As if her nice feet scorned our English earth.
The Canaanitish Jezebel! I would be
A dog if I might tear her with my teeth! 70
There’s old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke,
Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry,
And others who make base their English breed
By vile participation of their honours
With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates. 75
When lawyers masque ‘tis time for honest men
To strip the vizor from their purposes.
A seasonable time for masquers this!
When Englishmen and Protestants should sit
dust on their dishonoured heads 80
To avert the wrath of Him whose scourge is felt
For the great sins which have drawn down from Heaven
and foreign overthrow.
The remnant of the martyred saints in Rochefort
Have been abandoned by their faithless allies 85
To that idolatrous and adulterous torturer
Lewis of France, — the Palatinate is lost —
[ENTER LEIGHTON (WHO HAS BEEN BRANDED IN THE FACE) AND BASTWICK.]
Canst thou be — art thou?
LEIGHTON:
I WAS Leighton: what
I AM thou seest. And yet turn thine eyes,
And with thy memory look on thy friend’s mind, 90
Which is unchanged, and where is written deep
The sentence of my judge.
THIRD CITIZEN:
Are these the marks with which
Laud thinks to improve the image of his Maker
Stamped on the face of man? Curses upon him,
The impious tyrant!
SECOND CITIZEN:
It is said besides 95
That lewd and papist drunkards may profane
The Sabbath with their
And has permitted that most heathenish custom
Of dancing round a pole dressed up with wreaths
On May-day. 100
A man who thus twice crucifies his God
May well … his brother. — In my mind, friend,
The root of all this ill is prelacy.
I would cut up the root.
THIRD CITIZEN:
And by what means?
SECOND CITIZEN:
Smiting each Bishop under the fifth rib. 105
THIRD CITIZEN:
You seem to know the vulnerable place
Of these same crocodiles.
SECOND CITIZEN:
I learnt it in
Egyptian bondage, sir. Your worm of Nile
Betrays not with its flattering tears like they;
For, when they cannot kill, they whine and weep. 110
Nor is it half so greedy of men’s bodies
As they of soul and all; nor does it wallow
In slime as they in simony and lies
And close lusts of the flesh.
A MARSHALSMAN:
Give place, give place!
You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate, 115
And then attend the Marshal of the Masque
Into the Royal presence.
A LAW STUDENT:
What thinkest thou
Of this quaint show of ours, my aged friend?
Even now we see the redness of the torches
Inflame the night to the eastward, and the clarions 120
[Gasp?] to us on the wind’s wave. It comes!
And their sounds, floating hither round the pageant,
Rouse up the astonished air.
FIRST CITIZEN:
I will not think but that our country’s wounds
May yet be healed. The king is just and gracious, 125
Though wicked counsels now pervert his will:
These once cast off —
SECOND CITIZEN:
As adders cast their skins
And keep their venom, so kings often change;
Councils and counsellors hang on one another,
Hiding the loathsome 130
Like the base patchwork of a leper’s rags.
THE YOUTH:
Oh, still those dissonant thoughts! — List how the music
Grows on the enchanted air! And see, the torches
Restlessly flashing, and the crowd divided
Like waves before an admiral’s prow!
A MARSHALSMAN:
Give place 135
To the Marshal of the Masque!
A PURSUIVANT:
Room for the King!
THE YOUTH:
How glorious! See those thronging chariots
Rolling, like painted clouds before the wind,
Behind their solemn steeds: how some are shaped
Like curved sea-shells dyed by the azure depths 140
Of Indian seas; some like the new-born moon;
And some like cars in which the Romans climbed
(Canopied by Victory’s eagle-wings outspread)
The Capitolian — See how gloriously
The mettled horses in the torchlight stir 145
Their gallant riders, while they check their pride,
Like shapes of some diviner element
Than English air, and beings nobler than
The envious and admiring multitude.
138-40 Rolling…depths 1870;
Rolling like painted clouds before the wind
Some are
Like curved shells, dyed by the azure depths 1824.
SECOND CITIZEN:
Ay, there they are — 150
Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees,
Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm,
On whose lean sheep sit the prophetic crows,
Here is the pomp that strips the houseless orphan,
Here is the pride that breaks the desolate heart. 155
These are the lilies glorious as Solomon,
Who toil not, neither do they spin, — unless
It be the webs they catch poor rogues withal.
Here is the surfeit which to them who earn
The niggard wages of the earth, scarce leaves 160
The tithe that will support them till they crawl
Back to her cold hard bosom. Here is health
Followed by grim disease, glory by shame,
Waste by lame famine, wealth by squalid want,
And England’s sin by England’s punishment. 165
And, as the effect pursues the cause foregone,
Lo, giving substance to my words, behold
At once the sign and the thing signified —
A troop of cripples, beggars, and lean outcasts,
Horsed upon stumbling jades, carted with dung, 170
Dragged for a day from cellars and low cabins
And rotten hiding-holes, to point the moral
Of this presentment, and bring up the rear
Of painted pomp with misery!
THE YOUTH:
‘Tis but
The anti-masque, and serves as discords do 175
In sweetest music. Who would love May flowers
If they succeeded not to Winter’s flaw;
Or day unchanged by night; or joy itself
Without the touch of sorrow?
SECOND CITIZEN:
I and thou-
A MARSHALSMAN:
Place, give place! 180
SCENE 2
A CHAMBER IN WHITEHALL. ENTER THE KING, QUEEN, LAUD, LORD STRAFTORD, LORD COTTINGTON, AND OTHER LORDS; ARCHY; ALSO ST. JOHN, WITH SOME GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT.
KING:
Thanks, gentlemen. I heartily accept
This token of your service: your gay masque
Was performed gallantly. And it shows well
When subjects twine such flowers of [observance?]
With the sharp thorns that deck the English crown. 5
A gentle heart enjoys what it confers,
Even as it suffers that which it inflicts,
&
nbsp; Though Justice guides the stroke.
Accept my hearty thanks.
QUEEN:
And gentlemen,
Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageant 10
Rose on me like the figures of past years,
Treading their still path back to infancy,
More beautiful and mild as they draw nearer
The quiet cradle. I could have almost wept
To think I was in Paris, where these shows 15
Are well devised — such as I was ere yet
My young heart shared a portion of the burthen,
The careful weight, of this great monarchy.
There, gentlemen, between the sovereign’s pleasure
And that which it regards, no clamour lifts 20
Its proud interposition.
In Paris ribald censurers dare not move
Their poisonous tongues against these sinless sports;
And HIS smile
Warms those who bask in it, as ours would do 25
If … Take my heart’s thanks: add them, gentlemen,
To those good words which, were he King of France,
My royal lord would turn to golden deeds.
ST. JOHN:
Madam, the love of Englishmen can make
The lightest favour of their lawful king 30
Outweigh a despot’s. — We humbly take our leaves,
Enriched by smiles which France can never buy.
[EXEUNT ST. JOHN AND THE GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT.]
KING:
My Lord Archbishop,
Mark you what spirit sits in St. John’s eyes?
Methinks it is too saucy for this presence. 35
ARCHY: Yes, pray your Grace look: for, like an unsophisticated [eye] sees everything upside down, you who are wise will discern the shadow of an idiot in lawn sleeves and a rochet setting springes to catch woodcocks in haymaking time. Poor Archy, whose owl-eyes are tempered to the error of his age, and because he is a fool, and by special ordinance of God forbidden ever to see himself as he is, sees now in that deep eye a blindfold devil sitting on the ball, and weighing words out between king and subjects. One scale is full of promises, and the other full of protestations: and then another devil creeps behind the first out of the dark windings [of a] pregnant lawyer’s brain, and takes the bandage from the other’s eyes, and throws a sword into the left-hand scale, for all the world like my Lord Essex’s there. 48
STRAFFORD:
A rod in pickle for the Fool’s back!
ARCHY:
Ay, and some are now smiling whose tears will make the brine; for the
Fool sees —
STRAFFORD: Insolent! You shall have your coat turned and be whipped out of the palace for this. 53
ARCHY: When all the fools are whipped, and all the Protestant writers, while the knaves are whipping the fools ever since a thief was set to catch a thief. If all turncoats were whipped out of palaces, poor Archy would be disgraced in good company. Let the knaves whip the fools, and all the fools laugh at it. [Let the] wise and godly slit each other’s noses and ears (having no need of any sense of discernment in their craft); and the knaves, to marshal them, join in a procession to Bedlam, to entreat the madmen to omit their sublime Platonic contemplations, and manage the state of England. Let all the honest men who lie [pinched?] up at the prisons or the pillories, in custody of the pursuivants of the High-Commission Court, marshal them. 65
[ENTER SECRETARY LYTTELTON, WITH PAPERS.]
KING [LOOKING OVER THE PAPERS]:
These stiff Scots
His Grace of Canterbury must take order
To force under the Church’s yoke. — You, Wentworth,
Shall be myself in Ireland, and shall add
Your wisdom, gentleness, and energy, 70
To what in me were wanting. — My Lord Weston,
Look that those merchants draw not without loss
Their bullion from the Tower; and, on the payment
Of shipmoney, take fullest compensation
For violation of our royal forests, 75
Whose limits, from neglect, have been o’ergrown
With cottages and cornfields. The uttermost
Farthing exact from those who claim exemption
From knighthood: that which once was a reward
Shall thus be made a punishment, that subjects 80
May know how majesty can wear at will
The rugged mood. — My Lord of Coventry,
Lay my command upon the Courts below
That bail be not accepted for the prisoners
Under the warrant of the Star Chamber. 85
The people shall not find the stubbornness
Of Parliament a cheap or easy method
Of dealing with their rightful sovereign:
And doubt not this, my Lord of Coventry,
We will find time and place for fit rebuke. — 90
My Lord of Canterbury.
ARCHY:
The fool is here.
LAUD:
I crave permission of your Majesty
To order that this insolent fellow be
Chastised: he mocks the sacred character,
Scoffs at the state, and —
KING:
What, my Archy? 95
He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears,
Yet with a quaint and graceful licence — Prithee
For this once do not as Prynne would, were he
Primate of England. With your Grace’s leave,
He lives in his own world; and, like a parrot 100
Hung in his gilded prison from the window
Of a queen’s bower over the public way,
Blasphemes with a bird’s mind: — his words, like arrows
Which know no aim beyond the archer’s wit,
Strike sometimes what eludes philosophy. — 105
[TO ARCHY.]
Go, sirrah, and repent of your offence
Ten minutes in the rain; be it your penance
To bring news how the world goes there.
[EXIT ARCHY.]
Poor Archy!
He weaves about himself a world of mirth
Out of the wreck of ours. 110
NOTES: 99 With your Grace’s leave 1870; omitted 1824. 106-110 Go…ours spoken by THE QUEEN, 1824.
LAUD:
I take with patience, as my Master did,
All scoffs permitted from above.
KING:
My lord,
Pray overlook these papers. Archy’s words
Had wings, but these have talons.
QUEEN:
And the lion
That wears them must be tamed. My dearest lord, 115
I see the new-born courage in your eye
Armed to strike dead the Spirit of the Time,
Which spurs to rage the many-headed beast.
Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve,
And it were better thou hadst still remained 120
The slave of thine own slaves, who tear like curs
The fugitive, and flee from the pursuer;
And Opportunity, that empty wolf,
Flies at his throat who falls. Subdue thy actions
Even to the disposition of thy purpose, 125
And be that tempered as the Ebro’s steel;
And banish weak-eyed Mercy to the weak,
Whence she will greet thee with a gift of peace
And not betray thee with a traitor’s kiss,
As when she keeps the company of rebels, 130
Who think that she is Fear. This do, lest we
Should fall as from a glorious pinnacle
In a bright dream, and wake as from a dream
Out of our worshipped state.
KING:
Beloved friend,
God is my witness that this weight of power, 135
Which He sets me my earthly task to wield
Under His law, is my delight and pride
&
nbsp; Only because thou lovest that and me.
For a king bears the office of a God
To all the under world; and to his God 140
Alone he must deliver up his trust,
Unshorn of its permitted attributes.
[It seems] now as the baser elements
Had mutinied against the golden sun
That kindles them to harmony, and quells 145
Their self-destroying rapine. The wild million
Strike at the eye that guides them; like as humours
Of the distempered body that conspire
Against the spirit of life throned in the heart, —
And thus become the prey of one another, 150
And last of death —
STRAFFORD:
That which would be ambition in a subject
Is duty in a sovereign; for on him,
As on a keystone, hangs the arch of life,
Whose safety is its strength. Degree and form, 155
And all that makes the age of reasoning man
More memorable than a beast’s, depend on this —
That Right should fence itself inviolably
With Power; in which respect the state of England
From usurpation by the insolent commons 160
Cries for reform.
Get treason, and spare treasure. Fee with coin
The loudest murmurers; feed with jealousies
Opposing factions, — be thyself of none;
And borrow gold of many, for those who lend 165
Will serve thee till thou payest them; and thus
Keep the fierce spirit of the hour at bay,
Till time, and its coming generations
Of nights and days unborn, bring some one chance,
…
Or war or pestilence or Nature’s self, — 170
By some distemperature or terrible sign,
Be as an arbiter betwixt themselves.
Nor let your Majesty
Doubt here the peril of the unseen event.
How did your brother Kings, coheritors 175
In your high interest in the subject earth,
Rise past such troubles to that height of power
Where now they sit, and awfully serene
Smile on the trembling world? Such popular storms
Philip the Second of Spain, this Lewis of France, 180
And late the German head of many bodies,
And every petty lord of Italy,
Quelled or by arts or arms. Is England poorer
Or feebler? or art thou who wield’st her power
Tamer than they? or shall this island be — 185
[Girdled] by its inviolable waters —
To the world present and the world to come
Sole pattern of extinguished monarchy?
Not if thou dost as I would have thee do.
KING:
Your words shall be my deeds: 190
You speak the image of my thought. My friend
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 124