University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Basse-Court of the Tower.
Enter Aurelius and Uter.
Uter.
Where, brother, are the sons of Vortigern?

Aur.
I bade them with their gentle mother stay,
For much 'twould have offended righteous Heav'n,
If 'gainst their father they had join'd with us.
For here there always is a sacred tie,
Which suffers not a son's uplifted hand,
To strike a father, be he ne'er so vile.
Did he not give him birth, and nourish him?
And when thy direst foe becomes thy slave,
Say, shouldst thou use revenge? No, rather shame him
With pity and all-softening charity;
Then on a golden bed thou lay'st thy soul,
And art on earth a blessed angel.

Uter.
Brother, I do commend thee for this deed,
Worthy a Prince, worthy a Briton too.
But come! now, for this tyrant Vortigern!

Enter Officer.
Aur.
What's the news?

Off.
Th'ill fated King doth flee tow'rds Cæsar's Tow'r,
And half his troops have fall'n into our hands.

Aur.
Did ye obey mine orders?

Off.
Aye, my good lord, in ev'ry circumstance.

Aur.
Then Uter look, you march towards that same tow'r;
Let me, ye gods! but meet with this vile traitor,
And shou'd his soul not shrink beneath this sword,
Heav'n has no justice.

[Exeunt.
SCENE the Gate of Cæsar's Tower.
Enter Lord and Troops.
Lord.
In, in, for they do scar our very backs,
And score us cowards in our hasty flight.

Enter Vortigern.
Vor.
Give me another sword, I have so clogg'd
And badged this with blood, and slipp'ry gore,
That it doth mock my gripe. A sword, I say.

Lord.
Here, here, my noble lord!

Vor.
As with their bloods I stain'd my reeking blade,
From summit of the Tow'r the raven croak'd,
Th'heavy-wing'd crow did chatter o'er my head,
And seem'd to bear black laurels for this brow!
Yet did not erst the sun-defying eagle
O'er the world-conquering Macedonian hero,
Flutter, and lead his way to victory?
Then from thy jarring throat spit pestilence,—
And bird of hell, I'll take thee for my guide.

Lord.
The troops are enter'd,—please you follow them?

Vor.
I love not to be shut in walls of flint;
My soul likes better this vast field of air!
Let them come on.

Lord.
Consider, my dear lord, think of your safety.

Vor.
Must we then die? then wherefore in a door,
And rot with famine and with pale-fac'd hunger?
No, it were better die nobly, full-stomach'd,
Than linger out a six week's tedious siege.—
Do as you list, here firmly will I stand.

Lord.
Is it your pleasure they shall then proceed?

Vor.
Aye, e'en to it straight.—
Nay stop! why shou'd all these be doom'd to death?
The crime is mine, not theirs.—

Enter Aurelius.
Aur.
Villain and traitor, at thy word I take thee.

Vor.
Ah!—thy face the semblance of thy father's bears!
Thine eyes do pierce more than thy steel-clad arm.
Were fifty brave souls in that body cas'd,
Proudly I'd scorn them all, but alas! thy looks—

Aur.
Thou perjured wretch! thou most abhorred villain!

Vor.
Prate on, prate on; 'tis true I merit this;
But go not yet too far, lest, stripling boy,
You shou'd to indignation raise this blood,
Which thou hast turn'd from out its wonted course,
And make it fall on thee.

Aur.
Alike, I do defy thy rage and thee;
Where is my father!

Vor.
Curse upon thee, thou grat'st my soul,
O! if around this tatter'd conscience, e'er
Did cling repentance, I now cast it off.
[They fight and pause.
Yet stand aloof, and hear me yet a while?

Aur.
I will not.

Vor.
'Twere better that thou should'st, lest waxing warm
I rise, and pour upon thy unform'd limbs
That rage which 'gins to swell within my veins,
And lays a double murder on my soul.

Aur.
Come on, come on, I say!
[They fight, Vortigern is thrown to the ground.
Now, tyrant, now, I have thee in my power.

Vor.
Dost think I'll blanch my face, and be a coward?
A lily coward? No! strike then—
I ne'er will ask thy mercy.

Aur.
Now, traytor, where's my father?

Vor.
Murdered.

Aur.
And by whom?

Vor.
Is not the crown thine own?

Aur.
Aye, and is so by right; then speak, I say.

Vor.
I will not, boy, had'st thou ten thousand voices,
And lungs of brass to give them utterance,
I would not answer ought.

Aur.
Then die!

(Flavia comes forward.)
Fla.
O stop, Aurelius!
He is still my father!

Vor.
My daughter here! then curse thy tardy hand,
That lingers so in doing of its office;
Strike, strike, I do beseech thee, for I'm sick,
And do abhor the very light of Heaven.

Fla.
O! mercy! on my knees I beg for mercy.

Vor.
'Twas I, 'twas I, this hand thy father murdered.

Aur.
And say'st thou this, e'en to my face?

Vor.
Aye, to thy face, and in thy ears I'll din it,
'Till thou for mercy's sake shalt strike the blow.

Enter Wortimerus, Catagrinus, Soldiers, Lords, &c.
Wort.
What! my father?

Aur.
My Flavia, for thy sake I grant him life.

Vor.
In charity then I pray ye bear me hence!

Aur.
Aye, lead him towards the Friars.

Vor.
Yea, where ye list, but take me from this sight.

[Vor. is led out.
Aur.
How fares Edmunda?

Wort.
Her mind is somewhat better, yet she's feeble.

Aur.
Well! of your father doth she e'er say ought?

Wor.
Aye, truly, but she haply thinks him dead.

Enter Uter.
Uter.
Of all, the King hath truly made confession,
To you he justly renders up the crown,
And bade me hail you rightful King of Britain.

(All Kneel.)
All.
Hail to Aurelius,
Lawful King of Britain.

Pascentius enters.
Pas.
to Aur.
Vortigern on thee bestows our sister,
And bade me, in his name, present her hand—

Aur.
Which I do kiss, and with the self same breath,
Do hail her wife, and Britain's lovely Queen.

All.
All hail to Flavia, Queen of Britain.

Aur.
Much, we confess, we owe to all here present;
Each distinct service we shall well repay,
As best befits the dignity of our state;
To-morrow, Lords, we'll meet at Westminster,
For your ripe ages, and experience,
Must teach our young and giddy years the way,
To sow content after these dismal times.
[Curtain drops.
“Fool comes forward.”
“Methinks but now I heard some gentles say,
“Where's master Fool? I'troth he's run away.
“Right! for look you, when there be danger near,
“He then most courage hath who most doth fear;
“Besides, observe, I came not here to fight,
“Let him that dares, say nay, for I am right;
“I will not out and risk a knocking down,
“For though I like our King, I like my crown;
“Besides, there is a time for Fools to play,
“But then they must have nought, save good to say.
“Chance you will ask if this be tragedy,
“We kill indeed, yet still 'tis comedy;
“For none save bad do fall, which draws no tear,
“Nor lets compassion sway your tender ear;
“Play! we'll grant it—the story ye have read,
“For 'tis well chronicled in Hollinshed;
“Give then your plaudits, and when that be done,
“Your Fool shall bow, and thank ye ev'ry one.”