SCENE 1. _Within Dover castle. Same room as in act first. Enter

Glaia followed by Eldra._

_Eld._ O, my lady, up all night, and now 'tis barely day you must be going!

_Gla._ My good Eldra, you would teach my shadow constancy, for you follow me without let or leave from the sun.

_Eld._ I follow not you but my orders, mistress. Sir Roland says that I must not leave you.

_Gla._ The gates are all locked. Does he think me a bird to fly over the walls?

_Eld._ That he does! The bonniest bird that ever sang in Greenot woods. Isn't Sir Roland a man, my lady?

_Gla._ By his cap and feather, I should not doubt it.

_Eld._ But a man you may look at, my lady!

_Gla._ Pray God I may, madam, for 'tis sad to be young and blind.

_Eld._ Ay, but when I look at Sir Roland I could sing again the song that got me a husband.

_Gla._ What song? I think you got him with your fair face and honest mind, and he took the song by way of grace with meat.

_Eld._ True, mistress, I was a fair, canny lass over the border.

_Gla._ And a fair, canny dame you are now, Eldra. But what was the song?

_Eld._ It was back summat ten jaunts o' the sun from Lammas to Lammas. I was standing on the rock hills over Logan frith wi' the green woods behind me an' lookin' out to sea. The waves were runnin' high, and the brine in my face gave me such a spirit that in a minute my bonnet was off and I was singing at the top of my voice--

O braw, braw knight, come down the glen And awa' to kirk wi' me! And Heaven send us seven stout sons To fight for our king on the sea!

It's a long ballad, but it's out o' my mind now, and who should come up behind me but my man that was to be, and 'twas set then and there we must go to the kirk come Sunday. Ay, it got me a husband, but never a son, for only six months away he was drowned at sea--the very sea that I'd sung so brave t-to----

_Gla._ Don't cry. He will come sailing back some day with a fortune in his pocket. I don't believe he was drowned.

_Eld._ I care not what's in his pocket, ma'am, if he bring me love in his heart.

_Gla._ That he will, I am sure. Where is Orson?

_Eld._ Bathing his knees in gooseoil, my lady. You kept him at prayers all night for Sir Hubert.

_Gla._ Why, did we not share his watch?

_Eld._ Yes, mistress, but when you fell asleep we had not the heart to wake you.

_Gla._ O, ho! I fell asleep, did I?

_Eld._ I should hope you did, my lady. For my part I winked but once, and when I woke up you were----

_Gla._ Asleep?

_Eld._ No, but you were praying so chipper that I knew you were just at it.

_Gla._ O, false woman! Do you think I could sleep when Hubert is on the sea? Call Orson to me.

_Eld._ Orson! Orson!

[_Enter Orson, walking stiffly_]

_Gla._ Why, Orson, you carry as much dignity as a watchman that has just let in a duke.

_Ors._ Mock not affliction got in your service, my lady.

_Gla._ My service? When did I tell you to sleep all night on your knees?

_Ors._ Sleep? Sleep, lady?

_Gla._ Ay, sleep. You are a knave. Bring me my lute.

_Ors._ [_Muttering_] Sleep! There's thanks for you!

[_Exit_]

_Eld._ Mistress, you must not play your lute here. The king's men are not like Sir Hubert's, and your voice will quick tell 'em there's a bird in the bower.

_Gla._ I am not afraid. What are men but creatures like ourselves?

_Eld._ Like ourselves? La, my lady!

_Gla._ There's no harm in them. You are a foolish dame.

[_Re-enter Orson_]

[_Taking lute_] Good Orson, I am sorry if your knees are stiff. You may have the unguent that Sir Roland brought me from Palestine. Go, Eldra, and get it for him.

_Eld._ [_Aside_] An I give him not gooseoil with a dash of cinnamon, I'm no good servant to my mistress.

[_Exeunt Eldra and Orson_]

_Gla._ I do not like this castle with Hubert away. Sir Roland makes it a prison. If I could get out I should try to find my way to Greenot woods. The doves are nesting now, and the little brown fawns are specked with snow.

[_Plays lute and sings_]

O, lady, let the roses blow In thy pale cheeks for this-- That I may to that garden go And pluck them with a kiss.

My roses are all plucked, she said, No more shall ever grow, For cold is he and low his head Whose dear love made them blow.

Then lay she down where slept her lord Upon the silver heather; Then sighed the knight, nor said he word, But left the twa together.

[_Enter the king, dressed in black. He gazes at Glaia_]

_Gla._ What is your name, boy?

_Hen._ Henry.

_Gla._ Henry? That is the king's name. Are you his soldier?

_Hen._ I fight for him.

_Gla._ Ah, me!

_Hen._ Is it not brave to fight?

_Gla._ But kings are wicked To buy their kingdoms with their subjects' lives. Two days ago they brought a noble knight Into the castle, bloody and quite dead, And when I cried, my Hubert whispered "Hush, 'Tis for the king." Hubert is now at sea-- Mayhap this moment dies--and for the king. And 'twas last night I heard Sir Roland say "We'll hold the castle till each man is down," All for the king. And now _you_ fight for him. I hate the king!

_Hen._ O, do not say that.

_Gla._ Why?

_Hen._ Because he loves you.

_Gla._ He has never seen me. You're merry, boy.

_Hen._ But good kings love their subjects Before they know them.

_Gla._ O! Is Henry good?

_Hen._ He prays to be so.

_Gla._ Let him pray, lest he Grow old in evil like his father, John. Who is your father, Henry?

_Hen._ He is dead.

_Gla._ Ah! But you have a mother.

_Hen._ Far away, And one who loves me little.

_Gla._ Now I'll sigh No more for parents, since I know that they May die, or prove unkind. I have no kin. But Hubert loves me.

_Hen._ Lady----

_Gla._ I am Glaia. That is all I know, but Hubert says Some day he'll tell me more. I do not care. I love to be a mystery to myself.

_Hen._ [_Aside_] She's nobly born, and kept from her estate; But how should she be honest Hubert's charge?

_Gla._ What say you, Henry?

_Hen._ 'Tis so strange to find An angel housing in this black-browed castle, Converting war's grim seat to paradise. Hast always lived here?

_Gla._ O, behind these walls? No, I've a home deep in the happy forest. I do not like this place--these huge black rocks Piled up so high, with caves i' the ground, and holes To shoot out arrows. I walk on tiptoe here, Afraid I'll wake the ghosts that sleep i' the corners. But in the forest I can shout and run, And everything I wake will laugh and sing.

_Hen._ Where is this happy place?

_Gla._ I can not tell. 'Twas night when we came here, and Hubert says That none must know the way. I wonder why. Do you live in a castle?

_Hen._ When I'm not At wars.

_Gla._ O me, I would not live in one To please----

_Hen._ The king?

_Gla._ No, not to please the king.

_Hen._ If he were lonely, Glaia?

_Gla._ Lonely? O, He is to wed the princess Margaret. Are you not glad? He'll not be lonely then. She's fair and good, they say.

_Hen._ But not as you. Her princess feet like well the solid earth. She is a flower that sips of sun and dew. But feedeth most from root-cups firm in ground; While you are made of music, love, and air,-- A being of the sky--a lover's star, Although he be a king. The grace of heaven About your beauty plays, and drops as soft Upon my eyes as light from the lark's wing. But I must leave you now. Sweet, take this gift.

[_Gives her his jewelled belt_]

And know my name and place are worthy yours, Though you should be a princess, as I think. See, here's a jewel in this belt. I dare To part with it, though wise men say my life Is safe but when I wear it. 'Tis the stone Of Wales, and blessed by magic of the seers That in that country dwell.

_Gla._ Then keep it. Ay, You must.

_Hen._ No, no! I have a fear some harm Will touch you, me away. Keep you the charm, And I will take your lute. In lonely hours I'll touch the chords and think thou'rt listening.

[_Exit_]

_Gla._ A lovely boy! O me, these dreadful wars! Eldra's a goose to call the king's men rude. I wish he had not gone. I'll play again And see who'll come. Ah, now I have no lute. No matter, I will sing.

[_Sings_]

O, sweet the day and fair the May, But Love he laid him down to weep----

[_Enter Gregory_]

_Greg._ A pixy sure! Sweet apparition, wilt fly if I approach? Then here I'll stand, and from this point remote As frosty Hebrid from the golden East, Adore thy seeming substance! Ah, no answer? Advance then, valiant Gregory, and explore. Flesh? 'S light, 'tis flesh! A very woman, too. A silent woman. Heavenly miracle! With lips like twin strawberries 'neath one leaf. The very manner of them begs a kiss. I' faith, they shall not beg.

_Gla._ You would not kiss me!

_Greg._ You wrong me, duck. Why, I'm a man of mirth A soldier, sweet. And would not kiss? Now, now! You take me for a ghost--or starve-bone saint. I am not padded--I fill out my coat And owe but for the cloth. A man, my chick! Shalt have a kiss.

_Gla._ O, help me, Eldra! Help!

[_Stephen runs in, seizes Gregory and shakes him about_]

_Ste._ [_Pricking him with his sword_] Shalt have a kiss, he shall! A man, my chick! I fill my coat, I do.'

_Greg._ Hold, sir! I am An officer of the king!

_Ste._ Why then, shalt have More kisses! 'S blood! I thought thee but a scrub. A king's man, sir, shall have more ceremony.

[_Pricks him around the room. Enter Roland_]

_Rol._ Stephen! Brawling here? You know the orders.

_Ste._ Orders, I take it, sir, don't count in such a case extraordinary.

_Rol._ Your extraordinary cases have become quite usual, Stephen.

_Ste._ Be you the judge, sir. This gay blood here was troubling the lady----

_Rol._ Glaia! Then he dies! [_Drawing his sword_]

_Ste._ Orders, orders, sir!

_Gla._ He did not touch me, Roland.

_Rol._ Touch thee? If he No more than looked at thee death is enough. But had he touched thee----

_Gla._ Art thou cruel, Roland? I thought thee gentle. Wouldst thou make me hate thee?

_Rol._ You shall not hate me, Glaia. [_Sheathes his sword_] Let him live. But take him from my sight.

[_Exeunt Stephen and Gregory_]

_Gla._ O, Roland, now I love thee!

_Rol._ Love me, Glaia?

_Gla._ Next to Hubert.

_Rol._ O, next to Hubert.

_Gla._ And the boy.

_Rol._ The boy?

_Gla._ Henry his name is. Such a pretty youth! He gave me this,--and see, this jewel here Is all so precious that it guards the life Of whoso wears it. He must like me well To give it me. Dost think he likes me, Roland?

_Rol._ [_Aside_] O God, the king! ... Give me the baldric, Glaia. I will return it, for I know the youth. In truth, I've seen him wear this very belt. 'Twas wrong to take it, Glaia. He belongs So wholly to the king that you can have No portion of his love, lest he betray Himself and thee. Go, get you ready, child, To leave this place. For you 'tis full of dangers.

_Gla._ Back to the woods? O happiness! But I-- Ah, must we go so soon?

_Rol._ It was your prayer.

_Gla._ But then--I had not--strange! Why is it, Roland, 'Tis not so merry going as I thought? Is't not a little lonely in the woods? And yet it never seemed so. Will you come To see me, Roland?

_Rol._ Do you want me, Glaia?

_Gla._ O, yes, dear Roland! And you'll bring the boy? I want to ask if he will be my brother.

_Rol._ You must not see him. Go and get you ready. [_Exit Glaia_] O, wretched me, to love so frail a thing! Fragile and pure, thou art not for this world, Where the same winds that bring thee breath must blow Thy gentle life out.

[_Re-enter the king_]

Sovereign liege, Count it not boldness if I dare to guess Your presence here. You come, my lord, to find This precious property. [_Gives him the belt_] I know 'tis prized, And hold me happy that it met my eye Before another's.

_Hen._ Gentle Roland, thanks. I need not ask if you found aught with this More precious still.

_Rol._ Nothing that majesty Might without blushing claim.

_Hen._ Thank you again. [_Aside_] I've found the lover! ... Is there news from sea?

_Rol._ Uncertain news, that I was on my way To give to you. Report cries victory For Hubert, but 'tis chance improbable That he should win, so take a breath, your highness, Ere you believe.

_Hen._ The lords must know of this!

_Rol._ Your majesty, I have a suit to thee.

_Hen._ A victory!

_Rol._ If you do hold him dear Who, by report, has won this doubtful battle, That saves your kingdom and sets fast your crown, I beg you hear me!

_Hen._ Speak, but be not slow, Good Roland.

_Rol._ Sire, De Burgh has enemies Who seek his downfall, for his honesty Stands rock-like 'tween the throne and treachery. 'Twas they who wrought to send him feebly forth 'Gainst odds so great they left no chance of life Save by God's love and favor. If he wins, The victor's garland and his king's reward Will further urge their hate to villainy.

_Hen._ Who are these foes?

_Rol._ The earl of Albemarle, Pembroke and Winchester.

_Hen._ My very staff! What proof hast thou?

_Rol._ I've nothing for your eye. But in my heart there is a testament That makes me bold to name them. I would risk All but my soul to save you such a friend And virtuous servant as De Burgh, You may Condemn me----

_Hen._ First, I'll watch these lords. But be they false, where, where shall I find friends?

_Rol._ 'Mong those who fight your battles, sire, nor fear To die to save a king.

[_Exit_]

_Hen._ [_Seating himself in an alcove_] I see a king Must take some thought to keep his crown on 's head.

[_Re-enter Stephen and Eldra_]

_Eld._ Dear man, you can't deny it! 'Twas you saved my mistress. But for my good man drowned at sea I'd love you, sweeting.

_Ste._ And if you love me it must be by way of kiss and part, for my good wife is still in the world, I've reason to think, and some day I shall run plumb into her bonny white arms. But a kiss, my lass, with a penny to the priest, can do a soldier no harm, and you'll always find me obliging in everything except matrimony.

_Eld._ Out! Away! You old father Longbeard! You Johnny Hump-back!

_Ste._ Hump! 'Tis the squint in your eye, my dearie! I'm as straight as a poplar in the king's court.

_Eld._ Squint, sir? May be so, for I'm thinkin' o' my braw handsome man, an' 'twould make a straight eye squint to see you standin' in his place, it would.

_Ste._ An' I'm thinkin' o' my bonny little girl, as plump and tender as a partridge at her first nest, and out upon you, my fine, fat waddler!

_Eld._ An my man were here you'd drop to your fours and go like a beast for shame, you would. The prettiest figure 'tween here and Jerusalem! He had an arm! He could sling a sword! And such a leg! Dick Lion-heart never shaped a trimmer stocking. Hair like a raven fannin' the wind! An eye like Sallydeen's! For all the world a black coal with a fire in the middle. No watery peepers like present company's. An his eyes were stars in heaven I could point 'em out!

_Ste._ O, my sweet wench that's a waitin' for me! When shall I see her comin' with her head up like a highland doe, an' cheeks as red as my grandam's nightcap? I think o' her now as she stood on the high rocks over Logan's frith singin' the song that made the sugar-water start in my heart. And straight I must gallop wi' her to the kirk-- Hey, what's the matter, old lady?

_Eld._ Nothin'--nothin', sir,--just one o' my qualms.

_Ste._ Do you have 'em ordinary? A pity now. My lass, an she lived a thousand years, would not he qualmsy.

_Eld._ [_Aside_] 'Tis Stephen, my own man! And he doesn't know me! O, I am changed from his ain lassie! He despises me! Waddler! O!

_Ste._ Chirk up, old duck. When I find my lass----

[_Re-enter Orson_]

_Ors._ Mistress Eldra, what do you gabbling here and my lady calling you?

[_Exit Eldra with Orson_]

_Ste._ Eldra? By Pharo's ghost! Let me see--ten years. It might be--yes--her very complexion--the pert eye--the little foot--the canny twitch to her lips--and her man drowned at sea. Well, I'm pickled. She has built up such a Solomon's glory picture o' me that plain Stephen Godfrey will never get another chance. _He_ had an arm! Ha! Did I? An eye like Sallydeen! A leg like Lion-heart! Ha! [_Struts up and down_] But now I'm father Longbeard. Well, I'll shave off this weeping willow tree anyhow.

[_Re-enter Eldra_]

_Eld._ Good sir, are you here yet?

_Ste._ [_Aside_] Good sir! Methinks I grow in favor. Ay, sweet madam.

_Eld._ [_Aside_] He's lookin' softer now. Well a day, this is a world. Here they brought me and the lady Glaia to make sure we would be safe, and now they're taking us back for the same reason. Ay me, and a lonely, dreary place it is we're goin' to, with never a civil gentleman like yourself to sit out the night wi' a stoop o' ale an' cakes o' my own raisin'.

_Ste._ My good madam, if you will give me the tip o' the road, I'll not be a slow traveller when the business of war will let an honest soldier course to his liking.

_Eld._ O, 'tis secret, sir. My lady is hid away for some reason of God or the devil, and I'll not be so false as to let a stranger on the track.

_Ste._ Am I a stranger, madam? Did not my good arm no more than an hour ago procure me warrant for better treatment? Come! As you say, there'll be lonely times, and a discreet companion who knows how to keep his tongue behind his teeth will not come amiss on a rainy day.

_Eld._ [_Aside_] How can it be harm to tell my own man when the good priest said we were one flesh? 'Twill only be tellin' my own ears. Well, sir, if you'll swear by St. Peter's thumb and the crucifix you'll never let anybody know----

_Ste._ By St. Peter's thumb and the crucifix--and your black eyes, too--I swear!

_Eld._ Then take the straight road to--O, I'm afraid!

_Ste._ Courage, my pretty! There's not a cricket to hear you.

_Eld._ The straight road to Greenot woods, and two miles in the forest where the brook crosses, ride up the stream half a mile to a tall red ash standin' alone, and three miles by the path to the right brings you to the place you'll find me. Now I've done it! No, don't thank me for bein' a fool.

_Ste._ Nay, a woman, dearie.

_Eld._ I must run to my mistress.

[_Exit Eldra, Stephen following_]

_Hen._ [_Coming forward_] Go, Stephen with the Lion's leg. You'll haste If I be not before you. Am I bound To Margaret? By others' mouths, perhaps. But certain not at all by oath of mine.

[_Enter friar Sebastian_]

What holy gloom comes here? Friar Sebastian, One time the counsellor to Isabel. Do you not know me, father?

_Fr. Seb._ [_Kneeling_] Gracious king!

_Hen._ Nay, rise and bless me.

_Fr. Seb._ Hear, my sovereign. This meeting is not chance. I sought thee here To tell what palsies me to think on.

_Hen._ Speak, Then think of it no more.

_Fr. Seb._ 'Tis said De Burgh Has gained the victory 'gainst all expectance. I know that he was sure he went to death, Else had he never put unto his lips The rose that bloomed for one so high above him. But dreaded death is yet full gracious, sire, And sanctions rights too bold for life to claim.

_Hen._ Did Hubert wrong me, father?

_Fr. Seb._ Alas, my king!

_Hen._ Come, drop your burden even to my heart That I may know its weight.

_Fr. Seb._ Sire, in the hour That he spent last on land, I married him To a most noble lady.

_Hen._ Married? Ha! Nor asked consent of me? Not one "By your good leave, my king"?

_Fr. Seb._ If in my words So soon you find affront to majesty, I dare not tell you more.

_Hen._ Nay, I'll forgive him. Remembering his service 'twere too stern To make contention of his marriage.

_Fr. Seb._ Though he should banish all the woes of England, Make sorrow alien, and a tear unknown, Yet has he wronged a king. Though happy mothers Drop on their knees and let no hour pass by Without its prayer for him, still has he wronged A king!

_Hen._ Wilt never speak because you speak So much?

_Fr. Seb._ Here let me lie, and pray your grace For two long troubled hearts. When I have spoken Then set thy foot upon my priestly head, But spare them, spare them, sire!

_Hen._ Up! Rise, I say, From this debasement. We shall take good care To shield your holiness. Now speak!

_Fr. Seb._ One word Will tell you--one.

_Hen._ [_Taking a seat_] And how much time will 't take To say that word?

_Fr. Seb._ It is the name of her Whom knightly Hubert made his wife.

_Hen._ Is it A long name, father?

_Fr. Seb._ [_On his knees_] It is Margaret.

_Hen._ [_Rising_] Of Scotland?

_Fr. Seb._ [_Covering his head_] Ay, my liege.

_Hen._ [_Aside_] Deliverance! Rise, father, rise, and learn that even a king Is noble enough to suffer and forgive.

_Fr. Seb._ Have I my ears? Are these your words, my lord? Or does some pitying angel alchemize Them into sounds more fit to reach my weak And trembling age?

_Hen._ You hear even as I speak. 'Tis true that Hubert pitched his love full high. Good manners had not o'ershot the royal bow; But take my word no harm shall come to him.

_Fr. Seb._ He'll need a friend, my liege, for dangers stride In wake of this rash marriage.

_Hen._ Leave them To me. I'll try my fledgling wit in this. Where is the cardinal?

_Fr. Seb._ I' the western hall.

_Hen._ Here come the lords. But first I'll speak with Gualo.

[_Exeunt Henry and friar Sebastian, left. At right, enter Albemarle, Winchester and Pembroke_]

_Pem._ [_To Albemarle_] He has not yet confirmed you chancellor?

_Alb._ No need, so short his reign.

_Win._ We should have news. By this the battle's done. I wonder now How far is Hubert's head on its long journey To ocean's bottom?

_Alb._ May it please your grace, We think 'tis best that you stay with the king. If all desert him 'twill look foul in us, And it will take an honest English face To keep the people with us.

_Win._ True, my lord. And I will stay with him, for I have gone A little deeper in his heart than you, And can best turn him to advance our plot.

_Pem._ While we ride forth to call men to defence-- In truth to give them hand and foot to Louis-- You wait here with the king----

_Win._ I understand. And you not coming up, perforce be taken. Then Henry may lay by his crown, or keep 't To please his jailer's peeping mammets, or bribe His turnkey for a slug of meat.

_Alb._ The jail Where he must lie is small and needs no keeper; For who go in so well contented are They're never known to set foot forth again.

_Win._ Must go so far? Well, as you please, my lords.

[_Re-enter Henry, with Cardinal Gualo and attendants_]

_Alb._ God save your majesty!

_Hen._ My faithful friends, Well met.

_Win._ Ah, still in black, my liege?

_Hen._ Why not, My lord? When my poor father in the flesh Was struck by death they dressed me in this hue; And heavier cause have I to wear it now, When he who gave my soul its dearest light-- My father in nobility above The blood or happy chance of birth--is gone To come no more.

_Win._ But, good, my liege, am I So little worth that with a strange misfit I wear his dignity?

_Hen._ The worthier You are to wear 't you'll teach me to regret His goodness lost, and be more pleased to see How I prize virtue dead, guessing thereby How dear is living virtue to my soul.

_Pem._ [_Aside to Albemarle_] Does he suspect?

_Alb._ 'Twould trouble us. There are Some captains in the fort would make a way For his escape.

_Hen._ You've had no news, my lords?

_Alb._ We yet wait word, but rest you easy, sire. Our fleet is safe and proudly bearing home.

_Hen._ Your faith is strong.

_Alb._ I have no doubt, my lord.

_Hen._ Were it not well to take this time to plan De Burgh's reward?

_Alb._ Ay, 'twere, your majesty.

_Hen._ What say you, my lord cardinal? You first. How should we grace his triumph? With what honor?

_Gualo._ None is too great. I'd place him next the throne. What think your lordships?

_Alb._ As yourself, my lord. [_Aside to Pembroke_] Best humor him.

_Gualo._ Then further I may speak. The earl of Kent, who lately met his death, Has left no heir to his vast lands and name. I think that God did so provide this place For honor of De Burgh. And more than this, Let him be made the great lord chancellor, And chief justiciary of this troubled realm.

_Alb._ [_Aside to Pembroke_] Agree. No matter. Gualo's eye is on us.

_Win._ You speak in happy time, lord cardinal, And we embrace your meaning heartily.

_Hen._ This easy payment of so great a debt Inclines me to forget the dangerous way De Burgh comes by his honor. We must keep That ever in our hearts, my worthy lords, Lest we grow jealous of his climbing fortune.

_Alb._ I hope we've memories, sire, and honest ones.

_Hen._ Well, to forfend the bating of his praise In my poor mind, I'll give a lasting proof Of how I hold him, and here forfeit right To Margaret's hand in favor of De Burgh.

_Alb._ My liege! The princess?

_Hen._ He is now an earl; And if I not complain, should any here?

_Alb._ But, sire----

_Pem._ [_Aside to Albemarle_] Submit! 'Tis only for an hour.

_Alb._ Pardon me that I thought to save you, sire From such dear sacrifice.

_Hen._ 'Tis fit we make it, And ask your fair approval, Albemarle.

_Alb._ And here I give it, my too gracious king. [_To an attendant_] Whist! Are the horses saddled?

_Att._ Ready, sir.

[_Enter Gregory_]

_Hen._ Well, captain, well?

_Greg._ The princess Margaret And lady Albemarle are at the gates.

_Alb._ My countess gads for news of her brave brother.

_Hen._ A worthy quest. [_To Gregory_] See them refreshed and lodged, But bid them keep their chamber for a time.

[_Exit Gregory_]

_Alb._ [_To Pembroke_] Where are our messengers? Can they be lost?

_Pem._ We should have heard by now. There's something wrong.

[_Enter an attendant_]

_Att._ Your majesty, a messenger!

_Hen._ From sea?

[_Enter Gersa_]

_Ger._ The king! Where is the king?

_Alb._ Pray use your eyes.

_Ger._ [_Kneeling_] Your majesty.

_Hen._ Arise. Your message?

_Ger._ Sire, Hubert de Burgh is at the port.

_Alb._ [_Aside_] How now?

_Ger._ With all his ships but five.

_Pem._ [_To Winchester_] But five? What's here?

_Win._ A witch i' the pot, your lordships.

_Ger._ For those five There's fifty of the French gone to the bottom. The rest are scattered wide, with crippled sails Begging the winds for mercy.

_Hen._ Hark, my lords! Divinity is here. [_To Gersa_] How was this done? What know you of the battle?

_Ger._ When we met The opposing fleet, we crept by swift and silent, As to escape the fight. So near we coursed We heard the jeers cast on us as we passed. Well by, we turned, and with the wind at back, Bore down full sail and grappled.

_Hen._ Here were men!

_Ger._ Then, sire, we cut the lime-sacks on our decks----

_Hen._ Lime-sacks?

_Ger._ Which gave out smarting clouds that rose----

_Hen._ Now here were fools!

_Ger._ Sire, you forget the wind. The sweeping breeze took up the stinging lime, Clearing our decks, but wrapping round our foes, Blinding all eyes.

_Hen._ St. George!

_Ger._ 'Twas easy then To hook our vessels to the great French ships, Cut down their rigging and make way at will O'er the wallowing crew.

_Pem._ Must we believe this tale?

_Hen._ Goes it against your wish?

_Pem._ Nay, but 'tis strange.

_Ger._ [_To Henry_] One hundred knights, eight hundred officers, Now wait their doom from you. Le Moine was found Hid in his ship, and offered mighty sums For his vile life, but Fitzroy closed the parley By striking off his head.

_Alb._ What? Le Moine dead?

_Hen._ Why so amazed, my lord of Albemarle? Did you not prophesy a victory?

_Alb._ True, true, my liege, but this surpasses all My hope of it. Call it a miracle, Not victory.

_Gualo._ Call it whate'er you will, The Lord of Hosts was with this noble knight.

_Hen._ Not knight, but the right noble earl of Kent, And for his life our grand justiciary. [_To Gersa_] Thou art the mavis to a happy dawn. Come, sing again. [_Talks aside with him_]

_Win._ [_To Albemarle and Pembroke_] Your lordships, do you ride?

_Alb._ What tone is this?

_Win._ A tone you'll tune to, sir. Didst think me such a fool to stay and fall With Henry into Louis' hands? Nay, I've No wish to enter that small cell of earth Which needs no turnkey, as you say.

_Alb._ What, sir?

_Win._ No, by the Lord! At the first castle where You planned to stop I had my servants laid To take you prisoners. It stirs my blood That you should think I came to the bishopric By a fool's wit. Now Rome is at my back, And Henry king! But I'll make peace with you, For I foresee a power in De Burgh That warns me not to scorn even traitor strength.

_Alb._ Ay, we've no fear you'll let this sudden turn Cut off our fortunes.

_Hen._ Come, my lords. Come, all! We'll to the gates to greet the earl of Kent!

[_Exeunt. Curtain_]