The Poetical Works of John Keats/King Stephen
For other versions of this work, see King Stephen.
KING STEPHEN.
A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.
ACT I.
Scene I.—Field of Battle.
Alarum. Enter King Stephen, Knights, and Soldiers.
Stephen. If shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll'n frontSpread deeper crimson than the battle's toil,Blush in your casing helmets! for see, see!Yonder my chivalry, my pride of war,Wrench'd with an iron hand from firm array,Are routed loose about the plashy meads,Of honor forfeit. O, that my known voiceCould reach your dastard ears, and fright you more!Fly, cowards, fly! Glocester is at your backs!Throw your slack bridles o'er the flurried manes,Ply well the rowel with faint trembling heels,Scampering to death at last!
1st Knight.The enemyBears his flaunt standard close upon their rear.
2d Knight. Sure of a bloody prey, seeing the fensWill swamp them girth-deep.
Stephen.Over head and ears.No matter! 'Tis a gallant enemy; How like a comet he goes streaming on.But we must plague him in the flank,—hey, friends?We are well breath'd,—follow!
Enter Earl Baldwin and Soldiers, as defeated.
Stephen.De Redvers!What is the monstrous bugbear that can fright Baldwin?
Baldwin. No scare-crow, but the fortunate starOf boisterous Chester, whose fell truncheon nowPoints level to the goal of victory.This way he comes, and if you would maintainYour person unaffronted by vile odds,Take horse, my Lord.
Stephen.And which way spur for life?Now I thank Heaven I am in the toils,That soldiers may bear witness how my armCan burst the meshes. Not the eagle moreLoves to beat up against a tyrannous blast,Than I to meet the torrent of my foes.This is a brag,—be't so,—but if I fall,Carve it upon my 'scutcheon'd sepulchre.On, fellow soldiers! Earl of Redvers, back!Not twenty Earls of Chester shall browbeat[Exeunt. Alarum.The diadem.
Scene II.—Another part of the field.
Trumpets sounding a Victory. Enter Glocester, Knights, and Forces.
Glocester. Now may we lift our bruised visors up,And take the flattering freshness of the air,While the wide din of battle dies away Into times past, yet to be echoed sure In the silent pages of our chroniclers.
1st Knight. Will Stephen's death be mark'd there, my good Lord, Or that we gave him lodging in yon towers?
Glocester. Fain would I know the great usurper's fate.
Enter two Captains severally.
1st Captain. My lord!
2d Captain. Most noble Earl!
1st Captain. The King—
2d Captain.The Empress greets—
Glocester. What of the King?
1st Captain.He sole and lone maintainsA hopeless bustle 'mid our swarming arms,And with a nimble savageness attacks,Escapes, makes fiercer onset, then anewEludes death, giving death to most that dare Trespass within the circuit of this sword!He must by this have fallen. Baldwin is taken; And for the Duke of Bretagne, like a stagHe flies, for the Welsh beagles to hunt down. God save the Empress.
Glocester.Now our dreaded Queen: What message from her Highness?
2d Captain.Royal Maud.From the throng'd towers of Lincoln hath look'd down, Like Pallas from the walls of Ilion, And seen her enemies havock'd at her feet. She greets most noble Glocester from her heart, Entreating him, his captains, and brave knights, To grace a banquet. The high city gatesAre envious which shall see your triumph pass; The streets are full of music.
Enter 2d Knight.
Glocester.Whence come you?
2d Knight. From Stephen, my good Prince,—Stephen! Stephen!
Glocester. Why do you make such echoing of his name?
2d Knight. Because I think, my lord, he is no man,But a fierce demon, 'nointed safe from wounds, And misbaptized with a Christian name.
Glocester. A mighty soldier!—Does he still hold out?
2d Knight. He shames our victory. His valor still Keeps elbow-room amid our eager swords,And holds our bladed falchions all aloof—His gleaming battle-axe being slaughter-sick, Smote on the morion of a Flemish knight,Broke short in his hand: upon the which he flung The heft away with such a vengeful force,It paunch'd the Earl of Chester's horse, who then Spleen-hearted came in full career at him.
Glocester. Did no one take him at a vantage then?
2d Knight. Three then with tiger leap upon him flew, Whom, with his sword swift-drawn and nimbly held, He stung away again, and stood to breathe, Smiling. Anon upon him rush'd once more A throng of foes, and in this renew'd strife, My sword met his and snapp'd off at the hilt.
Glocester. Come, lead me to this man—and let us move In silence, not insulting his sad doom With clamorous trumpets. To the Empress bear My salutation as befits the time.[Exeunt Glocester and Forces.
Scene III.—The Field of Battle. Enter Stephen unarmed.
Stephen. Another sword! And what if I could seize One from Bellona's gleaming armory, Or choose the fairest of her sheaved spears! Where are my enemies? Here, close at hand, Here come the testy brood. O, for a sword! I'm faint—a biting sword! A noble sword! A hedge-stake—or a ponderous stone to hurl With brawny vengeance, like the laborer Cain. Come on! Farewell my kingdom,, and all hail Thou superb, plumed, and helmeted renown, All hail—I would not truck this brilliant day To rule in Pylos with a Nestor's beard—Come on!
Enter De Kaims and Knights, &c.
De Kaims. Is't madness or a hunger after deathThat makes thee thus unarm'd throw taunts at us?—Yield, Stephen, or my sword's point dips in The gloomy current of a traitor's heart.
Stephen. Do it, De Kaims, I will not budge an inch.
De Kaims. Yes, of thy madness thou shalt take the meed.
Stephen. Barest thou?
De Kaims.How dare, against a man disarm'd?
Stephen. What weapons has the lion but himself? Come not near me, De Kaims, for by the price Of all the glory I have won this day, Being a king, I will not yield alive To any but the second man of the realm, Robert of Glocester.
De Kaims.Thou shalt vail to me.
Stephen. Shall I, when I have sworn against it, sir? Thou think'st it brave to take a breathing king, That, on a court-day bow'd to haughty Maud, The awed presence-chamber may be bold To whisper, there's the man who took alive Stephen—me—prisoner. Certes, De Kaims The ambition is a noble one.
De Kaims.'Tis true,And, Stephen, I must compass it.
Stephen.No, no.Do not tempt me to throttle you on the gorge,Or with my gauntlet crush your hollow breast, Just when your knighthood is grown ripe and full For lordship.
A Soldier. Is an honest yeoman's spear Of no use at a need? Take that.
Stephen.Ah, dastard!
De Kaims. What, you are vulnerable! my prisoner!
Stephen. No, not yet. I disclaim it, and demand Death as a sovereign right unto a king Who 'sdains to yield to any but his peer,If not in title, yet in noble deeds,The Earl of Glocester. Stab to the hilt, De Kaims,For I will never by mean hands be ledFrom this so famous field. Do you hear! Be quick!
Trumpets. Enter the Earl of Chester and Knights.
Scene IV.—A Presence Chamber. Queen Maud in a Chair of State, the Earls of Glocester and Chester, Lords, Attendants.
Maud. Glocester, no more: I will behold that Boulogne: Set him before me. Nor for the poor sake Of regal pomp and a vain-glorious hour, As thou with wary speech, yet near enough, Has hinted.
Glocester. Faithful counsel have I given; If wary, for your Highness' benefit.
Maud. The Heavens forbid that I should not think For by thy valor have I won this realm. Which by thy wisdom I will ever keep. To sage advisers let me ever bend A meek attentive ear, so that they treat Of the wide kingdom's rule and government, Not trenching on our actions personal. Advised, not school'd, I would be; and henceforth Spoken to in clear, plain, and open terms, Not side-ways sermon'd at.
Glocester.Then in plain terms,Once more for the fallen king—
Maud.Your pardon, Brother,I would no more of that; for, as I said, 'Tis not for worldly pomp I wish to see The rebel, but as dooming judge to give A sentence something worthy of his guilt.
Glocester. If't must be so, I'll bring him to your presence.[Exit Glocester.
Maud. A meaner summoner might do as well—My Lord of Chester, is't true what I hear Of Stephen of Boulogne, our prisoner, That he, as a fit penance for his crimes, Eats wholesome, sweet, and palatable food Off Glocester's golden dishes—drinks pure wine, Lodges s(illegible text)?
Chester.More than that, my gracious QueenHas anger'd me. The noble Earl, methinks, Full soldier as he is, and without peer In counsel, dreams too much among his books. It may read well, but sure 'tis out of date To play the Alexander with Darius.
Maud. Truth! I think so. By Heavens it shall not last!
Chester. It would amaze your Highness now to mark How Glocester overstrains his courtesy To that crime-loving rebel, that Boulogne—
Maud. That ingrate!
Chester.For whose vast ingratitudeTo our late sovereign lord, your noble sire,The generous Earl condoles in his mishaps, And with a sort of lackeying friendliness, Talks off the mighty frowning from his brow. Woos him to hold a duet in a smile, Or; if it please him, play an hour at chess
Maud. A perjured slave!
Chester.And for his perjury,Glocester has fit rewards—nay, I believe,He sets his bustling household's wits at workFor flatteries to ease this Stephen's hours,And make a heaven of his purgatory;Adorning bondage with the pleasant glossOf feasts and music, and all idle showsOf indoor pageantry; while syren whispers,Predestined for his ears, 'scape as half-check'dFrom lips the courtliest and the rubiest,Of all the realm, admiring of his deeds.
Maud. A frost upon his summer!
Chester.A queen's nodCan make his June December. Here he comes.******
THE END.