University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Another Apartment in Vortigern's Palace.
Enter Vortigern.
Vor.
Thus far, then, have my deeds a sanction found,
For still each morn doth the resplendant sun
Dart forth its golden rays, to grace my sight.
O what an inconsistent thing is man!
There was a time when e'en the thought of murder
Would have congeal'd my very mass of blood;
“And, as a tree, on the approaching storm,
“E'en so my very frame would shake and tremble:”
But now I stand not at the act itself,
Which breaks all bonds of hospitality.—
To me, the King hath ever been most kind;
Yea, even lavish of his princely favours,—
And this his love I do requite with murder!
And wherefore this? What! for a diadem,
The which I purchase at no less a cost
Than even the perdition of my soul;
Still at that self same price will I obtain it.
The rooted hate the Britons bear the Scots
Is unto me an omen most propitious;
I have dispatch'd my secret emisaries,
And the young princes sons of the old King,
(A long time since for study sent to Rome)
Even for them have I prepared honours:
For ere the moon shall twice have fill'd her orb,
Death shall provide for them a crown immortal!

Enter Servant.
Serv.
Two officers, my lord! await your leisure.

Vor.
Well, shew them to our presence.
Enter Murderers.
Have ye concluded,
Is your answer ready?

Murd.
We have consider'd all,
And on your promis'd bounty undertake
A speedy execution.

Vor.
You are agreed?

Both.
Yes, my good lord.

Vor.
Listen then awhile!
This night Constantius gives a feast at which
He wills I should be present, mark me well,
For I will give the signal, and retire.
Then tarry not, but do it on the instant.

Murd.
Fear not, my noble lord, we are resolv'd.

[Exeunt.
Vor.
Now then good King prepare thee for the worst.
For ere the thick and noisome air of night
Shall with damn'd Hecate's baneful spells be fill'd,
Thou must from hence to the cold bed of death,
To whom alike peasant and king are slaves.
Come then black night, and hood the world in darkness,
Seal close the hearts of those I have suborn'd,
That pity may not turn them from their purpose.

[Exit.