 | The Mayor of Quinborough |  |
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SCENA 2.
Enter Aurelius and Uther with Soldiers, (Vortiger and Horsus above.)Uther.
My Lord, the Castle is so fortified.
Aur.
Let wild-fire ruine it,
That his destruction may appear to him
In the figure of Heavens wrath at the last day,
That Murtherer of our Brother. Hence away,
I'le send my heart no peace till it be consum'd.
Uth.
There he appears again, behold, my Lord.
Aur.
Oh that the zealous fire on my Souls Altar,
To the high Birth of Virtue consecrated,
Would fit me with a lightning now to blast him,
Even as I look upon him.
Uth.
Good my Lord,
Your anger is too noble and too precious
To waste it self on guilt so foul as his;
Let ruine work her will.
Vor.
Begirt all round?
Hor.
All, all, my Lord, 'tis folly to make doubs of it,
You question things that horror long ago
Resolv'd us on.
Vor.
Give me leave, Horsus, though—
Hor.
Do what you will, Sir, question them again,
I'le tell them to you.
Vor.
Not so, Sir,
I will not have them told again.
Hor.
It rests then.
Vor.
That's an ill word put in, when thy heart knows
There is no rest at all, but torment making.
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True, my heart finds it; that sits weeping bloud now
For poor Roxena's safety. You'l confess, my Lord,
My love to you has brought me to this danger?
I could have liv'd like Hengist, King of Kent,
London, York, Lincoln, and Winchester,
Under the power of my Command, the portion
Of my most just desert, enjoyed now
By pettier, Deservers.
Vor.
Say you so, Sir,
And you'l confess? since you began Confession
(A thing I should have died e're I had thought on)
Y'have marr'd the fashion of your affection utterly,
In your own wicked counsel, there you paid me,
You were bound in conscience to love me after,
You were bound to't, as men in honesty,
That vitiate Virgins, to give Dowries to them;
My faith was pure before to a faithful woman.
Hor.
My Lord, my Counsel—
Vor.
Why I'le be judg'd by these
That knit death in their Brows, and hold me now
Not worth the acception of a flattery,
Most of whose faces smil'd when I smil'd once; my Lords:
Uth.
Reply not, Brother.
Vor.
Seeds of scorn, I mind you not,
I speak to them alone whose force makes yours a power,
Which else were none. Shew me the main food of your hate,
Which cannot be the Murther of Constantius
That crawls in your Revenges; for your loves
Were violent long since that.
1 Lo.
And had been still,
If from that Pagan wound th'hadst kept thee free,
But when thou fledd'st from Heaven, we fled from thee.
Vor.
This was your Counsel now.
Hor.
Mine? 'twas the Counsel
Of your own lust and bloud, your appetite knows it.
Vor.
May thunder strike me from these walls, my Lords,
And leave me many Leagues off from your eyes,
If this be not the man, whose Stygian Soul
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Of all those false injurious disgraces
That have abus'd the vertuous patience
Of our Religious Queen.
Hor.
A Devil in madness!
Vor.
Upon whose life, I swear, there sticks no stain
But what's most wrongful, and where now she thinks
A rape dwels on her honour, only I
Her Ravisher was, and his the Policy.
Aur.
Inhumane practice!
Vor.
Now you know the truth,
Will his death serve your fury?
Hor.
My death?
Vor.
Say, will it do it?
Hor.
Say they should say 'twould doe't?
Vor.
Why then it must.
Hor.
It must?
Vor.
It shall, speak but the word, it shall be yielded up.
Hor.
Believe him not, he cannot do it.
Vor.
Cannot?
Hor.
'Tis but a false and base Insinuation
For his own life, and like his late submission.
Vor.
Oh sting to honour, alive or dead thou goest
Stabs him.
For that words rudeness only.
1 Lo.
See, sin needs
No other destruction then it breeds in its own bosom.
Vor.
Such another brings him.
Hor.
What, has thy vile rage stamp'd a wound upon me?
I'le send one to thy soul shall never heal for't.
Vor.
How, to my soul?
Hor.
It shall be thy master-torment
Both for the pain and the everlastingness.
Vor.
Ha, ha, ha.
Hor.
Dost laugh? take leave of it, all eternity
Shall never see thee do so much again:
Know th'art a Cuckold.
Vor.
What!
Hor.
You change too soon, Sir.
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She was my Whore in Germany.
Vor.
Burst me open the violence of whirl-winds.
Hor.
Hear me out first,
For her embrace, which my flesh yet sits warm in,
I was thy friend and follower.
Vor.
Deafen me
Thou most imperious noise that starts the world!
Hor.
And to serve both our lusts I practis'd with thee
Against thy vertuous Queen.
Vor.
Bane to all Comforts!
Hor.
Whose faithful sweetness, too precious for thy bloud,
I made thee change for loves Hypocrisie.
Vor.
Insufferable!
Hor.
Only to make my way to pleasure fearless, free & fluent.
Vor.
Hells Trump is in that throat.
Hor.
It shall sound shriller.
They stab each other.
Vor.
I'le damme it up with death first.
Rox. enters in fear.
Rox.
Oh for succour!
Who's neer me? help me, save me, the flame follows me,
'Tis in the figure of young Vortimer, the Prince,
Whose life I took by poyson.
Hor.
Hold out breath and I shall find thee quickly.
Vor.
I'le tug thy soul out here.
Hor.
Do Monster:
Rox.
Vortiger!
Vor.
Monster!
Rox.
My Lord!
Vor.
Toad, Pagan.
Hor.
Viper, Christian.
Rox.
Oh hear me,
Oh help me, my Love, my Lord, 'tis here,
Horsus look up, if not to succour me,
To see me yet consum'd; oh what is love
When life is not regarded?
Vor.
What strength's left I'le fix upon thy throat.
Both stab, Hor. falls.
Hor.
I have some force yet.
Rox.
No way to scape? is this the end of glory?
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It comes nearer, rivers and fountains fall,
It sucks away my breath, I cannot give
A curse to sin, and hear't out while I live. Help, help.
She falls.
Vor.
Burn, burn, now I can tend thee,
Take time with her in torment, call her life
A far off to thee, dry up her strumpet-bloud,
And hardly parch the skin, let one heat strangle her,
Another fetch her to her sense again,
And the worst pain be only her reviving,
Follow her eternally; oh mystical Harlot,
Thou hast thy full due, whom lust crown'd Queen before
Flames crown her now a most triumphant Whore.
And that end crowns them all.
He falls.
Aur.
Our peace is full,
In yon Usurpers fall, nor have I known
A Judgement meet more fearfully.
Here, take this Ring, deliver the good Queen,
And those grave pledges of her murthered honour,
(Her worthy Father, and her noble Uncle.)
How now! the meaning of these sounds?
Enter Hengist, Devon. Staf. & Soldiers.
Heng:
The Consumer has been here, she's gone,
In glowing Cinders now lye all my joys,
The headlong Fortune of my rash Captivity she's lost,
Strikes not so deep a wound into my hopes
As thy dear loss.
Aur.
Her Father and her Uncle!
1 Lo.
They are indeed, my Lord.
Aur.
Part of my wishes,
What fortunate power has prevented me,
And e're my love came, brought them victory?
1 Lo.
My wonder sticks in Hengist King of Kent.
Devon.
My Lord, to make that plain which now I see
Fix'd in astonishment; the only name
Of your Return and Being brought such gladness
To this distracted Kingdom, that, to express
A thankfulness to Heaven, it grew great
In charitable Actions, from which goodness
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Upon the Innocence of womans honour,
(A kindness that even threatned to undo us)
And having newly but enjoy'd the benefit
And fruits of our enlargement, 'twas our happiness
To intercept this Monster of Ambition,
Bred in these times of Usurpation,
The ranckness of whose Insolence and Treason
Grew to such height, 'twas arm'd to bid you Battle.
Whom, as our fames Redemption, on our knees
We present Captive.
Aur.
Had it needed reason
You richly came provided, I understood
Not your deserts till now; my honoured Lords,
Is this that German Saxon, whose least thirst
Could not be satisfied under a Province?
Heng.
Had but my fate directed this bold arm
To thy life, the whole Kingdome had been mine,
That was my hopes great aim; I have a thirst
Could never have been full quench'd under all,
The whole must doe't or nothing.
Aur.
A strange draught!
And what a little ground shall death now teach you
To be content withal?
Heng.
Why let it then,
For none else can, y'have nam'd the only way
To limit my Ambition, a full cure
For all my fading hopes and sickly fears;
Nor shall it be less we come to me now
Then a fresh acquisition would have been
Unto my new built Kingdoms; Life to me,
('Less it be glorious) is a misery.
Aur.
That pleasure we will do you; Lead him out,
And when we have inflicted our just doom
On his usurping head, it will become
Our pious care to see this Realm secur'd
From the Convulsions it hath long endur'd
Exeunt omnes:
| The Mayor of Quinborough | |