene VII
Mullens crosses the stage with Rosina, who drinks a glass with him, and they talk together while the soldiers leisurely put the prisoners in line, Marian sits down by Leicester.
Lady Marian. I have come to save your life--thank God, you are alive--
And take you from their hands. Be prudent, and forgive,
If I have dared too much. A price is on your head,
Yours only, all the others being amnestied
By the Queen's clemency. My husband means you harm.
You must not come before him while his blood is warm
And you his prisoner. Listen--I have a plan,
Set with my maid Rosina, whose lover is this man
The sergeant of your guard. She will have him occupied
When the moment comes for action. Keep close to my side
As we march out with them, and when we reach the street
Mount in my carriage with me, quick. We must brazen it
As part of my lord's orders they must all obey.
They will not dare to stop us. Once we are clear away,
The game is in our hands. My name will pass us through.
Leicester.
(hesitating) You are an angel, Marian, what can I say to you?
How thank you? How make clear?
Lady Marian. You seem to hesitate.
Look at those men
(pointing to the soldiers drinking). What hinders?
Leicester. Nothing, but my fate.
I shall die happy, Marian, but I cannot fly.
My hour of fate has sounded.
Lady Marian. Die? You shall not die,
You shall live to make me happy.
Leicester. My duty lies with these
(pointing to the prisoners).
Lady Marian. And mine with Bellingham, O man of subtleties!
Yet I am here for what? To save you from his hands.
These foolish souls are safe. Their manifest madness stands
Between them and the law which asks no punishment
More than their folly finds them. The Queen's grace was sent
An hour ago to all. And you? You would die forlorn,
The only unbeliever, for a creed you scorn?
What sense is there, what wit?
Leicester. The wit of one that is
Weary of all things less than full realities,
Weary of only seeming in a world of dreams.
You gave me once a hope. Where did it lead? To schemes
That never had an issue, impotent desires
That burst into no flame and lit no kindred fires
And left me what I am, a wifeless, childless man
Depraved by his own virtue, a new d'Artagnan
Without the Gascon faith in his unchastity.
My fame has been false glory, my romance a lie,
My world's career a sham. To--day I am face to face
At last with a hard fact--defeat, disdain, disgrace,
The loud voice of the world dealing a traitor's death.
Why should I shrink from it more than the victor's wreath,
It set upon my brows? I stand where all in turn
Are forced, to honest dealing and the wage they earn.
Death has its own heroics, real, sublimely real.
I will not be dissuaded. 'Tis my last ideal.
Lady Marian. Not even by my love, my whole and utter love?
Leicester. Perhaps not even by that. You gave me once your glove,
Give it me back, sweetheart! My fortune has gone out.
Lady Marian. It is here and it shall save you.
(She takes it from her bosom and places it in his hat.) Why should you now doubt
Your star which led to glory, and with me your friend
Henceforward at your side to point to each high end,
And aid you to achieve it. We have much to win
Together in the world of more worth than the sin
Of our great happiness--a fact which yet shall be.
Follow me quick. It is yours.
[She gives him her left hand which he lays upon his heart. He holds back, but she draws him towards her kissing his hands, and he gradually yields.
Leicester. This is reality.
Lead on.
[She leads him towards the door, and the soldiers form up behind them with the prisoners; but as they reach it Phoebe rises and intercepts them. A pistol shot is heard, and Leicester falls as the curtain drops.
Curtain.
