SCENE 1. _A room in the earl of Kent's palace. An inner room rear,

cut off by curtains. Kent alone._

_Kent._ Now, Eleanor, wilt prove thee saint, or devil? Wilt mend this breach, or must I perish in it? Too well I know that soul's dark history To think it may breed light. The moment globes The years' full character; a whole life's face Peeps out in smallest deeds. Yet wonders are. And Eleanor may prove false to herself To once keep faith with Heaven. [_Listens_] Glaia? Ay!

[_Goes to curtains rear, parts them softly, looks within and returns_]

She did not call. I'll watch all night. 'Twill be No added task since there's no sleep for me. My Margaret is safe. They dare not touch A princess of the blood. But I am down. 'Tis said and sung there is no greater pain Than wrenches Fortune's nurslings when she flies. Not so. False lady of the wheel, take all! But O, to see my king yield to the wolves Now fang-close to his heart--there is my death!

[_Sits on a couch, his head bowed. Margaret enters, advances softly and embraces him. He looks up, returning her caress_]

Now let the world go on, I'll rest me here. Why should I keep my hand proud on the helm, War with the unsated surge, nor know the pause That is the spirit's silent growing time? Ah, Margaret, how little will content thee? No more nor less than love and poorest me?

_Mar._ No more, my lord. Nor will aught less make full My greedy cup. Thou wert the king's, but now Thou art all mine. All mine, my love? Or is That little "all" my greatest flatterer?

_Kent._ You know my heart. Where have you been so long?

_Mar._ With Eleanor. I brought her home with me.

_Kent._ She's here?

_Mar._ Yes, Hubert. Ah, she loves you well.

_Kent._ She loves me?

_Mar._ Better than you thought.

_Kent._ [_In sudden hope_] Then ... Speak! What has she told you?

_Mar._ Nothing. What, my lord, Should she have told me?

_Kent._ [_Dully_] Nothing.

_Mar._ I have heard So much of this--this nothing.

_Kent._ Margaret, Thou hast my soul. Wilt keep it true for me?

_Mar._ I keep it? No, I doubt myself.

_Kent._ Thyself? Then trust my trust in thee, which meets thy love As swallows meet the waking winds of Spring And know where life is.

_Mar._ Doubt or trust, I love thee! O Hubert, let us go this night to lands That know how to be kind and smile on lovers.

_Kent._ Dost hope by flying England to fly pain, That everywhere encircles man as fire To shape his soul in fashion of his God?

_Mar._ For love and life I beg! Why do I say For love and life, since there's no life for me Without thy love? O, you will go with me! Leave thy ungrateful king to wed at will----

_Kent._ Leave Glaia to the king? The thought is flame!

_Mar._ [_Standing before him, suddenly tense_] Who is this maiden that you guard as she Were the one drop of blood that in your heart Makes living centre? Who?

_Kent._ [_After a pause_] You heard my answer.

_Mar._ Ay, to the king, but not to me--thyself-- Nay more, for when thou takest away thyself, Though in the smallest part, so much I die,-- And by this secret that divorces us Am wholly slain. But tell it to me, Hubert, And 'twill become another blessed bond, To second union closer than the first Re-sanctioning our souls. [_He is silent. Her rage overcomes her_]

Unseal thy lips, Or by the fires that flit now through my brain, By the ancestral wrongs within my blood That start suspicion where there is no foe, I shall begin to doubt thee! Who is she To thee who art my husband?

_Kent._ Margaret, Go to the maiden lying yon and look Once more upon her vestal face, then ask If she know aught of guilt. [_Margaret looks silently toward the curtains_]

_Mar._ [_In subdued tone_] She's there?

_Kent._ Poor child! I thought you'd be her gentle, elder sister, And help me still her woeful flutterings. [_Turns away_] Where's now the proud, sure strength that made discount Of Heaven's arm? O, reed-propped vanities, Swelling usurpful till ye seem our life, Ye must come down that we may find ourselves And God.

_Mar._ O, take me back! I did not know This spirit dwelt in me. One of my race, A woman, long ago, stabbed through a heart That played her false, yet she was gentle too, And died for what her hand had done. May be The unquiet dead come back to live in us. O, it was she stirred this strange passion in me. Twas not myself. Speak to me, Hubert! Say 'Twas not myself.

_Kent._ [_Embracing her_] Sole angel of my love!

_Mar._ You'll take me back? Let Time begin his count One minute past, and leave the last one out. O, say a word will sponge it from the day, Or all my future must turn back its face And live with gazing on that minute's point.

_Kent._ It was not you, my heart. But say it were, Should I pull down my heaven because a bird Makes flying blot against it? 'Tis the doubts That darkly flitting show love's constant sky Forever radiant.

_Mar._ O me! O me! And this is shame!

_Kent._ Nay, sweet! Weep, if you must, But let thy tears be rain upon the soul Making a fair new season.

_Mar._ Let me die!

_Kent._ So overwrought? Thou who hast been my strength?

_Mar._ If I were dead then you----

_Kent._ Should be as thou! 'Tis not thy death but Glaia's that would be The sad solution of these woes.

_Mar._ Not her, So fair ... and dear to us.

Kent. [_Kissing her_] My gentle love! ... 'Twere best she died, who now must drink the cup That makes death sweet in coming. I myself Almost could guide the knife unto her heart And cut off ruder visitors.

_Mar._ O, veil The thought. Its nakedness has chilled my soul.

_Kent._ Ay, she is God's, not mine. Leave her to him. And now, my life, you, too, must go to rest.

_Mar._ You'll not to bed?

_Kent._ The king may send for me. He will not sleep, for in his face was woe Will quiet not to slumber.

_Mar._ O, my love, How can I leave thee now? If thou wert held By softest sleep on pillows of content I could no less than weep to go from thee, And yet these tears are all I have when thou Art left to sad, despairing watch. I'll stay, For I've no words to part with, none to tell How breaks my heart in going.

_Kent._ Nay, I must work, And you will call my wits to otherwheres; Then in the morn these eyes, undewed with sleep, Will show me not the light that must be mine.

_Mar._ Dost toy with words to me? Not in my eyes, But in my heart burns thy unfailing torch, And if you find it dim it is thy secret Casts shade between us, not a lack in me.

_Kent._ If I should speak then oaths were straws in fire.

_Mar._ O, no, I would not have thee speak. That's past. 'Tis our misfortune that we are divided In this most pitchy hour that in itself Were nothing if our hearts could meet and melt In unreserved touch. In every life There comes a watch the soul must keep alone. The hour has struck for thine. And mine I feel Is not so far away. Now, now I go, My lord. Because I help you best in going. Our hearts would rush together, and the pain Grows in them baffled. Dearer than life, good night. I leave my prayers like candles set about you, And as they fail think of me on my knees Renewing them from Heaven. [_Exit, right_]

_Kent._ Margaret!

[_Pauses, slowly takes up the light and goes off, left, leaving the room in darkness. Curtain_]