The lord high steward of the realm, moreover ——
Sarolta. Be brief! We know his titles!
Laska. And moreover 95
Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick.
And furthermore, said witnesses make oath,
Led on the assault upon his lordship’s servants;
Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,
His badge of livery of your noble house, 100
And trampled it in scorn.
Sarolta (to the Servants who offer to speak). You have had your
spokesman!
Where is the young man thus accused?
Old Bathory. I know not:
But if no ill betide him on the mountains,
He will not long be absent!
Sarolta. Thou art his father? 105
Old Bathory. None ever with more reason prized a son;
Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.
But more than one, now in my lady’s presence,
Witnessed the affray, besides these men of malice;
And if I swerve from truth ——
Glycine. Yes! good old man! 110
My lady! pray believe him!
Sarolta. Hush, Glycine
Be silent, I command you. [Then to BATHORY.
Speak! we hear you!
Old Bathory. My tale is brief. During our festive dance,
Your servants, the accusers of my son,
Offered gross insults, in unmanly sort, 115
To our village maidens. He (could he do less?)
Rose in defence of outraged modesty,
And so persuasive did his cudgel prove,
(Your hectoring sparks so over-brave to women
Are always cowards) that they soon took flight, 120
And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters,
Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words
Which their own threats provoked.
Sarolta. Old man! you talk
Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect
To the livery of our house?
Old Bathory. Even such respect 125
As the sheep’s skin should gain for the hot wolf
That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!
Laska. Old insolent ruffian!
Glycine. Pardon! pardon, madam!
I saw the whole affray. The good old man
Means no offence, sweet lady! — You, yourself, 130
Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians!
Shame on you!
Sarolta. What! Glycine? Go, retire! [Exit GLYCINE.
Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself,
Or better still belike the maidens’ parents,
Might have complained to us. Was ever access 135
Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we
Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?
Old Bathory. So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience!
And must the gardener leave his seedling plants,
Leave his young roses to the rooting swine 140
While he goes ask their master, if perchance
His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?
Laska. Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady’s presence!
I will report her further will!
Sarolta. Wait then,
Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man! 145
Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on
A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!
[Then speaks to the Servants.
Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me!
Those rioters are no longer of my household!
If we but shake a dewdrop from a rose 150
In vain would we replace it, and as vainly
Restore the tear of wounded modesty
To a maiden’s eye familiarized to licence. —
But these men, Laska —
Laska (aside). Yes, now ‘tis coming.
Sarolta. Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards, 155
That they have sought to piece out their revenge
With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger
Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want
Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need
Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory! 160
Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you
Near my own person. When your son returns,
Present him to us!
Old Bathory. Ha! what strangers here!Your goodness, lady — and it came so sudden — 165
I can not — must not — let you be deceived.
I have yet another tale, but — [Then to SAROLTA aside.
not for all ears!
Sarolta. I oft have passed your cottage, and still praised
Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms
