Scene 4
Cast of Scene 4:
Richard, lord of the Yarbury
estates
The
Anchoress, a female hermit
enclosed in a cell built into the wall of St. Julian’s church, accessible only
by an interior window, whom later history would know as “Julian of Norwich”
Mary, Richard’s wife
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[Richard enters St. Julian’s Church]
Richard: How chill! How dark!
Not unlike my heart.
And yet, even in darkness, my heart
knows the way.
Even though plain sight is forborne
By these shadows and flickering
candle-flames,
I know where her window lies.
I know its shape, its height, its
width, its rocky curvature,
But most of all, I know the face
Of she who dwells
inside.
Anchoress! Are you there?
Anchoress!
Answer me, lest my anguish
unsanctify
Thy office with thy
former name,
Much beloved
to my ears!
The Anchoress: I am here, as ever I am.
What disturbs thee, Lord Yarbury?
Richard: Oh, throw not these daggers at our former affection!
Speak thou my name, if thou canst
still remember it!
The
Anchoress: Our former
affections belong elsewhere—
Another world: created, judged, and ended long ago.
Richard:
Yes, Anchoress, I know.
I am not here to play the God of resurrection,
And
render a field of dry bones breathing.
But
still, ‘twould speak peace to my heart
To hear thee say my name.
The
Anchoress: Why come ye here,
Richard?
Richard:
To ask about the love of God,
And of his judgment.
The
Anchoress: Have I the answers
to such mysteries?
Make question of the crucifix, thorn, and chalice;
Inquire
of the blood of Christ,
And
thou shalt learn the open secret
Of uncreated love
And the judgment of our sins.
[The
doors of the church are thrown open, and Mary enters]
Mary: Richard…
Richard: Speak, Mary. What’s happened?
Mary: He dies. Charles. Our son.
Gone.
Richard: No…
Let thy words be hateful jest,
Or mistake of darkness born;
But let it not be truth.
Mary: Truth it is. Yes…dead.
And here I find thee,
Not abiding at my side,
Not courageously making
stand
Against my hateful,
ill-chosen words
In order to be strength
to me
When most I needed thee.
No, here I find thee,
Trading whispers in the
dark
With thy
once-and-ever love.
Richard: ‘Tis not for lack of love for thee,
Nor for consolations from my younger
days
That I take refuge with the
Anchoress.
I seek out here the truth of what
thou spoke:
Is it I? Is my sin the
cause of Charles’ death?
God help me, Mary, I must know!
It was thy words that
drove me here.
The
Anchoress: He speaks truth,
Lady Yarbury.
He asked me of God’s love and judgment.
Mary:
I need not hear your voice,
Anchoress.
My husband’s love was always yours,
Always and forever yours!
Your
smile, your peace, your flaxen hair,
They
haunt his dreams;
They
haunt my life!
He
chose thee; thou chose the cell,
And
left me with the dregs
Of
exhausted, emptied affection!
I
remember watching when they entombed thee there,
Stone by stone,
And
the peace in thine eyes was hateful to me,
Because with every stone laid down,
Mortared solid ‘gainst the world,
I saw my Richard’s heart entombed,
Forever banished to a godless crypt
From whence no blessed resurrection
E’er could set it free.
Speak
not to me, Anchoress.
Richard:
Too harsh, Mary.
If any fault, it was my own.
I
have striven to love thee,
Labored
and learned,
With
all that I could offer.
Mary:
It wasn’t enough;
The offering lacked thy truest self.
And
now the one treasure we had built together
Is
gone.
Dead
and gone.
And
so then am I.
[Mary
turns to go]
Richard:
Mary, wait!
Whatever failures went before,
Let
not this moment be added to the list!
Let
me weep with thee.
Mary:
Tears shared among strangers
Are bitter consolation.
Stay
here with the shadow
Of
thy first-chosen, much-preferred life.
‘Tis
the only one remaining thee.
[Mary
exits. A moment later, Richard runs out after her.]