Lords and Lovers, and Other Dramas — Key Ideas to Explore

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Authors: Dargan, Olive Tilford, 1869-1968 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2016 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: American drama -- 20th century Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 77,350

Reading time 337 min

Text sections 14

This digital edition of Lords and Lovers, and Other Dramas — Key Ideas to Explore is described by source-level measurements including 77,350 words, 5 hr 37 min estimated reading time, and 14 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 10.9 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “American drama -- 20th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #51282

Olive Tilford Dargan's 1906 collection of three verse dramas—Lords and Lovers, The Shepherd, and The Siege—set in 13th-century England and revolutionary Russia, exploring tensions between personal loyalty and political duty, artistic devotion and human connection.

Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

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File: pg51282

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_Bal._ Vintner? An you put him in the trade the bishop will have you up for it.

_Ste._ A groat for your bishop, and that off your grandam's eyes! I'm no little king Henry pulled to mincemeat by his bishops and barons. "I'll take off your mitre," roars he to his bishop. "An you take off my mitre, I'll clap on a helmet, by the lord," says my bishop. "I'll have your castle!" shouts he to his baron. "An you take my castle, I'll give you London tower," says master baron. Ay, and he would, with the keeper thrown in.

_Bal._ And you too, if you bite not a bit from your tongue.

_Ste._ By the mass, I'll drink the king's ale, and I'll take the king's money, but I'll fight for none but Hubert de Burgh!

_God._ And he for the king--so you.

_Ste._ I care not how you make it. De Burgh is my master. I'll fight for him and with him and after him, but I'll wear a red sword for no bishop or baron or little king Harry in Christendom!

_Bal._ That may be so with more of us than you, but stop your mouth with good ale and let words alone.

_Ste._ And I'll go with him to the French court and pull Louis off the king's stool!

Hear, boys, hear! O, hear our captain call! We'll away, boys, away! For the love o' the sword and the love o' the money, We'll on to the wars, my brave fellows all, An they take our Jack they will leave our Johnny. Away, boys, away!

[_Enter Hubert and Roland_]

_Hub._ What cheer, my men? A fair morning for brave hearts. Can you keep this castle for me till I've had a bout at sea?

_A soldier._ That we can, sir!

_Ste._ I'll go with you, sir, by your leave. The castle will wait for us, I give you my word, sir.

_Hub._ You have seen the bottom of your glass too often to-night, Stephen.

_Ste._ God bless you, sir, there's where a soldier keeps his oath to serve God and his country, and he can't look it over too often. Take me wi' you, sir, and I'll prove you who lifts his glass the highest will wave his sword the longest. [_Kneels_] I was your father's soldier, sir, and hope to die yours.

_Hub._ Nay, I must leave trusty souls behind me. Let those who love me least fight under my eye, but I'll trust nay good Stephen around the world.

_Ste._ [_Rising_] Ay, sir! Rain arrows, hail bullets, we'll keep the castle against all weather!

_Hub._ [_Presenting Roland_] Then here's your brave captain. Follow him now, and farewell, good fellows--farewell, all!

[_Soldiers start out slowly, following Roland_]

_An old soldier._ [_Turning_] But you'll come again, sir?

_Another._ Ay, we'll see you back?

_Another._ An you come or come not, I kiss my sword to you, Hubert de Burgh, the bravest knight in all England!

_Hub._ Why, my hearts, would you start the liquor in my eyes? I go where there's brine enough. Twelve hours' sail with fortune will bring me back--but if I come not, remember your king!

They know 'tis death--they know 'tis death. And what Is that? We are all guests in God's great house, The Universe, and Death is but his page To show us to the chamber where we sleep. What though the bed be dust, to wake is sure; Not birds but angels flutter at the eaves And call us, singing.

_Ger._ The bags are all aboard, sir.

_Hub._ And portioned to every vessel?

_Hub._ Well despatched?

_Ger._ The men heaved as though the sacks held all the pope's treasury and they were to take their pay out of it.

_Hub._ Yet they found the contents not so heavy as gold, I hope.

_Ger._ Nor so light as feathers, sir.

_Hub._ But I pray they'll fly as well, and more to the purpose. Aboard with you now. I'll not be long behind you.

If this, my careful stratagem, should fail, God help the friendless boy on England's throne! Now Pembroke's noble strength must e'en to coffin; And Isabel across the sea cares not, But happier in a gentler husband's love Takes little thought of John of England's heir, Who has his father's beauty, not his heart,-- Just so much of that proud and guilty blood As makes him kingly nor corrupts his own. ... But, come, my soul! Prepare thee for a world Of rarer breath, lest thou too rudely go To th' high conclave of spirits. Father?

[_Enter friar Sebastian_]

_Fr. Seb._ Son, Art ready for the sacrament?

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Dargan's Lords and Lovers, and Other Dramas opens with a dying Pembroke exacting an oath from his son Richford to serve King Henry III, only to immediately undercut the vow by having Richford privately question the king's worth. This pattern of public allegiance shadowed by private reservation recurs throughout the three plays, each set in a distinct historical moment—13th-century England, biblical Judea, and revolutionary Russia—yet linked by characters caught between competing claims of love, art, and political action.

Oaths and Their Undermining

In Lords and Lovers, oaths are sworn with theatrical gravity but immediately tested. Pembroke makes Richford swear by God to serve the king, yet Richford's aside reveals his true priority: “I take this noble hand that ne'er was raised / 'Gainst country, throne or God, and by that God, / I vow to serve the king.” The wording is precise—he vows to serve, but his earlier question (“Where is the son / Would weep for Pembroke?”) suggests his loyalty is to his father, not the crown. Similarly, the legate Gualo's arrival from Rome is met with Pembroke's bitter remark, “Already I am dead,” implying that political maneuvering has rendered him irrelevant before his physical death. The play repeatedly stages moments where characters commit to one course while their language betrays another allegiance.

The Artist's Divided Self

In The Shepherd, the violinist Vasil articulates a central tension: “Art can breathe only through life. I must live! Art is for men and women.” Yet his mentor Adrian insists the true artist must be “as impersonal as the universe.” The excerpts show Vasil struggling to reconcile his desire to engage with suffering—wanting to attend a dangerous meeting, to understand those he plays for—with the demand that his art remain detached. When Adrian forbids him, Vasil retorts, “If I were imprisoned, racked, dying, / I should want the music to go on.” The dialogue is built on such antitheses: personal feeling versus artistic discipline, political involvement versus aesthetic purity. Dargan does not resolve the conflict; instead, she lets it vibrate through the characters' exchanges.

Power and Vulnerability in Speech

Across the plays, characters use language to assert control or reveal helplessness. Pembroke, dying, insists on keeping his “last words for his ears” (the king's), claiming “There's holy magic in the passing tongue / That stamps its truth unrasurable.” Yet his authority is already slipping—he is not told of Gualo's arrival. In The Shepherd, Sophie tells Vasil, “Make your country your goddess, not a woman,” but Vasil's reply (“My country! What is it? The thing that raised a knout”) dismisses that abstraction. The princess herself is caught between roles: she kisses Vera as a friend, then must assert “I am a princess” to maintain distance. Dargan's characters often speak in commands, pleas, or conditional statements (“If you make black / Your soul with violation of this oath”), revealing how power is negotiated through every utterance.

Readers attentive to the plays' verbal textures will notice how Dargan uses repetition, interruption, and silence—Adrian's hand on Vasil's bow, the dropped violin—to dramatize moments when words fail or are refused. The collection rewards those who listen for what is not said as much as what is, and who track how each play reworks the same core tensions in different historical keys.

There’s something about Dargan’s dramas that stays with you like an old ache—how loyalty and duty pull against the heart. I found myself thinking of that quiet tension when I revisited The Two Noble Kinsmen — Edition Insights, where friendship and love tangle just as gently, and leave the same unresolved hush afterwards.