University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Apartment in Vortigern's Palace.
Edmunda on a Couch, Flavia and Pascentius.
Soft Music.
Edm.
Indeed, my gentle maid, indeed, thou'rt kind,
And by those tears that glaze thy lovely eyes,
'Twould seem that truly thou did'st pity me.

Fla.
Pity thee, O Gods!

Edm.
Nay, wherefore weep ye both,
'Tis long, long since I was thus kindly treated,
Your pardon, but I fear you scoff at me.

Pas.
Doth she yet know you?

Fla.
Wou'd to Heaven she did.

Edm.
And yet there was a maid that once did love me,
Heigh ho! she went alack! I know not whither,
Thou ne'er did'st see her, else what I shall say
Methinks wou'd make thee vain, but yet indeed,
Thou seem'st right well to ape her pretty manners.

Fla.
This is too much, I cannot bear all this.

Edm.
Nay, nay, why shou'd'st thou wail and tremble so?
'Till this I thought that grief was only mine;
It is not fair to rob me of all comfort,
I thought thee honest, but indeed the world
Doth flatter, fawn, and stroke upon the face,
And sadly censure when the back is turn'd.

Pas.
O! dearest mother, say, dost thou not know me?

Edm.
Aye, aye, right well, thou'rt one by name a man:
Thy form is well enough, and thou may'st pass;
But hast thou a heart for melting pity?
For better be a brute,—
Than lack it under that most godlike form:
And yet I do thee wrong,—for even now
Thou didst add graces to that manly cheek,
With scalding tears! and for whom do you this?
For one that neither asks, nor merits it.

Enter Wortimerus and Catagrinus.
Wort.
How doth she now?

Pas.
Alas! she wanders yet, her mind's diseas'd.

Fla.
I am that maiden lost, your loving daughter.

Edm.
Bring here my glasses, stand before me here!
Now, now, I'll judge thee well, I'll see this straight,
And first her look was mild, in this thou'lt do;
Then she was kind, most excellent, and good,
Well, and so seemest thou; now for the last,
O! her heart was,—but thine I cannot see,
There thou deceivest me, I know thee not.
Yet if thou be my daughter,
On thy forehead is a mark,—
Away then with those locks from off thy front:
Now, let me look! O! gods, 'tis she, 'tis she.

Pas.
She faints, she faints! this shock is too afflicting
For her poor shatter'd, and disabled frame.

Fla.
O! dearest, kindest, and most gentle mother.

Edm.
Indeed, my brain is something cooler now,
I shou'd know you, Sir, and you too, nay all!
I'm very faint, alas, this joy o'ercomes me!

Fla.
Sweet mother, you need rest, we'll lead you in.

Edm.
Then be it so, and wilt thou sit and watch me?

Fla.
Aye, and I'll kneel and pray, and sometimes weep.

Edm.
Lead then, I'll in to rest, come follow me.

[Exeunt.
Enter Aurelius and Uter.
Aur.
The breach is made, the southern gate is forc'd,
Yet still doth he hold out, and hath ta'en flight
E'en to the tower, and there he'll wait the siege.

Uter.
Aurelius, your fair prisoner is no more.

Aur.
How say'st thou?

Uter.
Rowena hath ta'en poison and is dead.

Aur.
Then hath a wicked soul taken its flight
From the most lovely frame that e'er was form'd,
To charm or to deceive.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Cæsar's Tower.
Enter 1st. Baron and Officer.
Bar.
Is the King yet safe?

Off.
He is, my lord.

Bar.
Are many troops with us?

Off.
Two thousand full well arm'd; and braver men
Ne'er buckled on their limbs the glitt'ring steel.
O! what a sight it was to see the King.
No sooner had he reach'd the bridge, but firm,
And with a voice that wrung each coward heart,
He hail'd them to come on. Here then he stood,
In his right hand griping his massy ax,
Whilst with the left he held the brazen chain,—
Nor did he budge until each hardy soldier
Safely within the walls had entered.
Then waving thrice his cased hand in air,
And with a nod that spread pale fear around,
And seem'd to animate his bloody plume,
Triumphantly he bad them all defiance;
Then slowly turning with a horrid frown,
Soldiers, he cry'd, soldiers! break down the draw-bridge.
Like hail, in flight we pour'd on them our arrows,
Until their blood had stain'd the moat around us,—
But look, my lord, here comes the King.

Enter Vortigern.
Vor.
Why stand ye here, like fools, catching the air,
What! think ye this to be your mistress' chamber?

Bar.
My gracious Prince, we wait your orders here.

Vor.
Then fight I say.
Go get ye hence.—

Bar.
I go.

Vor.
No, no, thou must stay here, thou'rt my sole prop;
I sicken fast, and 'gin again to flag.
Pour forth, I pray thee now, some flatt'ring words,
For I am weary, and my lamp of life
Doth sadly linger, and wou'd fain go out,
For look you, my poor soul is sore diseas'd.

Bar.
Courage, my noble Sir.—

Vor.
Time was, alas! I needed not this spur.
But here's a secret, and a stinging thorn,
That wounds my troubled nerves, O! conscience! conscience!
When thou didst cry, I strove to stop thy mouth,
By boldly thrusting on thee dire ambition,
Then I did think myself indeed a god!
But I was sore deceiv'd, for as I pass'd,
And travers'd in proud triumph the Basse-court,
There I saw death clad in most hideous colours,
A sight it was that did appal my soul,
Yea, curdled thick this mass of blood within me.
Full fifty breathless bodies struck my sight,
And some with gaping mouths did seem to mock me,
Whilst others smiling in cold death itself,
Scoffingly bad me look on that, which soon
Wou'd wrench from off my brow this sacred crown,
And make me too a subject like themselves;
Subject! to whom? To thee, O sovereign death!
Who hast for thy domain this world immense;
Church-yards and charnel-houses are thy haunts,
And hospitals thy sumptuous palaces,
And when thou would'st be merry, thou dost chuse
The gaudy chamber of a dying King.
O! then thou dost ope wide thy hideous jaws,
And with rude laughter, and fantastic tricks,
Thou clap'st thy rattling fingers to thy sides;
And when this solemn mockery is ended,
With icy hand thou tak'st him by the feet,
And upward so, till thou dost reach the heart,
And wrap him in the cloak of lasting night.

Bar.
Let not, my lord! your thoughts sink you thus low,
But be advis'd, for should your gallant troops
Behold you thus, they might fall sick with fear.

Enter an Officer.
Off.
My lord! my lord!

Vor.
Wherefore dost tremble thus, paper-fac'd knave!
What news shou'd make thee break thus rudely in?

Off.
Indeed, indeed, I fear to tell you, Sir.

Vor.
Speak, vassal, speak! my soul defies thy tongue.

Off.
Your newly married Queen—

Vor.
Speak, what of her?

Off.
My lord, she hath ta'en poison, and is dead.

Vor.
Nay, shrink not from me now, be not afraid,
There, lie my sword! and with it all my hopes.

Lord.
Yet we may hope—

Vor.
O! friend, let not thy tongue delude with hope,
Too long against the Almighty have I fought.
Hope now is vain—I will not hear of it.

Off.
Yet is the breach not made, and we are strong,
Still we may out, my lord, and beat them off.

Vor.
Can wicked souls e'er stand before the just;
Can strength outweigh the mighty hand of God?
No, no, never, never—O! repentance,
Why dost thou linger thus to ask admittance?
Thou com'st, alas! too late, thou'rt stale and nauseous.
Where, where is now the good old murder'd King?
In fields of bliss, where guilty souls ne'er come.

Enter another Officer.
2nd. Off.
All, all is lost, the post is ta'en by storm;
The breach is made, they pour in fast upon us.

Vor.
If it be so, then will I out and die;
Now aid, ye gods! but if ye will not hear,
E'en then on hell I call again for succour!
My friends have boldly stemm'd this tide of war,
And shall I flinch at last and play the woman?
Let any but Aurelius meet my arm,
And this my sword shall ope a gate so wide,
That the imprison'd soul shall take its flight,
And either seek the murder'd King above,
Or down and join me in the pit below.

[Exeunt.

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.”