The Surrender of Calais Part 6

SCENE II.

_The Town Hall of Calais._

_CITIZENS, SOLDIERS, and CRIER, discovered._

_Crier._ Silence!--An ye all talk thus, there's an end to conversation.

Your silence, my masters, will breed a disturbance. Ma.s.s, 'tis hard that I, who am Crier, should be laughed at, and held at nought among you.

_All._ Hear! hear!

_Crier._ Listen.--The good John de Vienne, our governor--a blessing on his old merry heart!--grieving for your distress, has, e'en now, called a parley on the walls, with the English; and has chosen me, in his wisdom, to ring you all into the town hall, here; where, an you abide his coming, you will hear, what he shall seem to signify unto you. And, by our lady, here the governor comes!--[_Rings._]--Silence!

_All._ Silence!

_Crier._ Nay, 'tis ever so. An I were to bid a dumb man hold his tongue, by my troth, I think a' would cry "Silence," till the drum of my ear were bursten. Silence!

_Enter JOHN de VIENNE, EUSTACHE de ST. PIERRE following. JOHN de VIENNE seats himself at the Head of the Council Table; EUSTACHE sits in the Front, among the CITIZENS._

_De Vienne._ You partly know why I have here convened you.

I pr'ythee, now,--I pr'ythee, honest friends!

Summon up all the fort.i.tude within you, Which you are masters of. Now, Heaven forgive me!

I almost wish I had not been a soldier;-- For I have, here, a matter to deliver Requires a schoolman's preface. 'Tis a task, Which bears so heavy on my poor old heart, That 'twill go nigh to crack beneath the burden.

You know I love you, fellow citizens: You know I love you well.

_All._ Ay, ay; we know it.

_De Vienne._ I could be well content, in peace, or peril, To 'bide with you for ever.

_Eust._ No one doubts it.

I never, yet, did hear of governor, Spite of the rubs, and watchful toil of office, Would willingly forego his place.

_De Vienne._ Why, how now!

Why, how now, friend! dost thou come o'er me thus?

But I shall find a time--it fits not now-- When I will teach thee----'Sdeath! old John de Vienne, A veteran, bluff soldier, bearded thus!

And sneer'd at by a saucy--Mark you me!-- [_Rises._ Well, let it pa.s.s:--the general calamity Will sour the best of us.--[_Sits._]--My honest citizens, I once more pray you, think that ye are men: I pray you, too, my friends----

_Eust._ I pray you, sir, Be somewhat brief; you'll tire else. These same citizens These honest citizens, would fain e'en know The worst at once. When members are impatient For a plain tale, the orator, (you'll pardon me,) Should not be too long winded.

_De Vienne._ Fellow, peace!

Ere now I've mark'd thee.--Thou art he, I take it,-- 'Tis Eustache de St. Pierre, I think, they call thee-- Whom all the town, our very children, point at, As the most growling knave in christendom;-- Yea, thou art he.

_Eust._ The same. The mongrels, here, Cannot abide rough honesty:--I'm hated.

Smooth talking likes them better:--You, good sir, Are popular among them.

_All._ Silence!

_Eust._ Buz!

_De Vienne._ Thus, then, in brief. Finding we are reduced, By famine, and fatigue, unto extremity, I sounded for a parley from the walls;-- E'en now 't has ended:--Edward order'd forth Sir Walter Manny; and I needs must own, A courteous knight, although an enemy.-- I told him our distress. Sir Knight, said I-- And here it makes me almost blush to think An Englishman should see me drop a tear; But, 'spite of me, it stole upon my cheek;-- To speak the honest truth, Sir Knight, said I, My gallant men are perishing with hunger:-- Therefore I will surrender.

_Eust._ Surrender!

[_The rest look amazed._

_De Vienne._ But, conceive me, On this condition;--that I do secure The lives, and liberties, of those brave fellows, Who, in this galling and disastrous siege, Have shared with me in each fatigue and peril.

_All._ Huzza! Long live our governor! Huzza!

_De Vienne._ I thank you, friends.--It grieves me to repay Your honest love, with tidings, sure, as heavy As ever messenger was charged withal.

The King of England steels his heart against us.

He does let loose his vengeance; and he wills,-- If we would save our city from the sword, From wild destruction,--that I straight do send him Six of my first and best reputed citizens, Bare headed, tendering the city keys; And,--'sdeath, I choke!--with vile and loathsome ropes, Circling their necks, in guise of malefactors, To suffer instant execution.

[_The CITIZENS appear confounded. A Pause._

Friends, I do perceive you're troubled:--'tis enough To pose the stoutest of you. Who among you Can smother nature's workings, which do prompt Each, to the last, to struggle for himself?

Yet, were I not objected to, as governor, There might be found--no matter.--Who so bold, That, for the welfare of a wretched mult.i.tude, Involved with him, in one great common cause, Would volunteer it on the scaffold?

_Eust._ [_Rises._] I:---- E'en I;--the growling knave, whom children point at.

To save those children, and their hapless mothers, To s.n.a.t.c.h the virgin from the ravisher, To shield the bent and h.o.a.ry citizen, To push the sword back from his aged throat, (Fresh reeking, haply, in his house's blood,) I render up myself for sacrifice.---- Will no one budge? Then let the English in; Let in the enemy, to find us wasted, And winking in the socket. Rouse, for shame!

Rouse, citizens! Think on your wives, your infants!

And let us not be so far shamed in story, That we should lack six men within our walls, To save them thus from slaughter.

_De Vienne._ n.o.ble soul!

I could, for this, fall down and worship thee.

Thou warm'st my heart. Does no one else appear, To back this gallant veteran?

_D'Aire._ Eustache,-- Myself, and these two brothers, my companions, All of your house, and near of kin to you, Have ponder'd on your words:--we sure must die, If we or go, or stay:--but, what weighs most-- We would not see our helpless little ones Butcher'd before our eyes. We'll go with thee.

_Eust._ Now, by our good St. Dennis, I do feel proud! My lowly house's glory Shall live on record. What are birth and t.i.tles?

Feathers for children. The plain honest mind, That branches forth in charity and virtue, Shrinks lordly pomp to nought; and makes vain pedigree Blush at his frothy boasting.--We are four;-- Fellows in death and honour.--Two remain To fill our number.

_De Vienne._ Pause a while, my friends; We yet have breathing time;--though troth but little.-- I must go forth, a hostage to the English, Till you appear. Break up our sad a.s.sembly;-- And, for the rest, agree among yourselves.

Were the time apt, I could well waste a year In praising this your valour.

[_To EUSTACHE._

_Eust._ Break we up. If any Can wind his sluggish courage to the pitch, Meet me anon i'th' market-place: and, thence, Will we march forth. Ye have but this, remember; Either plunge bravely into death, or wait Till the full tide of blood flows in upon you, And shame and slaughter overwhelm us. Come; My n.o.ble partners, come!

[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_An apartment in the GOVERNOR's House._

_Enter JULIA and RIBAUMONT._

_Ribau._ Yet, hear me, Julia----

_Julia._ Pr'ythee, good my lord, Press me not thus: my father's strict command-- I must not say 'tis harsh--forbids me listen.