Part 26

HERBERT. Somewhere Between the Paris Gardens and the Bridge.

MARY. Or below Bridge--or haply in the Thames!

HERBERT. No matter where, so you do bring it back. Fly, Mercury! Here's feathers for thy heels. [_Giving coin._]

MARY [_aside_]. Weights, weights! [_Exit DICKON._]

[_HERBERT looks about him, opens the door of the taproom, grows troubled. She watches him with dissatisfaction, seeming to warm her feet by the fire meanwhile._]

HERBERT [_apart_]. I know this place. We used to come Together, he and I ...

MARY [_apart_]. Forgot again. O the capricious tides, the hateful calms, And the too eager ship that would be gone Adventuring against uncertain winds, For some new, utmost sight of Happy Isles! Becalmed,--becalmed ... But I will break this calm.

[_She sees the lute on the table, crosses and takes it up, running her fingers over the strings very softly. She sits._]

HERBERT. Ah, mermaid, is it you?

MARY. Did you sail far?

HERBERT. Not I; no, sooth. [_Crossing to her._] Mermaid, I would not think. But you--

MARY. I think not. I remember nothing. There's nothing in the world but you and me; All else is dust. Thou shalt not question me; Or if,--but as a sphinx in woman-shape: And when thou fail'st at answer, I shall turn, And rend thy heart and cast thee from the cliff.

[_She leans her head back against him, and he kisses her._]

So perish all who guess not what I am!... Oh, but I know you: you are April-Days. Nothing is sure, but all is beautiful!

[_She runs her fingers up the strings, one by one, and listens, speaking to the lute._]

Is it not so? Come, answer. Is it true? Speak, sweeting, since I love thee best of late, And have forsook my virginals for thee. _All's beautiful indeed and all unsure?_ _"Ay"_ ... (Did you hear?) _He's fair and faithless? "Ay."_ [_Speaking with the lute._]

HERBERT. Poor oracle, with only one reply!-- Wherein 'tis unlike thee.

MARY. _Can he love aught So well as his own image in the brook, Having once seen it?_

HERBERT. Ay!

MARY. The lute saith "_No."_ ... O dullard! Here were tidings, would you mark. What said I? _Oracle, can he love aught So dear as his own image in the brook, Having once looked_?... No, truly. [_With sudden abandon._] Nor can I!

HERBERT. O leave this game of words, you thousand-tongued. Sing, sing to me. So shall I be all yours Forever;--or at least till you be mute!... I used to wonder he should be thy slave: I wonder now no more. Your ways are wonders; You have a charm to make a man forget His past and yours, and everything but you.

MARY [_speaking_]. _"When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white"_-- How now?

HERBERT. "How now?" That song ... thou wilt sing that?

MARY. Marry, what mars the song?

HERBERT. Have you forgot Who made it?

MARY. Soft, what idleness! So fine? So rude? And bid me sing! You get but silence; Or, if I sing,--beshrew me, it shall be A dole of song, a little starveling breath As near to silence as a song can be.

[_She sings under-breath, fantastically._]

_Say how many kisses be Lent and lost twixt you and me? 'Can I tell when they begun?' Nay, but this were prodigal: Let us learn to count withal. Since no ending is to spending, Sum our riches, one by one. 'You shall keep the reckoning, Count each kiss while I do sing.'_

HERBERT. Oh, not these little wounds. You vex my heart; Heal it again with singing,--come, sweet, come. Into the garden! None shall trouble us. This place has memories and conscience too: Drown all, my mermaid. Wind them in your hair And drown them, drown them all.

[_He swings open the garden-door for her. At the same moment ANNE's voice is heard approaching._]

ANNE [_without_]. Some music there?

HERBERT. Perdition! Quick--behind me, love.

[_Swinging the door shut again, and looking through the crack._]

MARY. 'Tis she-- Nan Hughes, 'tis she! How came she here? By heaven, She crosses us to-day. Nan Hughes lights here In a Bank tavern! Nay, I'll not be seen. Sooner or later it must mean the wreck Of both ... should the Queen know.

HERBERT. The spite of chance! She talks with someone in the arbor there Whose face I see not. Come, here's doors at least.

[_They cross hastily. MARY opens the door on the left and looks within._]

MARY. Too thick.... I shall be penned. But guard you this And tell me when they're gone. Stay, stay;--mend all. If she have seen me,--swear it was not I. Heaven speed her home, with her new body-guard!

[_Exit, closing door. HERBERT looks out into the garden._]

HERBERT. By all accursed chances,--none but he!

[_Retires up to stand beside the door, looking out of casement. Re-enter from the garden, ANNE, followed by THE PLAYER._]

ANNE. No, 'twas some magic in my ears, I think. There's no one here. [_Seeing HERBERT._] But yes, there's someone here:-- The inn-keeper. Are you-- Saint Catherine's bones! My Lord of Herbert. Sir, you could not look More opportune. But for this gentleman--

HERBERT [_bowing_]. My friend, this long time since,--

ANNE. Marry, your friend?

THE PLAYER [_regarding HERBERT searchingly_]. This long time since.

ANNE. Nay, is it so, indeed? [_To HERBERT._] My day's fulfilled of blunders! O sweet sir, How can I tell you? But I'll tell you all If you'll but bear me escort from this place Where none of us belongs. Yours is the first Familiar face I've seen this afternoon!

HERBERT [_apart_]. A sweet assurance. [_Aloud._] But you seek ... you need Some rest--some cheer, some--Will you step within?

[_Indicating tap-room._]

The tavern is deserted, but--

ANNE. Not here! I've been here quite an hour. Come, citywards, To Whitehall! I have had enough of bears To quench my longing till next Whitsuntide. Down to the river, pray you.

HERBERT. Sooth, at once?

ANNE. At once, at once. [_To THE PLAYER._] I crave your pardon, sir, For sundering your friendships. I've heard say A woman always comes between two men To their confusion. You shall drink amends Some other day. I must be safely home.

THE PLAYER [_reassured by HERBERT's reluctance to go._] It joys me that your trials have found an end; And for the rest, I wish you prosperous voyage; Which needs not, with such halcyon weather toward.

HERBERT [_apart_]. It cuts: and yet he knows not. Can it pass? [_To him._] Let us meet soon. I have--I know not what To say--nay, no import; but chance has parted Our several ways too long. To leave you thus, Without a word--

ANNE. You are in haste, my lord! By the true faith, here are two friends indeed! Two lovers crossed: and I,--'tis I that bar them. Pray tarry, sir. I doubt not I may light Upon some link-boy to attend me home Or else a drunken prentice with a club, Or that patched keeper strolling from the Garden With all his dogs along; or failing them, A pony with a monkey on his back, Or, failing that, a bear! Some escort, sure, Such as the Borough offers! I shall look Part of a pageant from the Lady Fair, And boast for three full moons, "Such sights I saw!" Truly, 'tis new to me: but I doubt not I shall trick out a mind for strange adventure, As high as--Mistress Fytton!

HERBERT. Say no more, Dear lady! I entreat you pardon me The lameness of my wit. I'm stark adream; You lighted here so suddenly, unlooked for Vision in Bankside.... Let me hasten you, Now that I see I dream not. It grows late.

ANNE. And can you grant me such a length of time?

HERBERT. Length? Say Illusion! Time? Alas, 'twill be Only a poor half-hour [_loudly_], a poor half-hour! [_Apart._] Did she hear that, I wonder?

THE PLAYER [_bowing over ANNE's hand_]. Not so, madam; A little gold of largess, fallen to me By chance.

HERBERT [_to him_]. A word with you-- [_Apart._] O, I am gagged!

ANNE [_to THE PLAYER_]. You go with us, sir?

[_He moves towards door with them._]

THE PLAYER. No, I do but play Your inn-keeper.

HERBERT [_apart, despairingly_]. The eagle is gone blind.

[_Exeunt, leaving doors open. They are seen to go down the walk together. At the street they pause, THE PLAYER, bowing slowly, then turning back towards the inn; ANNE holding HERBERT's arm. Within, the door on the left opens slightly, then MARY appears._]

MARY. 'Tis true. My ears caught silence, if no more. They're gone....

[_She comes out of her hiding-place and opens the left-hand casement to see ANNE disappearing with HERBERT._]

She takes him with her! He'll return? Gone, gone, without a word; and I was caged,-- And deaf as well. O, spite of everything! She's so unlike.... How long shall I be here To wait and wonder? He with her--with her!

[_THE PLAYER, having come slowly back to the door, hears her voice. MARY darts towards the entrance to look after HERBERT and ANNE. She sees him and recoils. She falls back step by step, while he stands holding the door-posts with his hands, impassive._]

You!...

THE PLAYER. Yes.... [_After a pause._] And you.

MARY. Do you not ask me why I'm here?

THE PLAYER. I am not wont to shun the truth: But yet I think the reason you could give Were too uncomely.

MARY. Nay;--

THE PLAYER. If it were truth; If it were truth! Although that likelihood Scarce threatens.

MARY. So. Condemned without a trial.

THE PLAYER. O, speak the lie now. Let there be no chance For my unsightly love, bound head and foot, Stark, full of wounds and horrible,--to find Escape from out its charnel-house; to rise Unwelcome before eyes that had forgot, And say it died not truly. It should die. Play no imposture: leave it,--it is dead. I have been weak in that I tried to pour The wine through plague-struck veins. It came to life Over and over, drew sharp breath again In torture such as't may be to be born, If a poor babe could tell. Over and over, I tell you, it has suffered resurrection, Cheating its pain with hope, only to die Over and over;--die more deaths than men The meanest, most forlorn, are made to die By tyranny or nature.... Now I see all Clear. And I say, it shall not rise again. I am as safe from you as I were dead. I know you.

MARY. Herbert--

THE PLAYER. Do not touch his name. Leave that; I saw.

MARY. You saw? Nay, what?

THE PLAYER. The whole Clear story. Not at first. While you were hid, I took some comfort, drop by drop, and minute By minute. (Dullard!) Yet there was a maze Of circumstance that showed even then to me Perplext and strange. You here unravel it. All's clear: you are the clue. [_Turning away._]

MARY [_going to the casement_]. [_Apart._] Caged, caged! Does he know all? Why were those walls so dense? [_To him._] Nan Hughes hath seized the time to tune your mind To some light gossip. Say, how came she here?

THE PLAYER. All emulation, thinking to match you In high adventure:--liked it not, poor lady! And is gone home, attended.

[_Re-enter DICKON._]

DICKON [_to MARY_] They be lost!-- Thy mask and muffler;--'tis no help to search. Some hooker would 'a' swallowed 'em, be sure, As the whale swallows Jonas, in the show.

MARY. 'Tis nought: I care not.

DICKON [_looking at the fire_]. Hey, it wants a log.

[_While he mends the fire, humming, THE PLAYER stands taking thought. MARY speaks apart, going to casement again to look out._]

MARY [_apart_]. I will have what he knows. To cast me off:-- Not thus, not thus. Peace, I can blind him yet, Or he'll despise me. Nay, I will not be Thrust out at door like this. I will not go But by mine own free will. There is no power Can say what he might do to ruin us, To win Will Herbert from me,--almost mine, And I all his, all his--O April-Days!-- Well, friendship against love? I know who wins. He is grown dread.... But yet he is a man.

[_Exit DICKON into tap-room._]

[_To THE PLAYER, suavely._] Well, headsman?

[_He does not turn._]

Mind your office: I am judged. Guilty, was it not so?... What is to do, Do quickly.... Do you wait for some reprieve? Guilty, you said. Nay, do you turn your face To give me some small leeway of escape? And yet, I will not go ...

[_Coming down slowly._]

Well, headsman?... You ask not why I came here, Clouded Brow, Will you not ask me why I stay? No word? O blind, come lead the blind! For I, I too Lack sight and every sense to linger here And make me an intruder where I once Was welcome, oh most welcome, as I dreamed. Look on me, then. I do confess, I have Too often preened my feathers in the sun And thought to rule a little, by my wit. I have been spendthrift with men's offerings To use them like a nosegay,--tear apart, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf, until I found the heart all bare, the curious heart I longed to see for once, and cast away. And so, at first, with you.... Ah, now I think You're wise. There's nought so fair, so ... curious. So precious-rare to find as honesty. 'Twas all a child's play then, a counting-off Of petals. Now I know.... But ask me why I come unheralded, and in a mist Of circumstance and strangeness. Listen, love; Well then, dead love, if you will have it so. I have been cunning, cruel,--what you will: And yet the days of late have seemed too long Even for summer! Something called me here. And so I flung my pride away and came, A very woman for my foolishness, To say once more,--to say ...

THE PLAYER. Nay, I'll not ask. What lacks? I need no more, you have done well. 'Tis rare. There is no man I ever saw But you could school him. Women should be players. You are sovran in the art: feigning and truth Are so commingled in you. Sure, to you Nature's a simpleton hath never seen Her own face in the well. Is there aught else? To ask of my poor calling?

MARY. I deserved it In other days. Hear how I can be meek. I am come back, a foot-worn runaway, Like any braggart boy. Let me sit down And take Love's horn-book in my hands again And learn from the beginning;--by the rod, If you will scourge me, love. Come, come, forgive. I am not wont to sue: and yet to-day I am your suppliant, I am your servant, Your link-boy, ay, your minstrel: ay,--wilt hear?

[_Takes up the lute, and gives a last look out of the casement._]

The tumult in the streets is all apart With the discordant past. The hour that is Shall be the only thing in all the world. [_Apart._] I will be safe. He'll not win Herbert from me!

[_Crossing to him._]

Will you have music, good my lord?

THE PLAYER [_catching the lute from her._] Not that. Not that! By heaven, you shall not.... Nevermore.

MARY. So ... But you speak at last. You are, forsooth, A man: and you shall use me as my due;-- A woman, not the wind about your ears; A woman whom you loved.

THE PLAYER [_half-apart, still holding the lute_]. Why were you not That beauty that you seemed?... But had you been, 'Tis true, you would have had no word for me,-- No looks of love!

MARY. The man reproaches me?

THE PLAYER. Not I--not I.... Will Herbert, what am I To lay this broken trust to you,--to you, Young, free, and tempted: April on his way, Whom all hands reach for, and this woman here Had set her heart upon!

MARY. What fantasy! Surely he must have been from town of late, To see the gude-folks! And how fare they, sir? Reverend yeoman, say, how thrive the sheep? What did the harvest yield you?--Did you count The cabbage heads? and find how like ... nay, nay! But our gude-wife, did she bid in the neighbors To prove them that her husband was no myth? Some Puritan preacher, nay, some journeyman, To make you sup the sweeter with long prayers? This were a rare conversion, by my soul! From sonnets unto sermons:--eminent!

THE PLAYER. Oh, yes, your scorn bites truly: sermons next. There is so much to say. But it must be learned, And I require hard schooling, dream too much On what I would men were,--but women most. I need the cudgel of the task-master To make me con the truth. Yes, blind, you called me, And 'tis my shame I bandaged mine own eyes And held them dark. Now, by the grace of God, Or haply because the devil tries too far, I tear the blindfold off, and I see all. I see you as you are; and in your heart The secret love sprung up for one I loved, A reckless boy who has trodden on my soul-- But that's a thing apart, concerns not you. I know that you will stake your heaven and earth To fool me,--fool us both.

MARY [_with idle interest_]. Why were you not So stern a long time since? You're not so wise As I have heard them say.

THE PLAYER [_standing by the chimney_]. Wise? Oh, not I. Who was so witless as to call me wise? Sure he had never bade me a good-day And seen me take the cheer.... I was your fool Too long.... I am no longer anything. Speak: what are you?

MARY [_after a pause_]. The foolishest of women: A heart that should have been adventurer On the high seas; a seeker in new lands, To dare all and to lose. But I was made A woman. Oh, you see!--could you see all. What if I say ... the truth is not so far,

[_Watching him._]

Yet farther than you dream. If I confess ... He charmed my fancy ... for the moment,--ay The shine of his fortunes too, the very name Of Pembroke?... Dear my judge,--ay, clouded brow And darkened fortune, be not black to me! I'd try for my escape; the window's wide, No one forbids, and yet I stay--I stay.

Oh, I was niggard, once, unkind--I know, Untrusty: loved, unloved you, day by day: A little and a little,--why, I knew not, And more, and wondered why;--then not at all: Drank up the dew from out your very heart, Like the extortionate sun, to leave you parched Till, with as little grace, I flung all back In gusts of angry rain! I have been cruel. But the spell works; yea, love, the spell, the spell Fed by your fasting, by your subtlety Past all men's knowledge.... There is something rare About you that I long to flee and cannot:-- Some mastery ... that's more my will than I.

[_She laughs softly. He listens, looking straight ahead, not at her, immobile, but suffering evidently. She watches his face and speaks with greater intensity. Here she crosses nearer and falls on her knees._]

Ah, look: you shall believe, you shall believe. Will you put by your Music? Was I that? Your Music,--very Music?... Listen, then, Turn not so blank a face. Thou hast my love. I'll tell thee so till thought itself shall tire And fall a-dreaming like a weary child, ... Only to dream of you, and in its sleep To murmur You.... Ah, look at me, love, lord ... Whom queens would honor. Read these eyes you praised, That pitied, once,--that sue for pity now. But look! You shall not turn from me--

THE PLAYER. Eyes, eyes!-- The darkness hides so much.

MARY. He'll not believe.... What can I do? What more,--what more, you ... man? I bruise my heart here, at an iron gate....

[_She regards him half gloomily without rising._]

Yet there is one thing more.... You'll take me, now?-- My meaning.... You were right. For once I say it. There is a glory of discovery [_ironically_] To the black heart ... because it may be known But once,--but once.... I wonder men will hide Their motives all so close. If they could guess,-- It is so new to feel the open day Look in on all one's hidings, at the end. So.... You were right. The first was all a lie: A lie, and for a purpose.... Now,--[_she rises and stands off, regarding him abruptly_], And why, I know not,--but 'tis true, at last, I do believe ... I love you. Look at me!

[_He stands by the fireside against the chimney-piece. She crosses to him with passionate appeal, holding out her arms. He turns his eyes and looks at her with a rigid scrutiny. She endures it for a second, then wavers; makes an effort, unable to look away, to lift her arms towards his neck; they falter and fall at her side. The two stand spellbound by mutual recognition. Then she speaks in a low voice._]

MARY. Oh, let me go!

[_She turns her head with an effort,--gathers her cloak about her, then hastens out as if from some terror._]

[_THE PLAYER is alone beside the chimney-piece. The street outside is darkening with twilight through the casements and upper door. There is a sound of rough-throated singing that comes by and is softened with distance. It breaks the spell._]

THE PLAYER. So; it is over ... now. [_He looks into the fire._]

"_Fair, kind, and true." And true!_... My golden Friend. Those two ... together.... He was ill at ease. But that he should betray me with a kiss!

By this preposterous world ... I am in need. Shall there be no faith left? Nothing but names? Then he's a fool who steers his life by such. Why not the body-comfort of this herd Of creatures huddled here to keep them warm?-- Trying to drown out with enforced laughter The query of the winds ... unanswered winds That vex the soul with a perpetual doubt. What holds me?... Bah, that were a Cause, indeed! To prove your soul one truth, by being it,-- Against the foul dishonor of the world! How else prove aught?... I talk into the air. And at my feet, my honor full of wounds. Honor? Whose honor? For I knew my sin, And she ... had none. There's nothing to avenge.

[_He speaks with more and more passion, too distraught to notice interruptions. Enter DICKON, with a tallow-dip. He regards THE PLAYER with half-open mouth from the corner; then stands by the casement, leaning up against it and yawning now and then._]

I had no right: that I could call her mine So none should steal her from me, and die for't. There's nothing to avenge ... Brave beggary! How fit to lodge me in this home of Shows, With all the ruffian life, the empty mirth, The gross imposture of humanity, Strutting in virtues it knows not to wear, Knave in a stolen garment--all the same-- Until it grows enamored of a life It was not born to,--falls a-dream, poor cheat, In the midst of its native shams,--the thieves and bears And ballad-mongers all!... Of such am I.

[_Re-enter TOBIAS and one or two TAVERNERS. TOBIAS regards THE PLAYER, who does not notice anyone,--then leads off DICKON by the ear. Exeunt into taproom. THE PLAYER goes to the casement, pushes it wide open, and gazes out at the sky._]

Is there naught else?... I could make shift to bind My heart up and put on my mail again, To cheat myself and death with one fight more, If I could think there were some worldly use For bitter wisdom. But I'm no general, That my own hand-to-hand with evil days Should cheer my doubting thousands.... I'm no more Than one man lost among a multitude; And in the end dust swallows them--and me, And the good sweat that won our victories. Who sees? Or seeing, cares? Who follows on? Then why should my dishonor trouble me, Or broken faith in him? _What is it suffers? And why?_ Now that the moon is turned to blood.

[_He turns towards the door with involuntary longing, and seems to listen._]