SCENE 3. _The great hall in Westminster. Barons and prelates

assembled. Rich surcoats open, revealing arms. Enter Henry and the earl of Kent._

_Hen._ My lords, is this the faith you keep with kings? Then Heaven save me from it! Was 't not your will This day all arms should hang upon the wall? Yet you come here as though the trump had called To sudden battle.

_Canterbury._ Hear, your majesty, The cause for which we laid upon our souls This seeming perjury, and you'll forgive As Heaven, calling it no stain.

_Hen._ Sir, let The movers of this saintly shift speak first. You, Winchester? You, Albemarle? Canst preach The lie away?

_Alb._ My honored liege, these swords, Surer than bended knees, bespeak your safety. Knowing that treachery oft defames the ranks Of those who shine as the highpriests of God, I and my brother barons came thus armed, Thinking it better so to break our oaths Than that false hands should break your kingly staff.

_Hen._ For my protection then you do offend?

_Alb._ For that alone, my liege, we wear this armor.

_Hen._ And you, lord bishop, guardian of our person By prayer and Heavenly counsel,--who even in war Should wear no sword but that of righteousness,-- Confess you with these warlike blades thy Lord Unable to defend his own?

_Win._ My liege, 'Tis in His name, to work His equal justice, We bear these weapons, sacred by our cause.

[_Enter Gualo_]

_Gua._ Your majesty, the nuns of Beda's abbey Would enter now.

_Cant._ The nuns? What do they here?

_Hen._ You know, your grace, since blessed Edward's time 'T has been their privilege on days of prayer To join their voices with the court and state.

_Cant._ A privilege, but never yet in practice.

_Hen._ The more is England's shame that has not seen For so long past a day of general prayer And utter peace. Not in our time, nor John's, Nor Richard's 'fore him, nay, nor greater Henry's, Might Beda's sisters claim this privilege. Lord Cardinal, bid them in. [_Exit Gualo_]

_Alb._ Nay, nay, my liege, This is no place for women.

_Hen._ Are they not Forever foremost in both prayer and peace? By Heaven's King, they've more right here than we!

[_Enter nuns, led by the abbess, who kneels before the king_]

_Hen._ Rise, holy abbess.

_Abb._ Sovereign of England, May Heaven's Sovereign protect thy youth! And as thy hand is on thy sceptre laid Feel there the Hand invisible from whence Thy power comes, and know thy way as His.

[_Henry bows his head. The abbess and nuns pass to a station apart and kneel_]

_Hen._ Say on, lord bishop. Let us hear how priests May break an oath and Heaven smile upon it.

_Win._ These papers, dearest liege, are warrant for us. There is one here so steeped in guilt, the pope Commands his sentence by our Spiritual Court; And knowing crime so deep makes fierce defence, We came thus armed.

_Hen._ Who of my subjects is so basely given The pope must urge the sword of justice 'gainst him?

_Win._ He is so high in your esteem, my liege----

_Hen._ Now were he next ourself, our very love, Excepting one, the noble earl of Kent, Whom only calumny dare censure, we Should yield him to thee.

_Win._ So? Then we did well To wear these arms, for 'tis no less than Kent Whom we accuse.

_Hen._ Kent? Ha! We'll hear your tale That we may laugh at it.

_Win._ You'll sooner weep, I fear. The princess Adelais, of France, Is free of the infliction that impaired Her noble mind, and through the pope makes suit For the recovery of a son--her child And the great Henry's. Gualo brings this letter, Beneath the pope's own seal, to England's primate, His grace of Canterbury. It is signed By Geoffrey de Burgh, the father of your Kent, And written five years back to Adelais, In care of 's Holiness, with the request That it be given her should she recover. The purport is--her child has lived to be A grace to manhood, but that he himself Approaches death, and from his worthy son, Hubert de Burgh, she may in proper time Learn all a mother's heart would know.

_Hen._ Well plotted!

_Win._ And here's another paper that great Pembroke, Dying, laid in my hands. It bears the seal Of Henry Second, and tells how his son And Adelais' is given to the charge Of Geoffrey de Burgh, lord keeper of the Tower And Dover Castle.

_Hen._ Keep your paper, sir! Dost think that I'll believe these parchment tales Of one whose stainless past the world may read?

_Win._ That precious past, sire, is the bed whereon This deed's embossed. All he has done that's noble Now serves to make this foul. Look at him now! He has no word, but stands as one made stiff By sin's confrontment.

_Hen._ Rather like the god Was caught 'twixt the burning and the frozen worlds, For so my too-warm love and your deep hate Engulf him.

_Win._ Hear the end, my liege.

_Hen._ Go on, If there's an end.

_Win._ This says that Henry's son, Arrived at thirty years, shall take his place 'Mong English nobles as the Duke of Bedford, And hold in fief five castles, herein named Rockingham, Harle, Beham and Fotheringay, With strongest Bedford as his ducal seat; But if the child should die, his great estate Shall to the church, and in the church's name I call De Burgh to show the heir, or prove That he is dead and by no hidden means.

_Kent._ The devil, sir, must pay you bounteous hire, You sweat so in his service. Naught I know Of ghostly Bedford, or ever heard of him, Or that my father held a ward in charge.

_Hen._ We know you innocent.

_Win._ Then let him prove His claim to these five castles. Two he holds, And three were given in dowry with his sister When she became the wife of Albemarle. These must he yield, or show that Bedford lives, Else will the church by force possess its own.

_Alb._ Mad Winchester! You plot too heavy here. You know there are no stronger forts in England Than these three castles that the countess brought me. And you'd command their strength in wars against The power of the barons! Yield these forts? Not while I've breath to fight for what's my own! Geoffrey de Burgh received them from great Henry For secret, valiant service, such as knights Have rarely given kings. Talk you of force? My sword shall answer you. I will not yield, And here declare a war! What say you, barons?

_Pem._ Your cause is ours, and here we draw our swords!

_Alb._ You hear, lord bishop. Moreover we must take The person of the king, nor longer risk His majesty with traitors. Come, my liege.

_Cant._ What! Take the king?

_Alb._ Ay, take the king!

_Win._ While grace In Heaven lives, we'll keep him from your clutch!

_Alb._ While we are barons and can lift a sword, We will defy you and protect the king!

_Hen._ I am a monarch, and will go or stay As I do please. Lord barons, not with you.

_Pem._ Ah, must we force you, sir?

_Win._ Not from our hands!

_Alb._ An you do stir, my lord of Winchester, We'll wash these floors with blood!

_Cant._ The king is ours!

_Alb._ Swords write our title! Strike, my friends!

_Hen._ God, no!

_Win._ Stay, Albemarle! We do not well to waste The life of England. If we yield the king, Will you give up the castles?

_Pem._ [_To Albemarle_] Say you will. The king once ours we'll keep the castles, too.

_Alb._ [_To Winchester_] Then rest it there. Give us the king, and take The castles. [_Aside_] If you can. Ay, there'll be wars Will make each stone of England mine. The rocks And cliffs I'll mark with name of Albemarle!

_Win._ [_To Henry_] Think not I risk your dear and royal life. I'll call out troops till trees do seem to walk And cry for God and Henry! [_To barons_] To your care We yield the king.

_Pem._ Then, Henry, come with us.

_Hen._ Plain Henry, now thy crown is gilt

_Pem._ We'll put No pressure on your liberty save that We must t' enforce our charter rights.

_Win._ De Burgh Must to the Tower, there to await our judgment. Lords Goly and De Vere, conduct him thither.

_Goly._ Come, sir. You will not move?

_Kent._ O, Margaret, Your love divined too well! Now for the sword You bade me bring, and he who first should lay A hand upon me----

_De Vere._ Come!

_Pem._ [_To the king_] And you with us.

_Kent._ Hark, lamb, the wolves are at thee!

_Goly._ Must we move you?

_Abb._ [_Coming down_] Off with your hands, in warrior Michael's name! Touch not De Burgh! And you--lord barons--you Who blow the gentle fires of this new peace With wind of your hot tempers--free the king, And wait as fathers on his tender years!

_Alb._ I said, my lords, we should have prating here.

_Abb._ The midnight vision and long hours of prayer Give us strange powers, and we see thoughts burn In your intent would strike their fire against The stars of war and light disaster o'er A shuddering world. But you----

_Alb._ Back to your beads!

_Abb._ We'll count our heads in your fast dropping blood! Wouldst try our swords and see if they be keen? And if you scorn mine in a woman's hand, Here is the hand shall bear it to your woe.

[_Takes sword from under her cloak and gives it to Kent. All the nuns rise, drop their cloaks and show themselves to be armed men. The abbess throws off her hood and stands revealed as Margaret_]

_Hen._ My guards!

_Kent._ My soldiers!

_Mar._ Kent will not to Tower While Margaret of Scotland is his wife.

_Cant._ Princess, the day is yours, and I, for one, Thank Heaven 'tis so.

_Win._ And I.

_Mar._ Contentious lords, Forget one hour that ye are baron-peers, And churchmen clambering to the pinnacle Topped with a cardinal's cap. Think ye are men Of England, whose dear duty is to her, And swear ye brothers as ye are her sons. Down on your knees! Ask pardon of your king!

_Win._ [_Kneeling_] O, sovereign liege, in all I said and did My conscience led me and my God did counsel. If 'tis a sin to seek the punishment Of one whom we believe has wronged your blood, Then have we sinned indeed.

_Hen._ Wilt swear to drop This charge 'gainst noble Kent, whose honest soul Will cloak such guilt when north winds blow their frost From bosom of the sun?

_Win._ I swear, my lord, That your own lips shall be the first to make Renewal of this charge.

_Hen._ Rise, Winchester. You are forgiven, but not yet may take Your old place in our heart. [_Albemarle and Pembroke kneel_]

_Alb._ Were thoughts of men Writ on the heart's red walls, this sword, my liege, Should open mine that you might read me clear Of all intent save truest care for thee.

_Pem._ And I, my king, sought but the good of England In all too harshly crying for the rights Of your long loyal barons.

_Hen._ Rise, my lords. We hold you not attainted, but awhile Must look with careful coldness on your love, Till by your lives we test this swift repentance.

_Alb._ O sovereign merciful, we ask no more Than thus to prove us true.

_Hen._ Now let this day Be given as we intended, to His praise Whose eye doth search the closet of the dark As freely as the dayplains of the sun, And reads the minds of men where kings must trust.

[_Curtain_]

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