Part 30 (1/2)

_Eleanor._ Pride of the plebeian!

_Fitz Urse._ And this plebeian like to be Archbishop!

_Eleanor._ True, and I have an inherited loathing of these black sheep of the Papacy. Archbishop? I can see farther into man than our hot-headed Henry, and if there ever come feud between Church and Crown, and I do not charm this secret out of our loyal Thomas, I am not Eleanor.

_Fitz Urse._ Last night I followed a woman in the city here. Her face was veiled, but the back methought was Rosamund--his paramour, thy rival. I can feel for thee.

_Eleanor._ Thou feel for me!--paramour--rival! No paramour but his own wedded wife! King Louis had no paramours, and I loved him none the more. Henry had many and I loved him none the less. I would she were but his paramour, for men tire of their fancies; but I fear this one fancy hath taken root, and borne blossom too, and she, whom the King loves indeed, is a power in the State. Follow me this Rosamund day and night, whithersoever she goes; track her, if thou can'st, even into the King's lodging, that I may (_clenches her fist_)--may at least have my cry against him and her,--and thou in thy way shouldst be jealous of the King, for thou in thy way didst once, what shall I call it, affect her thine own self.

_Fitz Urse._ Ay, but the young filly winced and whinnied and flung up her heels; and then the King came honeying about her, and this Becket, her father's friend, like enough staved us from her.

_Eleanor._ Us!

_Fitz Urse._ Yea, by the blessed Virgin! There were more than I buzzing round the blossom--De Tracy--even that flint De Brito.

_Eleanor._ Carry her off among you; run in upon her and devour her, one and all of you; make her as hateful to herself and to the King as she is to me.

_Fitz Urse._ I and all should be glad to wreak our spite on the rose-faced minion of the King, and bring her to the level of the dust, so that the King--

_Eleanor._ If thou light upon her--free me from her!--let her eat it like the serpent and be driven out of her paradise!

The story of Nathan Hale might be made into a play with patriotism as its dominant idea, a close character study of Hale himself, or little more than a love story. Notice the way in which with Clyde Fitch the close of the acts steadily emphasizes the love story as the central interest. The first scene is in the school room where Hale is the teacher of Alice Adams.

(_Hale goes toward Alice with his arms outstretched to embrace her; Alice goes into his arms--a long embrace and kiss; a loud tapping on a drum outside startles them._)

_Hale._ The Tory meeting!

_Alice._ Fitzroy will be back. I don't want to see him!

_Hale._ Quick--we'll go by the window! (_Putting a chair under the window he jumps onto chair; then leans in the window and holds out his hands to Alice, who is on the chair._) And if tomorrow another drum makes me a soldier--?

_Alice._ It will make me a soldier's sweetheart!

_Hale._ Come.

(_She goes out of the window with his help, and with loud drum tattoo and bugle call, the stage is left empty and the curtain falls._)

The second act at Colonel Knowlton's house closes on Hale's decision to serve his country as a spy:

_Alice._ (_In a whisper._) You _will_ go?

_Hale._ I must.

_Alice._ (_A wild cry._) Then I hate you!

_Hale._ And I _love you_ and always will so long as a heart beats in my body. (_He wishes to embrace her._)

_Alice._ No!

(_She draws back her head, her eyes blazing, she is momentarily insane with fear and grief, anger and love. Hale bows his head and slowly goes from the room. Alice, with a faint heartbroken cry, sinks limply to the floor, her father hurrying to her as the curtain falls._)

This is the close of Act III.