Poetical Works of ROBERT BRIDGES

Volume V

London Smith, Elder & Co. 15 Waterloo Place 1902

OXFORD: HORACE HART PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BRIDGES

VOLUME THE FIFTH CONTAINING

[Pg 4]

LIST OF PREVIOUS EDITIONS

CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES.

1. THE CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES. A Tragedy in Five Acts in a mixed manner. Published by Ewd. Bumpus. Holborn Bars. London, 1890. 4to. pp. 101-116.

HUMOURS OF THE COURT

1. THE HUMOURS OF THE COURT. A Comedy in Three Acts. Published by Geo. Bell & Sons and J. and E. Bumpus, Lim. London. 4to. pp. 147-181 [1893].

[Pg 5]

THE CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES

A TRAGEDY IN A MIXED MANNER

[Pg 6]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

CHORUS OF CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES.

Soldiers, Guards, and Messengers.

The scene is in the garden of a castle of the King of Fez, by the sea.

[Pg 7]

CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES

ACT · I

[Pg 28]

ACT · II

[Pg 56]

ACT · III

[Pg 90]

ACT · IV

[Pg 113]

ACT · V

[The shouting and firing are grown quite near, and some figures are seen through the trees scaling the wall from without.

[Pg 130] [Pg 131]

THE HUMOURS OF THE COURT

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

[Pg 132]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Scene at Belflor, the residence of Diana.

Duration of time, three days: one to each Act.

[Pg 133]

HUMOURS OF THE COURT

ACT · I

Terrace before the Palace in the gardens of Belflor. Chairs set out. FREDERICK and RICARDO. TRISTRAM stands at a little distance, edging up to overhear.

Enter Diana, Laura, Gregory, and St. Nicholas; with attendant musicians and singers, who go out when the music is done.

D. (reading to audience). The bearer, my servant Ricardo, having hurt his challenger in a duel, I beg for him a few days’protection in your court, till some consequent rancour be appeased. Let my long silence and absence win for me this little grace.

F. (reading, away from T.). Dearest; all is lost. They mistake my hesitation for consent. My father has fixed the marriage for three days hence. I dared not say the truth. I know not what I said. My senses left me....

F. (reading as before). But be sure I never consented. If there is no other escape, I must fly. Come to-night to the garden. I will be at my window at eleven 410 o’clock.

T. My master’s mad. If this is court life, I shall soon curse my birthday, like dutiful Job. ’Tis a madhouse. If there were any sense in anything that’s said or done, I’d swear my life that the Countess was in love with my master, and he might have her for the asking. Yet who can tell what she means, when every one plays at being in love with somebody? ’Tis a fashion with them as catching as the measles. My constitution holds out, thank heaven. (Sings.)

And there’s a good light step to that tune, which Ip[Pg 156] pthink I can do as well as any I have seen. (Dances and sings.)

Re-enter Flora, who watches him awhile and then laughs aloud.

Fl. Ha! ha! Well fancy, Tristram! dancing all alone!

T. Lack of company constrains a man to be alone; and as for dancing, ’tis the original sin Adam was born with. ’Twas seeing him dance alone provoked providence to send him a partner. ’Tis now the inheritance of lambs and such innocents: and wert thou not too depraved by a court life, I would ask thee to dance with me.

Fl. I depraved! I will dance with you.

T. Canst thou?

Fl. Ha! ha! About and about, fa, la! (Dancing.)

(They dance to each other and then together; in and out among the chairs.)

O softly, Tristram, softly; I am out of breath.

T. You are not so depraved as I thought. Here’s the coin I pay in. (Kissing her.)

Fl. I don’t like you, Tristram. You take more liberties in a day than others would in a month. [Pg 157]

T. Ah! ah! Oh wala! wala! (Puts his finger to his head.)

Fl. What is it? Are you giddy?

T. No, no. My constitution—my system.

Fl. What?

T. I’m going mad like the rest of them. I’ve caught it too.

Fl. Don’t talk so; to frighten me, Tristram, like that. What do you mean?

T. Well, we shall make a better pair than two I know.

Fl. I never promised. And what would my lady say? And—oh! I forgot: she sent me to fetch you.

T. My lady?—me?

Fl. Yes, you.

T. She sent for me?

Fl. No sooner was she come in the house, than as she sat looking on the silks, one of her fits took her, and I thought she would faint: when suddenly she got up, and bade me go out and seek for you. See, here she comes.

T. What can she need with me? (Aside.) If she has got wind of me and Flora, it’s all up.

Re-enter Diana.

D. (to Fl.). I see you have found him, Flora.

Fl. We were coming, my lady, as fast as we could. [Pg 158]

D. Leave us alone. [Exit Flora. Good Tristram; will you serve me?

T. Certainly, my lady. My lady has only to command.

D. But in a matter where your duty might seem opposed to my interest.

T. ’Tis impossible, my lady, that my duties could be opposed to my lady’s.

D. I think, Tristram, that you know a secret which concerns me.

T. I assure your ladyship, upon my oath....

D. Stay now. Take this purse....

T. I thank your ladyship.

D. To convince you of my goodwill. Now I have a suspicion: and whether or no you help me to come at the truth, I shall learn it. I will not have secrets kept from me in my court.

T. Certainly not, my lady. But I pray your ladyship to speak plainly, for I am a simple man; and if I am to assist your ladyship, I must understand your 502 ladyship.

D. You are a very sensible servant, Tristram. Tell me then, do you not know of some one in the court, who carries on a love-affair behind my back?

T. (aside). It’s me.—No, my lady: I do not. It is impossible that any one should do such a thing. [Pg 159]

D. Is not your master in love?

T. Oh!... my master? Certainly; not a doubt of it.

D. So I thought. Now you must tell me, good Tristram, with whom he is in love.

T. If that’s the question, my lady, you may take back the purse again. Take it; I thought it was not like my luck.

D. You will not tell?

T. I cannot tell what I do not know, my lady.

D. You do not know?

T. I have not an inclination.

D. Stay yet. You shall keep the purse if you will do your best to discover who she is.

T. Your ladyship is very fair (pocketing), and I thank your ladyship for restoring my confidence.

D. Then tell me first. You say you know that your master is in love.

T. Certainly; as much or more than all the court.

D. All the court!

T. Except your ladyship ... I beg your ladyship’s pardon.

D. Except me?

T. And me.

D. And you?

T. And old Sir Gregory, I may say. [Pg 160]

D. Please, Tristram, keep to the matter. By what signs know you that your master is in love?

T. First because he talks nonsense aloud to himself; then he reads and writes so many letters.

T. I never deceived any one, my lady: and if I can discover my master’s secret, your ladyship shall know it. I hold, like your ladyship, that love is a [Pg 162] most contemptible disease, from which a good servant should seek to deliver his master. But I don’t think 580 we shall find any lady.

T. I will, your ladyship. (Aside.) And as for secrets—if you knew my master’s as well as I know yours, you would not need to take me into your pay.

T. I have found a prize: just exactly what I wanted: one of my master’s love-letters, or a piece of one,—that’s the third to-day,—lying on the walk. It was not [Pg 173] there when I went to order the horses, else I must have trod on it; but when I came back, it lay in the middle of the path, as if dropped from the skies. Reveal what it may, it goes to the Countess to-morrow; and it should stand me in something handsome. Unsealed, unfolded even, for any to read: and no name. Poetry like my master’s. There’s no harm in my reading, even though I should not understand.

(Reads.)—‘Master of mine!'—Ha! ’tis the lady.

Unspeak’ble!—that is unspeakable; and purgatree!—why the big O hath fallen out. I never loved this purgatory, and quarrel not at any shortening of it.—‘Enchained long whilom.’—Mysteries and crimes! chained is she? Where can he have chained her? and how, if she be chained, can she have cast this on the path? unless she threw it from the window....

Just so! But is she fled or no? I wish she wrote clearer sense.

[Pg 174]

(Re-enter St. Nicholas behind.)

Hem!

N. (coming forward). Tristram, where found you that? it was not intended for your reading.

T. So I guess, sir; but if letters be purposely thrown open on the ground, they may be read by those for whom they were not intended.

N. Give it to me. ’Tis mine.

T. I see no sign of that, sir, unless you will say that everything which the ladies let fall belongs to you.

N. No impertinence, man: give it me at once.

T. Nay; I have my duty. This belongs to my master. I shall guard it for him.

N. I tell you ’tis mine.

T. So you said of Lady Laura’s glove.

N. That has nothing to do with it. Give me the paper.

T. Not till ’tis proved to be yours, sir: which can never be.

N. I tell you, Tristram, that I wrote it myself.

T. We shall soon see that, sir. This is writ by a[Pg 175] lady; who is prisoned or chained somewhere in the court. And she says;—well, what she says I cannot tell; but my master thinks she has run away, and has bade me order the horses to be after her.

N. What ridiculous stuff you make of it, Tristram. ’Tis addressed to Love: you do not understand.

T. Yes: it is love, and court love too: I understand that well enough, and I understand that ’tis writ to a man; therefore ’tis pikestaff-plain that ’tis writ by a woman: therefore it half follows that you did not write it: and therefore it belongs to my master.

N. How therefore belongs it to your master?

T. Why, whose else should it be? His letters come from the four quarters, no one knows whither; just where this came from.

N. Nonsense, Tristram: I assure you ’tis mine.

T. Think not to owl me thus.

N. Man! I swear that I composed that poem myself. Had you any culture you would distinguish it from the poor style of a woman. It has fallen from my pocket by accident: and if you will not give it me, I must take it from you.

T. Hands off, sir, now. I can’t think why you should try to get what belongs to another. You are mistaken. 'Master of mine’it says—and would a man write thus? (begins to read).

[Pg 176]

T. I read correctly, sir. If you find fault with my reading, ’tis the strangeness of the matter. I have good reasons for not parting with this; and I am not a baseborn clown.

N. Worse; thou art a thief.

T. Thief call you me? Now were the verses ten thousand times yours, sir, I’d never give 'em you. I defy you!

T. Good day, sir. Stand you here and rail. I must be off with my master after this lady. But I shall not forget your language to me, sir: be this paper what it will. [Exit.

N. Tristram, Tristram, I beg of you! my sonnet! my sonnet!

[Pg 177]

ACT · II

SCENE · 1

Night. The garden, at Laura’s windows, which are nearly to the ground. L. a wall with door in it leading from the park without. Enter by door in travelling costume FREDERICK and TRISTRAM carrying a small portmantle. F. stays behind to lock the door.

TRISTRAM (coming to front).

Here’s a journey: twenty miles about and home again: and no lady. Were it not for the letter I found on the path, I should hold to my opinion that it is all a make-believe, and that there is no lady at all: and that my master wrote that first letter to himself, making the appointment to meet himself, ... he returns so pleased, with his head in the air, like the best satisfied lover. I have a fool for my master. He is but a fool, tho’he needs no humouring. (To F. who approaches.) Well, now we are at home again, sir; and as it were partly returned to our senses....

[Pg 178]

FREDERICK.

Silence, Tristram. Take off your boots.

T. Pray, sir....

F. Not a word. Obey me.

T. Heaven help us! what is this for?

F. Silence. Are they off?

T. They are coming.

F. Hark now what you have to do. Cross the grass silently, unlock my door, creep upstairs like a thief, and sit in my chamber without a movement till I come.

T. The grass is like a sponge. I have begun to catch cold already: I am just going to sneeze.

F. Sneeze, and I’ll strangle you.

T. Is this your treatment for all my services?

T. And no wonder neither. Thus the world will repay devotion. Can I see you so blind to your good fortune, and when heaven’s door stands open....

SCENE · 2

D. (reading aloud). I could not have chosen, among all my friends, one more discreet and serviceable than is Ricardo. There is nothing so difficult that he has not experience for it ... nothing so private but that he may not well be trusted with it.... He has been accustomed to manage all my affairs....

T. Married, say you, now? I thought you had not promised. When I had no money you hung off. Now you see me as rich as Plutarch, you’re quick enough. But it’s a hoax. I filled this bag with curtain-rings to deceive you: and where are you now?

F. gives L. the portrait: which the spectators see her exchange for another. She turns, and, going to D., presents her with that.

[Pg 244]

ACT · III

SCENE · 1

A hall on the first floor of the Palace: stairs at the back leading down. A lamp burning below shines on to the stage.

(The maids are congregated at back, R. as they come out of the passage. They stand forth singly to be questioned, and come in turn to front, R.)

SCENE · 2

Frederick’s room; open portmanteaus, &c. lying about. Near the fireplace R. is a cupboard with key in lock. A table in centre.

Enter FREDERICK carrying music, and TRISTRAM.

FREDERICK.

All my clothes are in, you say, Tristram? [Pg 258]

TRISTRAM.

Everything, sir.

F. You pack well, Tristram: put in these. (handing music.) Is there room for the music?

T. Anything, sir. Lie there, ye wrigglers. (begins to sing to himself.)

F. And this book.

T. Where is it you may be going, if you please, sir?

F. Never mind. You pack very well, Tristram. I shall miss you.

T. If the Countess has sent you to Milan, will you not want your best black velvet doublet?

F. I shall wear that on the journey.

T. Wear your best black velvet on the road! Well!—Stay we long away, sir?

F. Never mind. Now shut it up and give me the key.

T. I should like to know, sir, how long we stay 2360 away, and when we are to start.

F. Give me the key. Now, Tristram, I understand that the Countess has dismissed you from her household. That saves me explanation. Here’s your wages (puts money on the table) for the current quarter. You are no more my servant. [Pg 259]

T. Good heavens! do you discharge me, sir? I beg, what have I done to offend you?

T. Heavens! what has possessed my master, and what’s to happen to me? O wala, wala! It all comes of love: or rather, I should say, it all came of my hat. I would it had been consumed entirely. This hole in the crown is not to be mended ... and all round ’tis like tinder, it breaks with a touch. Of what contemptible material are these hats made! It might have been sewn up else. Now ’tis a picture of me. Yes, the hat is me, as it were; the hole in the crown is the ruin of my fortunes wrought upon me by the fiery lamp, which is my love for Flora. There’s a parable. Could I write a poem on this, it might appease the Countess. Deary me! What are Flora and I to do? Money being[Pg 261] the root of all evil, I must look first to that. All depends on that. Let me see what I can muster. There’s my pay; there’s the Countess’present, and my little savings. (turns out his purse and pockets on to the table.) I’ll put it all in heaps of ten. No, heaps of five: better in fives, there’ll be more heaps; and there’s comfort in the number of heaps. Tho’less

lordly, ’twill be more showy. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty. (knocking at door.) Come in,—twenty-five.

Enter St. Nicholas.

ST. NICHOLAS.

Tristram! Where’s your master?

T. Twenty-five. My master’s no more. Twenty-six.

N. Frederick is dead?

T. (singing). What dead, my dearie? Oh no, my dearie.

N. What is this nonsense, Tristram?

T. When I meet with a poet, St. Nicholas, I can 2430 speak poetry.

N. I came to see your master, Tristram; and you said he was dead.

T. I said he was no more, not that he was dead: and, as I say, he is no more my master. I am, as ’twere, a gentleman at large; and I sit here by invita[Pg 262]tion, engaged on my own affairs, which do not need assistance.

N. I came to see your master on important business, Tristram. Be civil enough to tell me where he is.

T. My master is nowhere. This was twenty-six.

N. I shall wait for him here.

T. Well, if you choose to wait, I know what you come after. ’Tis not the sonnet.

N. When will Frederick be back, Tristram?

T. But I’ll give you back your sonnet, if you will write me a poem about my hat, this hat. ’Tis but to versify my own imaginations. See! I am the hat: the hole in it is my discharge: the flame which burnt the hole is Flora,—that’s the Countess’maid. All is good. There’s the blackness of the hat, the fire of the lamp, the abysm of the hole: it lacks but the moon, which you might shift to see through the crown; and if you could weave in with that your sphinx and something about death, I think that I might tickle the Countess’ ear to reconsider of my discharge; for she loves poetry.

N. Curse thy impertinence, Tristram. Where’s thy master?

T. I will shew you where your master is, if you curse me or aught of mine, master Nick.

N. Darst thou speak to me thus? [Pg 263]

T. Did you not call me a thief, and base-born clown?

N. Art thou not both?

T. Whate’er I be, Mr. Poet, I have now no master, nor any obligation to any gentleman to make believe for his convenience that thou art aught. Thou! Why thy brainpan hath nought in it but shoddy, I warrant. Thou combed ass! thou left-handed goose!—to curse 2470 me!

N. By heaven, I cannot away with thee.

T. No, that you can’t. (Aside.) I have it. I’ll shut him in the screeky cupboard.—Well, sir: I know what you come after. ’Tis the marriage papers, is it not? I was bid see to them. Look in that cupboard.

N. Ah! are they there? (Goes to cupboard and looks in. T. pushes him behind, and shuts door on him, locking it.)

T. There curse me, and seek your papers.—(Aside.) I think I have him now. If this does not satisfy my 2480master, I’ll never try to please him again.

N. (within). Let me out at once. There are no papers here. What did you shut me in here for?

T. To follow your occupation—to lounge, lounge in the cupboard. Am I a thief?

N. Let me out, I beg of you, Tristram.

T. Not till you have made my poem, or told me a cure for the rheumatics. Ay, bawl and kick: I[Pg 264] will finish my accounts. Kick away, one for each pile. Twenty-six it was: twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Why you overdo it: you kick by the ducat. With three and a half, (pocketing.) thirty-three ducats and a half. Silence! silence! ’Tis more kicks than half-pence, as they say. If you will be quiet, I will give you back your sonnet. (Takes it out and reads)—

Master of mine, remember for pitie.

Ha! who’s your master now?—I will recite the end part, which I have never read.

My stars! and no wonder neither.

Hem! Very good, sir, as far as it goes. You should finish this and have it ready by the wedding. See! I will thrust it to you under the door. Won’t you take it back? If I have not charmed him to sleep with his own verses! Ha! he bites—he lives. (N. pulls it to him from within.) (To himself.) This is very well. But I wonder why my master wished him out of the way;[Pg 265] and why he is sent to Milan; and taking all these things with him; and why he is travelling in that doublet. He hath no care for his clothes. Yet I’ll do him a last service, and brush it for him. ’Tis sadly dusty (having taken it down). He shall not say that his old valet neglected him in aught. So lie there. (puts doublet on table.) Pockets full, of course. If I were a gentleman, I’d have no pockets. How can velvet lie? How can one smoothe it down, stuffed out in a lump like this ... an old handkerchief, I’ll warrant ... no ... a glove: a lady’s glove: a very secret affair: one he hath stolen to write verses on. I shall tell the Countess of this. (Knocking at the door heard.)

This will be Mister Ricardo, I suppose. Come in!

Enter Sir Gregory.

GREGORY.