Title: A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
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Author: Robert Browning
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A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
Robert Browning
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Table of Contents
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon...................................................................................................................................1
Robert Browning ......................................................................................................................................1
INTRODUCTORY NOTE......................................................................................................................1
ACT I......................................................................................................................................................2
ACT II ...................................................................................................................................................17
ACT III ..................................................................................................................................................30
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
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A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
Robert Browning
Introductory Note
Act I
Act II
Act III
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
ROBERT BROWNING stands, in respect to his origin and his career, in marked contrast to the two
aristocratic poets beside whose dramas his "Blot in the 'Scutcheon" is here printed. His father was a bank
clerk and a dissenter at a time when dissent meant exclusion from Society; the poet went neither to one of the
great public schools nor to Oxford or Cambridge; and no breath of scandal touched his name. Born in London
in 1812, he was educated largely by private tutors, and spent two years at London University, but the
influence of his father, a man of wide reading and cultivated tastes, was probably the most important element
in his early training. He drew well, was something of a musician, and wrote verses from an early age, though
it was the accidental reading of a volume of Shelley which first kindled his real inspiration. This indebtedness
is beautifully acknowledged in his first published poem, "Pauline" (1833).
Apart from frequent visits to Italy, there is little of incident to chronicle in Browning's life, with the one great
exception of his more than fortunate marriage in 1846 to Elizabeth Barrett, the greatest of English poetesses.
Browning's dramatic period extended from 1835 to the time of his marriage, and produced some nine plays,
not all of which, however, were intended for the stage. "Paracelsus," the first of the series, has been fairly
described as a "conversational drama," and "Pippa Passes," though it has been staged, is essentially a poem to
read. The historical tragedy of "Strafford" has been impressively performed, but "King Victor and King
Charles," "The Return of the Druses," "Colombe's Birthday," "A Soul's Tragedy," and "Luria," while
interesting in many ways, can hardly be regarded as successful stageplays. "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon" was
performed at Drury Lane, but its chances of a successful run were spoiled by the jealousy of Macready, the
manager.
The main cause of Browning's weakness as a playwright lay in the fact that he was so much more interested
in psychology than in action. But in the present tragedy this defect is less prominent than usual, and in spite
of flaws in construction, it reaches a high pitch of emotional intensity, the characters are drawn with
vividness, and the lines are rich in poetry.
A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON
A TRAGEDY
(1843)
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MILDRED TRESHAM.
GUENDOLEN TRESHAM.
THOROLD, Earl Tresham.
AUSTIN TRESHAM.
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon 1
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HENRY, Earl Mertoun.
GERARD, and other retainers of Lord Tresham.
Time, 17
ACT I
SCENE I.The Interior of a Lodge in Lord Tresham's Park.
Many Retainers crowded at the window, supposed to command
a view of the entrance to his Mansion.
GERARD, the Warrener, his back to a table on which are flagons,
etc.
FIRST RETAINER. Ay, do! push, friends, and then you'll push down me!
What for? Does any hear a runner's foot
Or a steed's trample or a coachwheel's cry?
Is the Earl come or his least poursuivant?
But there's no breeding in a man of you
Save Gerard yonder: here's a halfplace yet,
Old Gerard!
GERARD. Save your courtesies, my friend. Here is my place.
SECOND RETAINER. Now, Gerard, out with it!
What makes you sullen, this of all the days
I' the year? Today that young rich bountiful
Handsome Earl Mertoun, whom alone they match
With our Lord Tresham through the countryside,
Is coming here in utmost bravery
To ask our master's sister's hand?
GERARD. What then?
SECOND RETAINER. What then? Why, you, she speaks to, if she meets
Your worship, smiles on as you hold apart
The boughs to let her through her forest walks,
You, always favourite for your nodeserts,
You've heard, these three days, how Earl Mertoun sues
To lay his heart and house and broad lands too
At Lady Mildred's feet: and while we squeeze
Ourselves into a mousehole lest we miss
One congee of the least page in his train,
You sit o' one side"there's the Earl," say I
"What then?" say you!
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 2
Page No 5
THIRD RETAINER. I'll wager he has let
Both swans he tamed for Lady Mildred swim
Over the falls and gain the river!
GERARD. Ralph,
Is not tomorrow my inspectingday
For you and for your hawks?
FOURTH RETAINER. Let Gerard be!
He's coarsegrained, like his carved black crossbow stock.
Ha, look now, while we squabble with him, look!
Well done, nowis not this beginning, now,
To purpose?
FIRST RETAINER. Our retainers look as fine
That's comfort. Lord, how Richard holds himself
With his white staff! Will not a knave behind
Prick him upright?
FOURTH RETAINER. He's only bowing, fool!
The Earl's man bent us lower by this much.
FIRST RETAINER. That's comfort. Here's a very cavalcade!
THIRD RETAINER. I don't see wherefore Richard, and his troop
Of silk and silver varlets there, should find
Their perfumed selves so indispensable
On high days, holidays! Would it so disgrace
Our family, if I, for instance, stood
In my right hand a cast of Swedish hawks,
A leash of greyhounds in my left?
GERARD. With Hugh
The logman for supporter, in his right
The billhook, in his left the brushwoodshears!
THIRD RETAINER. Out on you, crab! What next, what next? The Earl!
FIRST RETAINER. Oh Walter, groom, our horses, do they match
The Earl's? Alas, that first pair of the six
They paw the groundAh Walter! and that brute
Just on his haunches by the wheel!
SIXTH RETAINER. Ayay!
You, Philip, are a special hand, I hear,
At soups and sauces: what's a horse to you?
D'ye mark that beast they've slid into the midst
So cunningly?then, Philip, mark this further;
No leg has he to stand on!
FIRST RETAINER. No? that's comfort.
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 3
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SECOND RETAINER. Peace, Cook! The Earl descends. Well, Gerard, see
The Earl at least! Come, there's a proper man,
I hope! Why, Ralph, no falcon, Pole or Swede,
Has got a starrier eye.
THIRD RETAINER. His eyes are blue:
But leave my hawks alone!
FOURTH RETAINER. So young, and yet
So tall and shapely!
FIFTH RETAINER. Here's Lord Tresham's self!
There nowthere's what a nobleman should be!
He's older, graver, loftier, he's more like
A House's head.
SECOND RETAINER. But you'd not have a boy
And what's the Earl beside?possess too soon
That stateliness?
FIRST RETAINER. Our master takes his hand
Richard and his white staff are on the move
Back fall our people(tsh!there's Timothy
Sure to get tangled in his ribbonties,
And Peter's cursed rosette's acoming off!)
At last I see our lord's back and his friend's;
And the whole beautiful bright company
Close round themin they go!
[Jumping down from the windowbench, and making for
the table and its jugs.]
Good health, long life,
Great joy to our Lord Tresham and his House!
SIXTH RETAINER. My father drove his father first to court,
After his marriagedayay, did he!
SECOND RETAINER. God bless
Lord Tresham, Lady Mildred, and the Earl!
Here, Gerard, reach your beaker!
GERARD. Drink, my boys!
Don't mind meall's not right about medrink!
SECOND RETAINER [aside].
He's vexed, now, that he let the show escape!
[To GERARD.]
Remember that the Earl returns this way.
GERARD. That way?
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ACT I 4
Page No 7
SECOND RETAINER. Just so.
GERARD. Then my way's here.
[Goes.]
SECOND RETAINER. Old Gerard
Will die soonmind, I said it! He was used
To care about the pitifullest thing
That touched the House's honour, not an eye
But his could see wherein: and on a cause
Of scarce a quarter this importance, Gerard
Fairly had fretted flesh and bone away
In cares that this was right, nor that was wrong,
Such point decorous, and such square by rule
He knew such niceties, no herald more:
And nowyou see his humour: die he will!
SECOND RETAINER. God help him! Who's for the great servants' hall
To hear what's going on inside! They'd follow
Lord Tresham into the saloon.
THIRD RETAINER. I!
FOURTH RETAINER. I!
Leave Frank alone for catching, at the door,
Some hint of how the parley goes inside!
Prosperity to the great House once more!
Here's the last drop!
FIRST RETAINER. Have at you! Boys, hurrah!
SCENE II.A Saloon in the Mansion
Enter LORD TRESHAM, LORD MERTOUN, AUSTIN, and GUENDOLEN
TRESHAM. I welcome you, Lord Mertoun, yet once more,
To this ancestral roof of mine. Your name
Noble among the noblest in itself,
Yet taking in your person, fame avers,
New price and lustre,(as that gem you wear,
Transmitted from a hundred knightly breasts,
Fresh chased and set and fixed by its last lord,
Seems to rekindle at the core)your name
Would win you welcome!
MERTOUN. Thanks!
TRESHAM. But add to that,
The worthiness and grace and dignity
Of your proposal for uniting both
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 5
Page No 8
Our Houses even closer than respect
Unites them nowadd these, and you must grant
One favour more, nor that the least,to think
The welcome I should give;'tis given! My lord,
My only brother, Austin: he's the king's.
Our cousin, Lady Guendolenbetrothed
To Austin: all are yours.
MERTOUN. I thank youless
For the expressed commendings which your seal,
And only that, authenticatesforbids
My putting from me... to my heart I take
Your praise... but praise less claims my gratitude,
Than the indulgent insight it implies
Of what must needs be uppermost with one
Who comes, like me, with the bare leave to ask,
In weighed and measured unimpassioned words,
A gift, which, if as calmly 'tis denied,
He must withdraw, content upon his cheek,
Despair within his soul. That I dare ask
Firmly, near boldly, near with confidence
That gift, I have to thank you. Yes, Lord Tresham,
I love your sisteras you'd have one love
That lady... oh more, more I love her! Wealth,
Rank, all the world thinks me, they're yours, you know,
To hold or part with, at your choicebut grant
My true self, me without a rood of land,
A piece of gold, a name of yesterday,
Grant me that lady, and you... Death or life?
GUENDOLEN. [apart to AUSTIN]. Why, this is loving,
Austin!
AUSTIN. He's so young!
GUENDOLEN. Young? Old enough, I think, to half surmise
He never had obtained an entrance here,
Were all this fear and trembling needed.
AUSTIN. Hush!
He reddens.
GUENDOLEN. Mark him, Austin; that's true love!
Ours must begin again.
TRESHAM. We'll sit, my lord.
Ever with best desert goes diffidence.
I may speak plainly nor be misconceived
That I am wholly satisfied with you
On this occasion, when a falcon's eye
Were dull compared with mine to search out faults,
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 6
Page No 9
Is somewhat. Mildred's hand is hers to give
Or to refuse.
MERTOUN. But you, you grant my suit?
I have your word if hers?
TRESHAM. My best of words
If hers encourage you. I trust it will.
Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way?
MERTOUN. I... I... our two demesnes, remember, touch,
I have beer used to wander carelessly
After my stricken game: the heron roused
Deep in my woods, has trailed its broken wing
Thro' thicks and glades a mile in yours,or else
Some eyass illreclaimed has taken flight
And lured me after her from tree to tree,
I marked not whither. I have come upon
The lady's wondrous beauty unaware,
Andand then... I have seen her.
GUENDOLEN [aside to AUSTIN]. Note that mode
Of faltering out that, when a lady passed,
He, having eyes, did see her! You had said
"On such a day I scanned her, head to foot;
Observed a red, where red should not have been,
Outside her elbow; but was pleased enough
Upon the whole." Let such irreverent talk
Be lessoned for the future!
TRESHAM. What's to say
May be said briefly. She has never known
A mother's care; I stand for father too.
Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems
You cannot know the good and tender heart,
Its girl's trust and its woman's constancy,
How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind,
How grave yet joyous, how reserved yet free
As light where friends arehow imbued with lore
The world most prizes, yet the simplest, yet
The... one might know I talked of Mildredthus
We brothers talk!
MERTOUN. I thank you.
TRESHAM. In a word,
Control's not for this lady; but her wish
To please me outstrips in its subtlety
My power of being pleased: herself creates
The want she means to satisfy. My heart
Prefers your suit to her as 'twere its own.
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 7
Page No 10
Can I say more?
MERTOUN. No morethanks, thanksno more!
TRESHAM. This matter then discussed...
MERTOUN. We'll waste no breath
On aught less precious. I'm beneath the roof
Which holds her: while I thought of that, my speech
To you would wanderas it must not do,
Since as you favour me I stand or fall.
I pray you suffer that I take my leave!
TRESHAM. With less regret 'tis suffered, that again
We meet, I hope, so shortly.
MERTOUN. We? again?
Ah yes, forgive mewhen shall... you will crown
Your goodness by forthwith apprising me
When... if... the lady will appoint a day
For me to wait on youand her.
TRESHAM. So soon
As I am made acquainted with her thoughts
On your proposalhowsoe'er they lean
A messenger shall bring you the result.
MERTOUN. You cannot bind me more to you, my lord.
Farewell till we renew... I trust, renew
A converse ne'er to disunite again.
TRESHAM. So may it prove!
MERTOUN. You, lady, you, sir, take
My humble salutation!
GUENDOLEN and AUSTIN. Thanks!
TRESHAM. Within there!
[Servants enter. TRESHAM conducts MERTOUN to the door.
Meantime AUSTIN remarks,]
Well,
Here I have an advantage of the Earl,
Confess now! I'd not think that all was safe
Because my lady's brother stood my friend!
Why, he makes sure of her"do you say yes
She'll not say, no,"what comes it to beside?
I should have prayed the brother, "speak this speech,
For Heaven's sake urge this on herput in this
Forget not, as you'd save me, t'other thing,
Then set down what she says, and how she looks,
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 8
Page No 11
And if she smiles, and" (in an under breath)
"Only let her accept me, and do you
And all the world refuse me, if you dare!"
GUENDOLEN. That way you'd take, friend Austin? What a shame
I was your cousin, tamely from the first
Your bride, and all this fervour's run to waste!
Do you know you speak sensibly today?
The Earl's a fool.
AUSTIN. Here's Thorold. Tell him so!
TRESHAM [returning]. Now, voices, voices! 'St! the lady's first!
How seems he?seems he not... come, faith give fraud
The mercystroke whenever they engage!
Down with fraud, up with faith! How seems the Earl?
A name! a blazon! if you knew their worth,
As you will never! comethe Earl?
GUENDOLEN. He's young.
TRESHAM. What's she? an infant save in heart and brain.
Young! Mildred is fourteen, remark! And you...
Austin, how old is she?
GUENDOLEN. There's tact for you!
I meant that being young was good excuse
If one should tax him...
TRESHAM. Well?
GUENDOLEN. With lacking wit.
TRESHAM. He lacked wit? Where might he lack wit, so please you?
GUENDOLEN. In standing straighter than the steward's rod
And making you the tiresomest harangue,
Instead of slipping over to my side
And softly whispering in my ear, "Sweet lady,
Your cousin there will do me detriment
He little dreams of: he's absorbed, I see,
In my old name and famebe sure he'll leave
My Mildred, when his best account of me
Is ended, in full confidence I wear
My grandsire's periwig down either cheek.
I'm lost unless your gentleness vouchsafes"...
TRESHAM... "To give a best of best accounts, yourself,
Of me and my demerits." You are right!
He should have said what now I say for him.
Yon golden creature, will you help us all?
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 9
Page No 12
Here's Austin means to vouch for much, but you
You are... what Austin only knows! Come up,
All three of us: she's in the library
No doubt, for the day's wearing fast. Precede!
GUENDOLEN. Austin, how we must!
TRESHAM. Must what? Must speak truth,
Malignant tongue! Detect one fault in him!
I challenge you!
GUENDOLEN. Witchcraft's a fault in him,
For you're bewitched.
TRESHAM. What's urgent we obtain
Is, that she soon receive himsay, tomorrow,
Next day at furthest.
GUENDOLEN. Ne'er instruct me!
TRESHAM. Come!
He's out of your good graces, since forsooth,
He stood not as he'd carry us by storm
With his perfections! You're for the composed
Manly assured becoming confidence!
Get her to say, "tomorrow," and I'll give you...
I'll give you black Urganda, to be spoiled
With petting and snailpaces. Will you? Come!
SCENE III.
MILDRED'S Chamber. A Painted Window overlooks the Park
MILDRED and GUENDOLEN
GUENDOLEN. Now, Mildred, spare those pains. I have not left
Our talkers in the library, and climbed
The wearisome ascent to this your bower
In company with you,I have not dared...
Nay, worked such prodigies as sparing you
Lord Mertoun's pedigree before the flood,
Which Thorold seemed in very act to tell
Or bringing Austin to pluck up that most
Firmrooted heresyyour suitor's eyes,
He would maintain, were grey instead of blue
I think I brought him to contrition!Well,
I have not done such things, (all to deserve
A minute's quiet cousin's talk with you,)
To be dismissed so coolly.
MILDRED. Guendolen!
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ACT I 10
Page No 13
What have I done? what could suggest...
GUENDOLEN. There, there!
Do I not comprehend you'd be alone
To throw those testimonies in a heap,
Thorold's enlargings, Austin's brevities,
With that poor silly heartless Guendolen's
Illtime misplaced attempted smartnesses
And sift their sense out? now, I come to spare you
Nearly a whole night's labour. Ask and have!
Demand, be answered! Lack I ears and eyes?
Am I perplexed which side of the rocktable
The Conqueror dined on when he landed first,
Lord Mertoun's ancestor was bidden take
The bowhand or the arrowhand's great meed?
Mildred, the Earl has soft blue eyes!
MILDRED. My brother
Did he... you said that he received him well?
GUENDOLEN. If I said only "well" I said not much.
Oh, staywhich brother?
MILDRED. Thorold! whoWho else?
GUENDOLEN. Thorold (a secret) is too proud by half,
Nay, hear me outwith us he's even gentler
Than we are with our birds. Of this great House
The least retainer that e'er caught his glance
Would die for him, real dyingno mere talk:
And in the world, the court, if men would cite
The perfect spirit of honour, Thorold's name
Rises of its clear nature to their lips.
But he should take men's homage, trust in it,
And care no more about what drew it down.
He has desert, and that, acknowledgment;
Is he content?
MILDRED. You wrong him, Guendolen.
GUENDOLEN. He's proud, confess; so proud with brooding o'er
The light of his interminable line,
An ancestry with men all paladins,
And women all...
MILDRED. Dear Guendolen, 'tis late!
When yonder purple pane the climbing moon
Pierces, I know 'tis midnight.
GUENDOLEN. Well, that Thorold
Should rise up from such musings, and receive
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ACT I 11
Page No 14
One come audaciously to graft himself
Into this peerless stock, yet find no flaw,
No slightest spot in such an one...
MILDRED. Who finds
A spot in Mertoun?
GUENDOLEN. Not your brother; therefore,
Not the whole world.
MILDRED. I am weary, Guendolen.
Bear with me!
GUENDOLEN. I am foolish.
MILDRED. Oh no, kind!
But I would rest.
GUENDOLEN. Good night and rest to you!
I said how gracefully his mantle lay
Beneath the rings of his light hair?
MILDRED. Brown hair.
GUENDOLEN. Brown? why, it IS brown: how could you know that?
MILDRED. How? did not youOh, Austin 'twas, declared
His hair was light, not brownmy head!and look,
The moonbeam purpling the dark chamber! Sweet,
Good night!
GUENDOLEN. Forgive mesleep the soundlier for me!
[Going, she turns suddenly.]
Mildred!
Perdition! all's discovered! Thorold finds
That the Earl's greatest of all grandmothers
Was grander daughter stillto that fair dame
Whose garter slipped down at the famous dance!
[Goes.]
MILDRED. Is shecan she be really gone at last?
My heart! I shall not reach the window. Needs
Must I have sinned much, so to suffer.
[She lifts the small lamp which is suspended before the Virgin's
image in the window, and places it by the purple pane.]
There!
[She returns to the seat in front.]
Mildred and Mertoun! Mildred, with consent
Of all the world and Thorold, Mertoun's bride!
Too late! 'Tis sweet to think of, sweeter still
To hope for, that this blessed end soothes up
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ACT I 12
Page No 15
The curse of the beginning; but I know
It comes too late: 'twill sweetest be of all
To dream my soul away and die upon.
[A noise without.]
The voice! Oh why, why glided sin the snake
Into the paradise Heaven meant us both?
[The window opens softly. A low voice sings.]
There's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the
surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wildgrape
cluster,
Gush in golden tinted plenty down her neck's rosemisted marble:
Then her voice's music... call it the well's bubbling, the bird's
warble!
[A figure wrapped in a mantle appears at the window.]
And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were
moonless,
Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's outbreak
tuneless,
If you loved me not!" And I who(ah, for words of flame!) adore
her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her
[He enters, approaches her seat, and bends over her.]
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
[The EARL throws off his slouched hat and long cloak.]
My very heart sings, so I sing, Beloved!
MILDRED. Sit, Henrydo not take my hand!
MERTOUN. 'Tis mine.
The meeting that appalled us both so much
Is ended.
MILDRED. What begins now?
MERTOUN. Happiness
Such as the world contains not.
MILDRED. That is it.
Our happiness would, as you say, exceed
The whole world's best of blisses: wedo we
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ACT I 13
Page No 16
Deserve that? Utter to your soul, what mine
Long since, Beloved, has grown used to hear,
Like a deathknell, so much regarded once,
And so familiar now; this will not be!
MERTOUN. Oh, Mildred, have I met your brother's face?
Compelled myselfif not to speak untruth,
Yet to disguise, to shun, to put aside
The truth, aswhat had e'er prevailed on me
Save you to venture? Have I gained at last
Your brother, the one scarer of your dreams,
And waking thoughts' sole apprehension too?
Does a new life, like a young sunrise, break
On the strange unrest of our night, confused
With rain and stormy flawand will you see
No dripping blossoms, no firetinted drops
On each live spray, no vapour steaming up,
And no expressless glory in the East?
When I am by you, to be ever by you,
When I have won you and may worship you,
Oh, Mildred, can you say "this will not be"?
MILDRED. Sin has surprised us, so will punishment.
MERTOUN. Nome alone, who sinned alone!
MILDRED. The night
You likened our past life towas it storm
Throughout to you then, Henry?
MERTOUN. Of your life
I spokewhat am I, what my life, to waste
A thought about when you are by me?you
It was, I said my folly called the storm
And pulled the night upon. 'Twas day with me
Perpetual dawn with me.
MILDRED. Come what, come will,
You have been happy: take my hand!
MERTOUN [after a pause]. How good
Your brother is! I figured him a cold
Shall I say, haughty man?
MILDRED. They told me all.
I know all.
MERTOUN. It will soon be over.
MILDRED. Over?
Oh, what is over? what must I live through
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ACT I 14
Page No 17
And say, "'tis over"? Is our meeting over?
Have I received in presence of them all
The partner of my guilty lovewith brow
Trying to seem a maiden's browwith lips
Which make believe that when they strive to form
Replies to you and tremble as they strive,
It is the nearest ever they approached
A stranger's... Henry, yours that stranger's... lip
With cheek that looks a virgin's, and that is...
Ah God, some prodigy of thine will stop
This planned piece of deliberate wickedness
In its birth even! some fierce leprous spot
Will mar the brow's dissimulating! I
Shall murmur no smooth speeches got by heart,
But, frenzied, pour forth all our woeful story,
The love, the shame, and the despairwith them
Round me aghast as round some cursed fount
That should spirt water, and spouts blood. I'll not
...Henry, you do not wish that I should draw
This vengeance down? I'll not affect a grace
That's gone from megone once, and gone for ever!
MERTOUN. Mildred, my honour is your own. I'll share
Disgrace I cannot suffer by myself.
A word informs your brother I retract
This morning's offer; time will yet bring forth
Some better way of saving both of us.
MILDRED. I'll meet their faces, Henry!
MERTOUN. When? tomorrow!
Get done with it!
MILDRED. Oh, Henry, not tomorrow!
Next day! I never shall prepare my words
And looks and gestures sooner.How you must
Despise me!
MERTOUN. Mildred, break it if you choose,
A heart the love of you upliftedstill
Uplifts, thro' this protracted agony,
To heaven! but Mildred, answer me,first pace
The chamber with meonce againnow, say
Calmly the part, the... what it is of me
You see contempt (for you did say contempt)
Contempt for you in! I would pluck it off
And cast it from me!but nono, you'll not
Repeat that?will you, Mildred, repeat that?
MILDRED. Dear Henry!
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 15
Page No 18
MERTOUN. I was scarce a boye'en now
What am I more? And you were infantine
When first I met you; why, your hair fell loose
On either side! My fool'scheek reddens now
Only in the recalling how it burned
That morn to see the shape of many a dream
You know we boys are prodigal of charms
To her we dream ofI had heard of one,
Had dreamed of her, and I was close to her,
Might speak to her, might live and die her own,
Who knew? I spoke. Oh, Mildred, feel you not
That now, while I remember every glance
Of yours, each word of yours, with power to test
And weigh them in the diamond scales of pride,
Resolved the treasure of a first and last
Heart's love shall have been bartered at its worth,
That now I think upon your purity
And utter ignorance of guiltyour own
Or other's guiltthe girlish undisguised
Delight at a strange novel prize(I talk
A silly language, but interpret, you!)
If I, with fancy at its full, and reason
Scarce in its germ, enjoined you secrecy,
If you had pity on my passion, pity
On my protested sickness of the soul
To sit beside you, hear you breathe, and watch
Your eyelids and the eyes beneathif you
Accorded gifts and knew not they were gifts
If I grew mad at last with enterprise
And must behold my beauty in her bower
Or perish(I was ignorant of even
My own desireswhat then were you?) if sorrow
Sinif the end camemust I now renounce
My reason, blind myself to light, say truth
Is false and lie to God and my own soul?
Contempt were all of this!
MILDRED. Do you believe...
Or, Henry, I'll not wrong youyou believe
That I was ignorant. I scarce grieve o'er
The past. We'll love on; you will love me still.
MERTOUN. Oh, to love less what one has injured! Dove,
Whose pinion I have rashly hurt, my breast
Shall my heart's warmth not nurse thee into strength?
Flower I have crushed, shall I not care for thee?
Bloom o'er my crest, my fightmark and device!
Mildred, I love you and you love me.
MILDRED. Go!
Be that your last word. I shall sleep tonight.
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT I 16
Page No 19
MERTOUN. This is not our last meeting?
MILDRED. One night more.
MERTOUN. And thenthink, then!
MILDRED. Then, no sweet courtshipdays,
No dawning consciousness of love for us,
No strange and palpitating births of sense
>From words and looks, no innocent fears and hopes,
Reserves and confidences: morning's over!
MERTOUN. How else should love's perfected noontide follow?
All the dawn promised shall the day perform.
MILDRED. So may it be! but
You are cautious, Love?
Are sure that unobserved you scaled the walls?
MERTOUN. Oh, trust me! Then our final meeting's fixed
Tomorrow night?
MILDRED. Farewell! stay, Henry... wherefore?
His foot is on the yewtree bough; the turf
Receives him: now the moonlight as he runs
Embraces himbut he must gois gone.
Ah, once again he turnsthanks, thanks, my Love!
He's gone. Oh, I'll believe him every word!
I was so young, I loved him so, I had
No mother, God forgot me, and I fell.
There may be pardon yet: all's doubt beyond!
Surely the bitterness of death is past.
ACT II
SCENE.The Library
Enter LORD TRESHAM, hastily
TRESHAM. This way! In, Gerard, quick!
[As GERARD enters, TRESHAM secures the door.]
Now speak! or, wait
I'll bid you speak directly.
[Seats himself.]
Now repeat
Firmly and circumstantially the tale
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 17
Page No 20
You just now told me; it eludes me; either
I did not listen, or the half is gone
Away from me. How long have you lived here?
Here in my house, your father kept our woods
Before you?
GERARD. As his father did, my lord.
I have been eating, sixty years almost,
Your bread.
TRESHAM. Yes, yes. You ever were of all
The servants in my father's house, I know,
The trusted one. You'll speak the truth.
GERARD. I'll speak
God's truth. Night after night...
TRESHAM. Since when?
GERARD. At least
A montheach midnight has some man access
To Lady Mildred's chamber.
TRESHAM. Tush, "access"
No wide words like "access" to me!
GERARD. He runs
Along the woodside, crosses to the South,
Takes the left tree that ends the avenue...
TRESHAM. The last great yewtree?
GERARD. You might stand upon
The main boughs like a platform. Then he...
TRESHAM. Quick!
GERARD. Climbs up, and, where they lessen at the top,
I cannot see distinctly, but he throws,
I thinkfor this I do not voucha line
That reaches to the lady's casement
TRESHAM. Which
He enters not! Gerard, some wretched fool
Dares pry into my sister's privacy!
When such are young, it seems a precious thing
To have approached,to merely have approached,
Got sight of the abode of her they set
Their frantic thoughts upon. Ha does not enter?
Gerard?
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 18
Page No 21
GERARD. There is a lamp that's full i' the midst.
Under a red square in the painted glass
Of Lady Mildred's...
TRESHAM. Leave that name out! Well?
That lamp?
GERARD. Is moved at midnight higher up
To one panea small darkblue pane; he waits
For that among the boughs: at sight of that,
I see him, plain as I see you, my lord,
Open the lady's casement, enter there...
TRESHAM. And stay?
GERARD. An hour, two hours.
TRESHAM. And this you saw
Once?twice?quick!
GERARD. Twenty times.
TRESHAM. And what brings you
Under the yewtrees?
GERARD. The first night I left
My range so far, to track the stranger stag
That broke the pale, I saw the man.
TRESHAM. Yet sent
No crossbow shaft through the marauder?
GERARD. But
He came, my lord, the first time he was seen,
In a great moonlight, light as any day,
FROM Lady Mildred's chamber.
TRESHAM [after a pause]. You have no cause
Who could have cause to do my sister wrong?
GERARD. Oh, my lord, only oncelet me this once
Speak what is on my mind! Since first I noted
All this, I've groaned as if a fiery net
Plucked me this way and thatfire if I turned
To her, fire if I turned to you, and fire
If down I flung myself and strove to die.
The lady could not have been seven years old
When I was trusted to conduct her safe
Through the deerherd to stroke the snowwhite fawn
I brought to eat bread from her tiny hand
Within a month. She ever had a smile
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 19
Page No 22
To greet me withshe... if it could undo
What's done, to lop each limb from off this trunk...
All that is foolish talk, not fit for you
I mean, I could not speak and bring her hurt
For Heaven's compelling. But when I was fixed
To hold my peace, each morsel of your food
Eaten beneath your roof, my birthplace too,
Choked me. I wish I had grown mad in doubts
What it behoved me do. This morn it seemed
Either I must confess to you or die:
Now it is done, I seem the vilest worm
That crawls, to have betrayed my lady.
TRESHAM. No
No, Gerard!
GERARD. Let me go!
TRESHAM. A man, you say:
What man? Young? Not a vulgar hind? What dress?
GERARD. A slouched hat and a large dark foreign cloak
Wraps his whole form; even his face is hid;
But I should judge him young: no hind, be sure!
TRESHAM. Why?
GERARD. He is ever armed: his sword projects
Beneath the cloak.
TRESHAM. Gerard,I will not say
No word, no breath of this!
GERARD. Thank, thanks, my lord!
[Goes.]
TRESHAM [paces the room. After a pause].
Oh, thoughts absurd!as with some monstrous fact
Which, when ill thoughts beset us, seems to give
Merciful God that made the sun and stars,
The waters and the green delights of earth,
The lie! I apprehend the monstrous fact
Yet know the maker of all worlds is good,
And yield my reason up, inadequate
To reconcile what yet I do behold
Blasting my sense! There's cheerful day outside:
This is my library, and this the chair
My father used to sit in carelessly
After his soldierfashion, while I stood
Between his knees to question him: and here
Gerard our grey retainer,as he says,
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 20
Page No 23
Fed with our food, from sire to son, an age,
Has told a storyI am to believe!
That Mildred... oh, no, no! both tales are true,
Her pure cheek's story and the forester's!
Would she, or could she, errmuch less, confound
All guilts of treachery, of craft, of... Heaven
Keep me within its hand!I will sit here
Until thought settle and I see my course.
Avert, oh God, only this woe from me!
[As he sinks his head between his arms on the table,
GUENDOLEN'S voice is heard at the door.]
Lord Tresham!
[She knocks.]
Is Lord Tresham there?
[TRESHAM, hastily turning, pulls down the first book
above him and opens it.]
TRESHAM. Come in!
[She enters.]
Ha, Guendolen!good morning.
GUENDOLEN. Nothing more?
TRESHAM. What should I say more?
GUENDOLEN. Pleasant question! more?
This more. Did I besiege poor Mildred's brain
Last night till close on morning with "the Earl,"
"The Earl"whose worth did I asseverate
Till I am very fain to hope that... Thorold,
What is all this? You are not well!
TRESHAM. Who, I?
You laugh at me.
GUENDOLEN. Has what I'm fain to hope,
Arrived then? Does that huge tome show some blot
In the Earl's 'scutcheon come no longer back
Than Arthur's time?
TRESHAM. When left you Mildred's chamber?
GUENDOLEN. Oh, late enough, I told you! The main thing
To ask is, how I left her chamber,sure,
Content yourself, she'll grant this paragon
Of Earls no such ungracious...
TRESHAM. Send her here!
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 21
Page No 24
GUENDOLEN. Thorold?
TRESHAM. I meanacquaint her, Guendolen,
But mildly!
GUENDOLEN. Mildly?
TRESHAM. Ah, you guessed aright!
I am not well: there is no hiding it.
But tell her I would see her at her leisure
That is, at once! here in the library!
The passage in that old Italian book
We hunted for so long is found, say, found
And if I let it slip again... you see,
That she must comeand instantly!
GUENDOLEN. I'll die
Piecemeal, record that, if there have not gloomed
Some blot i' the 'scutcheon!
TRESHAM. Go! or, Guendolen,
Be you at call,With Austin, if you choose,
In the adjoining gallery! There go!
[GUENDOLEN goes.]
Another lesson to me! You might bid
A child disguise his heart's sore, and conduct
Some sly investigation point by point
With a smooth brow, as well as bid me catch
The inquisitorial cleverness some praise.
If you had told me yesterday, "There's one
You needs must circumvent and practise with,
Entrap by policies, if you would worm
The truth out: and that one isMildred!" There,
Therereasoning is thrown away on it!
Prove she's unchaste... why, you may after prove
That she's a poisoner, traitress, what you will!
Where I can comprehend nought, nought's to say,
Or do, or think. Force on me but the first
Abomination,then outpour all plagues,
And I shall ne'er make count of them.
Enter MILDRED
MILDRED. What book
Is it I wanted, Thorold? Guendolen
Thought you were pale; you are not pale. That book?
That's Latin surely.
TRESHAM. Mildred, here's a line,
(Don't lean on me: I'll English it for you)
"Love conquers all things." What love conquers them?
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 22
Page No 25
What love should you esteembest love?
MILDRED. True love.
TRESHAM. I mean, and should have said, whose love is best
Of all that love or that profess to love?
MILDRED.
The list's so long: there's father's, mother's, husband's...
TRESHAM. Mildred, I do believe a brother's love
For a sole sister must exceed them all.
For see now, only see! there's no alloy
Of earth that creeps into the perfect'st gold
Of other lovesno gratitude to claim;
You never gave her life, not even aught
That keeps lifenever tended her, instructed,
Enriched herso, your love can claim no right
O'er her save pure love's claim: that's what I call
Freedom from earthliness. You'll never hope
To be such friends, for instance, she and you,
As when you hunted cowslips in the woods,
Or played together in the meadow hay.
Oh yeswith age, respect comes, and your worth
Is felt, there's growing sympathy of tastes,
There's ripened friendship, there's confirmed esteem:
Much head these make against the newcomer!
The startling apparition, the strange youth
Whom one halfhour's conversing with, or, say,
Mere gazing at, shall change (beyond all change
This Ovid ever sang about) your soul
...Her soul, that is,the sister's soul! With her
'Twas winter yesterday; now, all is warmth,
The green leaf's springing and the turtle's voice,
"Arise and come away!" Come whither?far
Enough from the esteem, respect, and all
The brother's somewhat insignificant
Array of rights! All which he knows before,
Has calculated on so long ago!
I think such love, (apart from yours and mine,)
Contented with its little term of life,
Intending to retire betimes, aware
How soon the background must be placed for it,
I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds
All the world's love in its unworldliness.
MILDRED. What is this for?
TRESHAM. This, Mildred, is it for!
Or, no, I cannot go to it so soon!
That's one of many points my haste left out
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 23
Page No 26
Each day, each hour throws forth its silkslight film
Between the being tied to you by birth,
And you, until those slender threads compose
A web that shrouds her daily life of hopes
And fears and fancies, all her life, from yours:
So close you live and yet so far apart!
And must I rend this web, tear up, break down
The sweet and palpitating mystery
That makes her sacred? Youfor you I mean,
Shall I speak, shall I not speak?
MILDRED. Speak!
TRESHAM. I will.
Is there a story men couldany man
Could tell of you, you would conceal from me?
I'll never think there's falsehood on that lip.
Say "There is no such story men could tell,"
And I'll believe you, though I disbelieve
The worldthe world of better men than I,
And women such as I suppose you. Speak!
[After a pause.]
Not speak? Explain then! Clear it up then! Move
Some of the miserable weight away
That presses lower than the grave. Not speak?
Some of the dead weight, Mildred! Ah, if I
Could bring myself to plainly make their charge
Against you! Must I, Mildred? Silent still?
[After a pause.]
Is there a gallant that has night by night
Admittance to your chamber?
[After a pause.]
Then, his name!
Till now, I only had a thought for you:
But now,his name!
MILDRED. Thorold, do you devise
Fit expiation for my guilt, if fit
There be! 'Tis nought to say that I'll endure
And bless you,that my spirit yearns to purge
Her stains off in the fierce renewing fire:
But do not plunge me into other guilt!
Oh, guilt enough! I cannot tell his name.
TRESHAM. Then judge yourself! How should I act? Pronounce!
MILDRED. Oh, Thorold, you must never tempt me thus!
To die here in this chamber by that sword
Would seem like punishment: so should I glide,
Like an archcheat, into extremest bliss!
'Twere easily arranged for me: but you
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 24
Page No 27
What would become of you?
TRESHAM. And what will now
Become of me? I'll hide your shame and mine
>From every eye; the dead must heave their hearts
Under the marble of our chapelfloor;
They cannot rise and blast you. You may wed
Your paramour above our mother's tomb;
Our mother cannot move from 'neath your foot.
We too will somehow wear this one day out:
But with tomorrow hastens herethe Earl!
The youth without suspicion. Face can come
>From Heaven and heart from... whence proceed such hearts?
I have dispatched last night at your command
A missive bidding him present himself
Tomorrowherethus much is said; the rest
Is understood as if 'twere written down
"His suit finds favor in your eyes." Now dictate
This morning's letter that shall countermand
Last night'sdo dictate that!
MILDRED. But, Thoroldif
I will receive him as I said?
TRESHAM. The Earl?
MILDRED. I will receive him.
TRESHAM [starting up]. Ho there! Guendolen!
GUENDOLEN and AUSTIN enter
And, Austin, you are welcome, too! Look there!
The woman there!
AUSTIN and GUENDOLEN. How? Mildred?
TRESHAM. Mildred once!
Now the receiver night by night, when sleep
Blesses the inmates of her father's house,
I say, the soft sly wanton that receives
Her guilt's accomplice 'neath this roof which holds
You, Guendolen, you, Austin, and has held
A thousand Treshamsnever one like her!
No lighter of the signallamp her quick
Foul breath near quenches in hot eagerness
To mix with breath as foul! no loosener
O' the lattice, practised in the stealthy tread,
The low voice and the noiseless comeandgo!
Not one composer of the bacchant's mien
Intowhat you thought Mildred's, in a word!
Know her!
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 25
Page No 28
GUENDOLEN. Oh, Mildred, look to me, at least!
Thoroldshe's dead, I'd say, but that she stands
Rigid as stone and whiter!
TRESHAM. You have heard...
GUENDOLEN. Too much! You must proceed no further.
MILDRED. Yes
Proceed! All's truth. Go from me!
TRESHAM. All is truth,
She tells you! Well, you know, or ought to know,
All this I would forgive in her. I'd con
Each precept the harsh world enjoins, I'd take
Our ancestors' stern verdicts one by one,
I'd bind myself before then to exact
The prescribed vengeanceand one word of hers,
The sight of her, the bare least memory
Of Mildred, my one sister, my heart's pride
Above all prides, my all in all so long,
Would scatter every trace of my resolve.
What were it silently to waste away
And see her waste away from this day forth,
Two scathed things with leisure to repent,
And grow acquainted with the grave, and die
Tired out if not at peace, and be forgotten?
It were not so impossible to bear.
But thisthat, fresh from last night's pledge renewed
Of love with the successful gallant there,
She calmly bids me help her to entice,
Inveigle an unconscious trusting youth
Who thinks her all that's chaste and good and pure,
Invites me to betray him... who so fit
As honour's self to cover shame's archdeed?
That she'll receive Lord Mertoun(her own phrase)
This, who could bear? Why, you have heard of thieves,
Stabbers, the earth's disgrace, who yet have laughed,
"Talk not to me of tortureI'll betray
No comrade I've pledged faith to!"you have heard
Of wretched womenall but Mildredstied
By wild illicit ties to losels vile
You'd tempt them to forsake; and they'll reply
"Gold, friends, repute, I left for him, I find
In him, why should I leave him then, for gold,
Repute or friends?"and you have felt your heart
Respond to such poor outcasts of the world
As to so many friends; bad as you please,
You've felt they were God's men and women still,
So, not to be disowned by you. But she
That stands there, calmly gives her lover up
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 26
Page No 29
As means to wed the Earl that she may hide
Their intercourse the surelier: and, for this,
I curse her to her face before you all.
Shame hunt her from the earth! Then Heaven do right
To both! It hears me nowshall judge her then!
[AS MILDRED faints and falls, TRESHAM rushes out.]
AUSTIN. Stay, Tresham, we'll accompany you!
GUENDOLEN. We?
What, and leave Mildred? We? Why, where's my place
But by her side, and where yours but by mine?
Mildredone word! Only look at me, then!
AUSTIN. No, Guendolen! I echo Thorold's voice.
She is unworthy to behold...
GUENDOLEN. Us two?
If you spoke on reflection, and if I
Approved your speechif you (to put the thing
At lowest) you the soldier, bound to make
The king's cause yours and fight for it, and throw
Regard to others of its right or wrong,
If with a deathwhite woman you can help,
Let alone sister, let alone a Mildred,
You left heror if I, her cousin, friend
This morning, playfellow but yesterday,
Who said, or thought at least a thousand times,
"I'd serve you if I could," should now face round
And say, "Ah, that's to only signify
I'd serve you while you're fit to serve yourself:
So long as fifty eyes await the turn
Of yours to forestall its yet halfformed wish,
I'll proffer my assistance you'll not need
When every tongue is praising you, I'll join
The praisers' choruswhen you're hemmed about
With lives between you and detractionlives
To be laid down if a rude voice, rash eye,
Rough hand should violate the sacred ring
Their worship throws about you,then indeed,
Who'll stand up for you stout as I?" If so
We said, and so we did,not Mildred there
Would be unworthy to behold us both,
But we should be unworthy, both of us.
To be beheld bybyyour meanest dog,
Which, if that sword were broken in your face
Before a crowd, that badge torn off your breast,
And you cast out with hooting and contempt,
Would push his way thro' all the hooters, gain
Your side, go off with you and all your shame
To the next ditch you choose to die in! Austin,
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 27
Page No 30
Do you love me? Here's Austin, Mildred,here's
Your brother says he does not believe half
No, nor half thatof all he heard! He says,
Look up and take his hand!
AUSTIN. Look up and take
My hand, dear Mildred!
MILDRED. II was so young!
Beside, I loved him, Thoroldand I had
No mother; God forgot me: so, I fell.
GUENDOLEN. Mildred!
MILDRED. Require no further! Did I dream
That I could palliate what is done? All's true.
Now, punish me! A woman takes my hand?
Let go my hand! You do not know, I see.
I thought that Thorold told you.
GUENDOLEN. What is this?
Where start you to?
MILDRED. Oh, Austin, loosen me!
You heard the whole of ityour eyes were worse,
In their surprise, than Thorold's! Oh, unless
You stay to execute his sentence, loose
My hand! Has Thorold gone, and are you here?
GUENDOLEN. Here, Mildred, we two friends of yours will wait
Your bidding; be you silent, sleep or muse!
Only, when you shall want your bidding done,
How can we do it if we are not by?
Here's Austin waiting patiently your will!
One spirit to command, and one to love
And to believe in it and do its best,
Poor as that is, to help itwhy, the world
Has been won many a time, its length and breadth,
By just such a beginning!
MILDRED. I believe
If once I threw my arms about your neck
And sunk my head upon your breast, that I
Should weep again.
GUENDOLEN. Let go her hand now, Austin!
Wait for me. Pace the gallery and think
On the world's seemings and realities,
Until I call you.
[AUSTIN goes.]
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 28
Page No 31
MILDRED. NoI cannot weep.
No more tears from this brainno sleepno tears!
O Guendolen, I love you!
GUENDOLEN. Yes: and "love"
Is a short word that says so very much!
It says that you confide in me.
MILDRED. Confide!
GUENDOLEN. Your lover's name, then! I've so much to learn,
Ere I can work in your behalf!
MILDRED. My friend,
You know I cannot tell his name.
GUENDOLEN. At least
He is your lover? and you love him too?
MILDRED. Ah, do you ask me that,but I am fallen
So low!
GUENDOLEN. You love him still, then?
MILDRED. My sole prop
Against the guilt that crushes me! I say,
Each night ere I lie down, "I was so young
I had no mother, and I loved him so!"
And then God seems indulgent, and I dare
Trust him my soul in sleep.
GUENDOLEN. How could you let us
E'en talk to you about Lord Mertoun then?
MILDRED. There is a cloud around me.
GUENDOLEN. But you said
You would receive his suit in spite of this?
MILDRED. I say there is a cloud...
GUENDOLEN. No cloud to me!
Lord Mertoun and your lover are the same!
MILDRED. What maddest fancy...
GUENDOLEN [calling aloud.] Austin! (spare your pains
When I have got a truth, that truth I keep)
MILDRED. By all you love, sweet Guendolen, forbear!
Have I confided in you...
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT II 29
Page No 32
GUENDOLEN. Just for this!
Austin!Oh, not to guess it at the first!
But I did guess itthat is, I divined,
Felt by an instinct how it was: why else
Should I pronounce you free from all that heap
Of sins which had been irredeemable?
I felt they were not yourswhat other way
Than this, not yours? The secret's wholly mine!
MILDRED. If you would see me die before his face...
GUENDOLEN. I'd hold my peace! And if the Earl returns
Tonight?
MILDRED. Ah Heaven, he's lost!
GUENDOLEN. I thought so. Austin!
Enter AUSTIN
Oh, where have you been hiding?
AUSTIN. Thorold's gone,
I know not how, across the meadowland.
I watched him till I lost him in the skirts
O' the beechwood.
GUENDOLEN. Gone? All thwarts us.
MILDRED. Thorold too?
GUENDOLEN. I have thought. First lead this Mildred to her room.
Go on the other side; and then we'll seek
Your brother: and I'll tell you, by the way,
The greatest comfort in the world. You said
There was a clue to all. Remember, Sweet,
He said there was a clue! I hold it. Come!
ACT III
SCENE I.The end of the Yewtree Avenue under MILDRED'S Window.
A light seen through a central red pane
Enter TRESHAM through the trees
Again here! But I cannot lose myself.
The heaththe orchardI have traversed glades
And dells and bosky paths which used to lead
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT III 30
Page No 33
Into green wildwood depths, bewildering
My boy's adventurous step. And now they tend
Hither or soon or late; the blackest shade
Breaks up, the thronged trunks of the trees ope wide,
And the dim turret I have fled from, fronts
Again my step; the very river put
Its arm about me and conducted me
To this detested spot. Why then, I'll shun
Their will no longer: do your will with me!
Oh, bitter! To have reared a towering scheme
Of happiness, and to behold it razed,
Were nothing: all men hope, and see their hopes
Frustrate, and grieve awhile, and hope anew.
But I... to hope that from a line like ours
No horrid prodigy like this would spring,
Were just as though I hoped that from these old
Confederates against the sovereign day,
Children of older and yet older sires,
Whose living coral berries dropped, as now
On me, on many a baron's surcoat once,
On many a beauty's whimplewould proceed
No poisontree, to thrust, from hell its root,
Hither and thither its strange snaky arms.
Why came I here? What must I do?
[A bell strikes.]
A bell?
Midnight! and 'tis at midnight... Ah, I catch
Woods, river, plains, I catch your meaning now,
And I obey you! Hist! This tree will serve.
[He retires behind one of the trees. After a pause,
enter MERTOUN cloaked as before.]
MERTOUN. Not time! Beat out thy last voluptuous beat
Of hope and fear, my heart! I thought the clock
I' the chapel struck as I was pushing through
The ferns. And so I shall no more see rise
My lovestar! Oh, no matter for the past!
So much the more delicious task to watch
Mildred revive: to pluck out, thorn by thorn,
All traces of the rough forbidden path
My rash love lured her to! Each day must see
Some fear of hers effaced, some hope renewed:
Then there will be surprises, unforeseen
Delights in store. I'll not regret the past.
[The light is placed above in the purple pane.]
And see, my signal rises, Mildred's star!
I never saw it lovelier than now
It rises for the last time. If it sets,
'Tis that the reassuring sun may dawn.
[As he prepares to ascend the last tree of the avenue,
TRESHAM arrests his arm.]
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ACT III 31
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Unhand mepeasant, by your grasp! Here's gold.
'Twas a mad freak of mine. I said I'd pluck
A branch from the whiteblossomed shrub beneath
The casement there. Take this, and hold your peace.
TRESHAM. Into the moonlight yonder, come with me!
Out of the shadow!
MERTOUN. I am armed, fool!
TRESHAM. Yes,
Or no? You'll come into the light, or no?
My hand is on your throatrefuse!
MERTOUN. That voice!
Where have I heard... nothat was mild and slow.
I'll come with you.
[They advance.]
TRESHAM. You're armed: that's well. Declare
Your name: who are you?
MERTOUN. (Tresham!she is lost!)
TRESHAM. Oh, silent? Do you know, you bear yourself
Exactly as, in curious dreams I've had
How felons, this wild earth is full of, look
When they're detected, still your kind has looked!
The bravo holds an assured countenance,
The thief is voluble and plausible,
But silently the slave of lust has crouched
When I have fancied it before a man.
Your name!
MERTOUN. I do conjure Lord Treshamay,
Kissing his foot, if so I might prevail
That he for his own sake forbear to ask
My name! As heaven's above, his future weal
Or woe depends upon my silence! Vain!
I read your white inexorable face.
Know me, Lord Tresham!
[He throws off his disguises.]
TRESHAM. Mertoun!
[After a pause.]
Draw now!
MERTOUN. Hear me
But speak first!
TRESHAM. Not one least word on your life!
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Be sure that I will strangle in your throat
The least word that informs me how you live
And yet seem what you seem! No doubt 'twas you
Taught Mildred still to keep that face and sin.
We should join hands in frantic sympathy
If you once taught me the unteachable,
Explained how you can live so and so lie.
With God's help I retain, despite my sense,
The old beliefa life like yours is still
Impossible. Now draw!
MERTOUN. Not for my sake,
Do I entreat a hearingfor your sake,
And most, for her sake!
TRESHAM. Ha, ha, what should I
Know of your ways? A miscreant like yourself,
How must one rouse his ire? A blow?that's pride
No doubt, to him! One spurns him, does one not?
Or sets the foot upon his mouth, or spits
Into his face! Come! Which, or all of these?
MERTOUN. 'Twixt him and me and Mildred, Heaven be judge!
Can I avoid this? Have your will, my lord!
[He draws and, after a few passes, falls.]
TRESHAM. You are not hurt?
MERTOUN. You'll hear me now!
TRESHAM. But rise!
MERTOUN. Ah, Tresham, say I not "you'll hear me now!"
And what procures a man the right to speak
In his defence before his fellow man,
ButI supposethe thought that presently
He may have leave to speak before his God
His whole defence?
TRESHAM. Not hurt? It cannot be!
You made no effort to resist me. Where
Did my sword reach you? Why not have returned
My thrusts? Hurt where?
MERTOUN. My lord
TRESHAM. How young he is!
MERTOUN. Lord Tresham, I am very young, and yet
I have entangled other lives with mine.
Do let me speak, and do believe my speech!
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That when I die before you presently,
TRESHAM. Can you stay here till I return with help?
MERTOUN. Oh, stay by me! When I was less than boy
I did you grievous wrong and knew it not
Upon my honour, knew it not! Once known,
I could not find what seemed a better way
To right you than I took: my lifeyou feel
How less than nothing were the giving you
The life you've taken! But I thought my way
The betteronly for your sake and hers:
And as you have decided otherwise,
Would I had an infinity of lives
To offer you! Now sayinstruct methink!
Can you, from the brief minutes I have left,
Eke out my reparation? Oh thinkthink!
For I must wring a partialdare I say,
Forgiveness from you, ere I die?
TRESHAM. I do
Forgive you.
MERTOUN. Wait and ponder that great word!
Because, if you forgive me, I shall hope
To speak to you ofMildred!
TRESHAM. Mertoun, haste
And anger have undone us. 'Tis not you
Should tell me for a novelty you're young,
Thoughtless, unable to recall the past.
Be but your pardon ample as my own!
MERTOUN. Ah, Tresham, that a swordstroke and a drop
Of blood or two, should bring all this about
Why, 'twas my very fear of you, my love
Of you(what passion like a boy's for one
Like you?)that ruined me! I dreamed of you
You, all accomplished, courted everywhere,
The scholar and the gentleman. I burned
To knit myself to you: but I was young,
And your surpassing reputation kept me
So far aloof! Oh, wherefore all that love?
With less of love, my glorious yesterday
Of praise and gentlest words and kindest looks,
Had taken place perchance six months ago.
Even now, how happy we had been! And yet
I know the thought of this escaped you, Tresham!
Let me look up into your face; I feel
'Tis changed above me: yet my eyes are glazed.
Where? where?
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[As he endeavours to raise himself, his eye catches the lamp.]
Ah, Mildred! What will Mildred do?
Tresham, her life is bound up in the life
That's bleeding fast away! I'll livemust live,
There, if you'll only turn me I shall live
And save her! Treshamoh, had you but heard!
Had you but heard! What right was yours to set
The thoughtless foot upon her life and mine,
And then say, as we perish, "Had I thought,
All had gone otherwise"? We've sinned and die:
Never you sin, Lord Tresham! for you'll die,
And God will judge you.
TRESHAM. Yes, be satisfied!
That process is begun.
MERTOUN. And she sits there
Waiting for me! Now, say you this to her
You, not anothersay, I saw him die
As he breathed this, "I love her"you don't know
What those three small words mean! Say, loving her
Lowers me down the bloody slope to death
With memories... I speak to her, not you,
Who had no pity, will have no remorse,
Perchance intend her... Die along with me,
Dear Mildred! 'tis so easy, and you'll 'scape
So much unkindness! Can I lie at rest,
With rude speech spoken to you, ruder deeds
Done to you?heartless men shall have my heart,
And I tied down with graveclothes and the worm,
Aware, perhaps, of every blowoh God!
Upon those lipsyet of no power to tear
The felon stripe by stripe! Die, Mildred! Leave
Their honourable world to them! For God
We're good enough, though the world casts us out.
[A whistle is heard.]
TRESHAM. Ho, Gerard!
Enter GERARD, AUSTIN and GUENDOLEN, with lights
No one speak! You see what's done.
I cannot bear another voice.
MERTOUN. There's light
Light all about me, and I move to it.
Tresham, did I not tell youdid you not
Just promise to deliver words of mine
To Mildred?
TRESHAM. I will bear those words to her.
MERTOUN. Now?
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TRESHAM. Now. Lift you the body, and leave me
The head.
[As they have half raised MERTOUN, he turns suddenly.]
MERTOUN. I knew they turned me: turn me not from her!
There! stay you! there!
[Dies.]
GUENDOLEN [after a pause]. Austin, remain you here
With Thorold until Gerard comes with help:
Then lead him to his chamber. I must go
To Mildred.
TRESHAM. Guendolen, I hear each word
You utter. Did you hear him bid me give
His message? Did you hear my promise? I,
And only I, see Mildred.
GUENDOLEN. She will die.
TRESHAM. Oh no, she will not die! I dare not hope
She'll die. What ground have you to think she'll die?
Why, Austin's with you!
AUSTIN. Had we but arrived
Before you fought!
TRESHAM. There was no fight at all.
He let me slaughter himthe boy! I'll trust
The body there to you and Gerardthus!
Now bear him on before me.
AUSTIN. Whither bear him?
TRESHAM. Oh, to my chamber! When we meet there next,
We shall be friends.
[They bear out the body of MERTOUN.]
Will she die, Guendolen?
GUENDOLEN. Where are you taking me?
TRESHAM. He fell just here.
Now answer me. Shall you in your whole life
You who have nought to do with Mertoun's fate,
Now you have seen his breast upon the turf,
Shall you e'er walk this way if you can help?
When you and Austin wander arminarm
Through our ancestral grounds, will not a shade
Be ever on the meadow and the waste
Another kind of shade than when the night
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT III 36
Page No 39
Shuts the woodside with all its whispers up?
But will you ever so forget his breast
As carelessly to cross this bloody turf
Under the black yew avenue? That's well!
You turn your head: and I then?
GUENDOLEN. What is done
Is done. My care is for the living. Thorold,
Bear up against this burden: more remains
To set the neck to!
TRESHAM. Dear and ancient trees
My fathers planted, and I loved so well!
What have I done that, like some fabled crime
Of yore, lets loose a Fury leading thus
Her miserable dance amidst you all?
Oh, never more for me shall winds intone
With all your tops a vast antiphony,
Demanding and responding in God's praise!
Hers ye are now, not mine! Farewellfarewell!
SCENE II.MILDRED'S Chamber
MILDRED alone
He comes not! I have heard of those who seemed
Resourceless in prosperity,you thought
Sorrow might slay them when she listed; yet
Did they so gather up their diffused strength
At her first menace, that they bade her strike,
And stood and laughed her subtlest skill to scorn.
Oh, 'tis not so with me! The first woe fell,
And the rest fall upon it, not on me:
Else should I bear that Henry comes not?fails
Just this first night out of so many nights?
Loving is done with. Were he sitting now,
As so few hours since, on that seat, we'd love
No morecontrive no thousand happy ways
To hide love from the loveless, any more.
I think I might have urged some little point
In my defence, to Thorold; he was breathless
For the least hint of a defence: but no,
The first shame over, all that would might fall.
No Henry! Yet I merely sit and think
The morn's deed o'er and o'er. I must have crept
Out of myself. A Mildred that has lost
Her loveroh, I dare not look upon
Such woe! I crouch away from it! 'Tis she,
Mildred, will break her heart, not I! The world
Forsakes me: only Henry's left meleft?
When I have lost him, for he does not come,
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And I sit stupidly... Oh Heaven, break up
This worse than anguish, this mad apathy,
By any means or any messenger!
TRESHAM [without]. Mildred!
MILDRED. Come in! Heaven hears me!
[Enter TRESHAM.]
You? alone?
Oh, no more cursing!
TRESHAM. Mildred, I must sit.
Thereyou sit!
MILDRED. Say it, Thorolddo not look
The curse! deliver all you come to say!
What must become of me? Oh, speak that thought
Which makes your brow and cheeks so pale!
TRESHAM. My thought?
MILDRED. All of it!
TRESHAM. How we waded yearsago
After those waterlilies, till the plash,
I know not how, surprised us; and you dared
Neither advance nor turn back: so, we stood
Laughing and crying until Gerard came
Once safe upon the turf, the loudest too,
For once more reaching the relinquished prize!
How idle thoughts are, some men's, dying men's!
Mildred,
MILDRED. You call me kindlier by my name
Than even yesterday: what is in that?
TRESHAM. It weighs so much upon my mind that I
This morning took an office not my own!
I might... of course, I must be glad or grieved,
Content or not, at every little thing
That touches you. I may with a wrung heart
Even reprove you, Mildred; I did more:
Will you forgive me?
MILDRED. Thorold? do you mock?
Oh no... and yet you bid me... say that word!
TRESHAM. Forgive me, Mildred!are you silent, Sweet?
MILDRED [starting up]. Why does not Henry Mertoun come tonight?
Are you, too, silent?
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[Dashing his mantle aside, and pointing to his scabbard,
which is empty.]
Ah, this speaks for you!
You've murdered Henry Mertoun! Now proceed!
What is it I must pardon? This and all?
Well, I do pardon youI think I do.
Thorold, how very wretched you must be!
TRESHAM. He bade me tell you...
MILDRED. What I do forbid
Your utterance of! So much that you may tell
And will nothow you murdered him... but, no!
You'll tell me that he loved me, never more
Than bleeding out his life there: must I say
"Indeed," to that? Enough! I pardon you.
TRESHAM. You cannot, Mildred! for the harsh words, yes:
Of this last deed Another's judge: whose doom
I wait in doubt, despondency and fear.
MILDRED. Oh, true! There's nought for me to pardon! True!
You loose my soul of all its cares at once.
Death makes me sure of him for ever! You
Tell me his last words? He shall tell me them,
And take my answernot in words, but reading
Himself the heart I had to read him late,
Which death...
TRESHAM. Death? You are dying too? Well said
Of Guendolen! I dared not hope you'd die:
But she was sure of it.
MILDRED. Tell Guendolen
I loved her, and tell Austin...
TRESHAM. Him you loved:
And me?
MILDRED. Ah, Thorold! Was't not rashly done
To quench that blood, on fire with youth and hope
And love of mewhom you loved too, and yet
Suffered to sit here waiting his approach
While you were slaying him? Oh, doubtlessly
You let him speak his poor confused boy'sspeech
Do his poor utmost to disarm your wrath
And respite me!you let him try to give
The story of our love and ignorance,
And the brief madness and the long despair
You let him plead all this, because your code
Of honour bids you hear before you strike:
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ACT III 39
Page No 42
But at the end, as he looked up for life
Into your eyesyou struck him down!
TRESHAM. No! No!
Had I but heard himhad I let him speak
Half the truthlesshad I looked long on him
I had desisted! Why, as he lay there,
The moon on his flushed cheek, I gathered all
The story ere he told it: I saw through
The troubled surface of his crime and yours
A depth of purity immovable,
Had I but glanced, where all seemed turbidest
Had gleamed some inlet to the calm beneath;
I would not glance: my punishment's at hand.
There, Mildred, is the truth! and yousay on
You curse me?
MILDRED. As I dare approach that Heaven
Which has not bade a living thing despair,
Which needs no code to keep its grace from stain,
But bids the vilest worm that turns on it
Desist and be forgiven,Iforgive not,
But bless you, Thorold, from my soul of souls!
[Falls on his neck.]
There! Do not think too much upon the past!
The cloud that's broke was all the same a cloud
While it stood up between my friend and you;
You hurt him 'neath its shadow: but is that
So past retrieve? I have his heart, you know;
I may dispose of it: I give it you!
It loves you as mine loves! Confirm me, Henry!
[Dies.]
TRESHAM. I wish thee joy, Beloved! I am glad
In thy full gladness!
GUENDOLEN [without]. Mildred! Tresham!
[Entering with AUSTIN.]
Thorold,
I could desist no longer. Ah, she swoons!
That's well.
TRESHAM. Oh, better far than that!
GUENDOLEN. She's dead!
Let me unlock her arms!
TRESHAM. She threw them thus
About my neck, and blessed me, and then died:
You'll let them stay now, Guendolen!
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ACT III 40
Page No 43
AUSTIN. Leave her
And look to him! What ails you, Thorold?
GUENDOLEN. White
As she, and whiter! Austin! quickthis side!
AUSTIN. A froth is oozing through his clenched teeth;
Both lips, where they're not bitten through, are black:
Speak, dearest Thorold!
TRESHAM. Something does weigh down
My neck beside her weight: thanks: I should fall
But for you, Austin, I believe!there, there,
'Twill pass away soon!ah,I had forgotten:
I am dying.
GUENDOLEN. ThoroldThoroldwhy was this?
TRESHAM. I said, just as I drank the poison off,
The earth would be no longer earth to me,
The life out of all life was gone from me.
There are blind ways provided, the foredone
Heartweary player in this pageantworld
Drops out by, letting the main masque defile
By the conspicuous portal: I am through
Just through!
GUENDOLEN. Don't leave him, Austin! Death is close.
TRESHAM. Already Mildred's face is peacefuller,
I see you, Austinfeel you; here's my hand,
Put yours in ityou, Guendolen, yours too!
You're lord and lady nowyou're Treshams; name
And fame are yours: you hold our 'scutcheon up.
Austin, no blot on it! You see how blood
Must wash one blot away: the first blot came
And the first blood came. To the vain world's eye
All's gules again: no care to the vain world,
From whence the red was drawn!
AUSTIN. No blot shall come!
TRESHAM. I said that: yet it did come. Should it come,
Vengeance is God's, not man's. Remember me!
[Dies.]
GUENDOLEN [letting fall the pulseless arm].
Ah, Thorold, we can butremember you!
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Page No 44
The End
A Blot In The 'Scutcheon
ACT III 42
Bookmarks
1. Table of Contents, page = 3
2. A Blot In The 'Scutcheon, page = 4
3. Robert Browning, page = 4
4. INTRODUCTORY NOTE, page = 4
5. ACT I, page = 5
6. ACT II, page = 20
7. ACT III, page = 33