University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

—THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO, as before.
The veil raised, King Gorbudoc kneeling at the altar, Videna and Dunwarro, the Priest in the back-ground.
Videna.
Hadst thou but heeded my soliciting—

King
(rising).
It had been to recall my kingly word.

Videna.
It had been thus; and may not Kings repent?

King.
Alas, no more than gods: and they are gods,
Yet human; wise, but not all wise, and err
Like other mortal seed. Who reign, should be
Gods altogether, not in part. O for
The measure of their excellence. But earth
Has never yet beheld a perfect King.

Dunwarro.
Hath Heaven?

King.
'Tis right. Nought but old Fate is pure,
And gods and men and nature bow to it,
The ineffable, whose will is never known
Till acted. Haply, some forgotten charm
Attached to that wrecked gold, concerning which
Thus destiny becomes oracular.
May we not pluck it from the altar here,
And cast it to the waves wherefrom it came?

Priest.
'Tis holy now, and hath, thou sawst, been taken
Into the gracious keeping of the god,
Who, as I deem, for thee preserves it so
Till this great strife shall cease.

Videna.
He speaketh well,
My royal Lord. This priest hath spoken well.
For Fate on such things hangs not its high will,
But on man's own; therewith it worketh what
It works, and therefore holds us liable
For whatsoe'er results; hence, blame we not
Calamity, but proper indiscretion.

King.
A bitter physic givest thou to me,
Videna.

Videna.
O my Lord; I speak the truth.

Dunwarro.
Lady, it may be better than we think.
For it appears Philander's complete news,
As told by Dordan, has this further scope—
That, hard upon his heels, a herald came,
Haply with words of peace, to compromise
The differences at issue. Well it were
Your majesties should now advantage ye
Of this same holy place wherein ye are,
For your protection. War even would not venture
To violate this sanctuary; and here
The herald would be shielded in his duty
No less by this pure roof than his good office.

Priest.
'Tis wisely counselled. There may ye repose,
And of the type and diadem of power
Keep sacred guard yourselves.
[Priest takes the crown from the altar and places it on Gorbudoc's head, who kneels.]
Within, there is
A chamber that is fitting.

King.
Lead. We follow.

[Exeunt.
Dunwarro
(manet).
There comes, I see, Marcella with the herald.

Enter Marcella followed by Porreo, disguised as a herald.
Porreo.
May I depend upon thy faith? This garb—
Will it prevail to save a friend of Porreo?

Marcella.
The herald still is sacred; and this place,
My father's presence, too—

Dunwarro.
I pledge my word
That thou art safe, though thou wert Porreo's self.

Porreo.
Though I were Porreo's self?

Marcella.
I know thy voice.

Porreo.
Then know my countenance. See, at thy feet
Thy lover kneels. He comes to claim the heart
Erewhile was his.

Marcella.
Ere he conceived ambition.

Porreo.
Ambition—I confess I have ambition.
I pant to see Marcella wear the crown
Her beauty merits; such as well befits
The daughter of Dunwarro.

Dunwarro.
Tempt not me,
Young man, with such suggestions.

Porreo.
Why, I thought
Thou wert a statesman.

Dunwarro.
Thou hast said it, boy.
A statesman, who is worthy of the name,
Is one whose heart is as the seat of truth;
Whose mind is as the sacred house of law;
Whose will the chamber of all equity.
The graces that in other men are single,
In him are but integers of his virtue;
Which is a thing so perfect, so complete,
He has no other interest but his country's.
Thy wild desire would wound her womb with hoof
Of battle-steed; and with the scythèd car
Would mow, like rankling grass, her patriots down,
And make a desolation of her fields.
He is no statesman who could help thy cause,
Though its success might crown his daughter Queen
Of entire Britain on both sides the Humber.
Cursed would she be in such a King as thou,
Who needest such a statesman as the base
Alone esteem—a selfish tool of wrong.

Porreo.
Are thus my proffers flouted? Rail ye thus
As at a traitor? Why? Because enforced
To claim the maiden stolen from my heart.

Dunwarro.
By whom?

Porreo.
By Ferrex.

Dunwarro.
Treacherous pretext
For this unnatural strife. Most vain pretence.
Seal but thy peace with thy too generous brother—
She is thy wife, as she was thy betrothed.
Marcella, go, discover princely Ferrex,
And, with such influence as in thee commands him,
Conduct him hither.

[Exit Marcella.
Porreo.
Wouldst thou, sir, betray me
Into the power of my enemy?

Dunwarro.
Thy enemy? Thy brother. Fear thou not
His honour, as I answer it with mine.

Porreo.
Thine? his? And by what magic charmst thou him?
The spell of her sweet looks? And shall I bear
My rival ushered by the maid I love?
Why—look I like an idiot, that thou deemst
I can be cozened with a trick so gross?

Dunwarro.
Have patience.

Enter Videna.
Videna.
Whence this noise? What man is he?

Porreo.
Thy son.

Videna.
Ha!—But be hushed. Thy father sleeps.
His sorrows have in slumber found repose
Within yon chamber. Do not waken him;
Unless, as thou dost wear the herald's garb,
Thou bearst his peaceful message.

Porreo.
O, my mother,
Why have I not in thy capacious heart
That equal share of love a son may claim?
Why to my brother art thou so profuse,
Supplying him with comfort from the spring,
And scarcely leavest a narrow rill for me
To drink at, though consumed with mortal thirst?

Videna.
I am not now in mood to brook reproaches;
Therefore, reproach me not. I am thy mother;
And with a mother's fondness cherished thee,
An infant at my breast; unwillingly
Was reft of thy dear presence, and of thee
Sweet memories in thine absence still conceived;
Nor with less warmth my heart expanded then,
When, in thy manhood, suddenly these eyes
Beheld thee well-accomplished in all graces,
Beauty of person, eloquence of lip,
Demeanour bold, and royal heroism—
What hast thou lost to passion, lust of power?
What glory, passing that of earthly kings,
What riches, all the treasures of the world.

Porreo.
Mother, I may not understand, perchance,
The fashion of your court; yet have I learned
Something—since nature taught me in this frame
There beat a heart as haughty as my brother's,
A wit as able, and a soul as brave.
I read no law of inequality,
That told me I was subject, he was King.

Videna.
Poor is the spirit that's not rich enough
To fancy virtue higher than its own—
'Tis poorer than the brute that worships man.

Porreo.
Because the man of higher order is—
Brute unto brute is equal—man to man.
Less than a god shall not be King to me.

Videna.
Resign thou, then, the crown thou hast re-received,
That thou be not a King to other men.

Porreo.
Behold my answer. See, my rival, there,
Led by my mistress.
Enter Marcella and Ferrex.
Sir, well met. But first,
Renounce that hand—'tis mine.

Ferrex.
Not till withdrawn.
Had it not willingly been placed in this,
It had not wooed me hither.

Porreo.
Shame should scorch it,
If that unasked its unreluctant palm
Dared cope with thine, reluctant.

Marcella.
Wherefore, Porreo,
Should it be shamed, by all fair means, to teach
Thy brother's hand, raised 'gainst thee by thyself,
Once more the way of peace?

Porreo.
I want not peace.
War only can expect to reconcile
The enmities that were engenderèd
Of the same mother.

Videna.
Here she is. Repeat
Again that impious calumny. Thou liar!
War reconciles not, but destroys,—'tis death.
But it was life I gave to both of you—
Life from the fount of love.

Porreo
(leaping on Ferrex, and seizing him by the throat).
Art thou not, too,
A liar? Though thou speakst not with thy tongue,
Speaks not thine heart as mine?

Ferrex.
Unhand me, Porreo.

Porreo.
Not I.

Videna.
Unhand him, heathen (seizes Porreo).


Enter the King.
King.
What, again!
Once I beheld thy weapon at his heart,
And (fool) believed thee honest. Now, once more,
Thy violent hands are on thy brother thus.
I dreamt of this—I had a dream of this—
While slumbering on the couch in yonder chamber;
And thou art here even as I dreamed. Thy brow,
It has a name of horror written on it.
On thy allegiance, quit thy murtherous hold.

Videna
(rending him away).
As well cope with the she-wolf as with me.
More than a woman's temper wakens here,
More than a woman's strength.

Marcella.
Vehement Porreo,
If thou hast loved me ever, hear me now
Implore thee for thy good. Be placable.
Calm thy resentment; seek for pardon.

Porreo.
Pardon?
Here, Ferrex; take the serpent from my feet.
—But, as thou venturest nigh to touch her only,
Beware lest vengeance grasp not both, and stab,
Stab one heart through the other.

Dunwarro.
It shall not need—
I take her from thy person.

Porreo.
What art thou?

Dunwarro.
Her father.

Porreo.
What is that? My parents, sir,
Have Madness for their son!

[Exeunt Dunwarro and Marcella.
King.
And what have ye,
Sons, for your father?—Whom shall I acquit
Of what has made his head grow bald with folly,
Which wisdom should have silvered?—Both of ye,
O disobedient and rebellious men,
Are children of Astonishment and Terror.
Ye are justly punished both. Ah, Ferrex, Ferrex,
Who wert the first to violate thy duty,
Thou hast been justly paid—by him, whom thou
Preferredst to thy father.

Ferrex.
My dread sire,
Thus humbly on my knees, I pray thee, hear
A plea so righteous that, before Apollo,
I give it venturous breath. Who knoweth not
What dreams, though waking, had beguiled my youth
With glorious shades of virtue, unattained
By mortal man. I grant by Heaven, yet still
I was deceived; and recompense is none
For generous purpose. Fair the vision is,
But false.

King.
No, son. But thou wert faithless—feared
To try that to the end, which will be tried
Full oft till death; and what it here denies
There treasures for us—in the glad hereafter.
Think.—Canst thou vouch thy motive was so pure,
As righteously might challenge instant guerdon?

Porreo.
No, 'twas, be sure, as foul as 'twas unfilial.

Ferrex.
Thou seizedst once on me—Now, false ingrate,
Defend thyself.

[Draws—Porreo also draws, but the King throws himself between them.]
Porreo.
Come forth, my trusty sword,
My hand shall pledge thy hilt. Marcella be
The bride of Ferrex, if Marcella will.
But Porreo shall wed thee. Come forth, my bride
Of steel, thou bright and beautiful. I've loved
Thy flashing smile full long, my own betrothed,
The chosen of my heart. Impatient thou,
Thy plighted love were wedded? There, pale maid,
But, anon, radiant blushes glow on thee—
Thou art panting, now, for glory. Our love-bower,
All roses, blooms. Sweet, thou'rt unveil'd. I burn,
In gazing on thy naked loveliness,
Whose dower is blood.

King.
Thy father's! Sheathe your swords
Here in your father's heart. Sirs, ye wound not
Yourselves so much as me, who gave you life—
Ye clench at your CREATOR your foul fists,
And smite the image of the god, religion
Commands ye worship. Not a blow ye aim,
But makes Apollo shudder with remorse;
And his fine sympathy, dwelling in me,
With agonistic pains of gory sweat,
Threatens my dissolution. Ye care not,
Though all the angry words, ye cast together,
Be pointed arrows in your parents' hearts—
Though every scowl, ye bend on one another,
Swell as a black cloud there, and burst in thunder
Within the last recesses of their souls.
Ye care not, though your mother, where she stands,
Stiffen to marble, and grow speechless with
Passion too big for utterance. Shame, oh, shame,
I muse that it should burn not through your cheeks,
Calcine the lashes of your eyes, and molten
Into twin jelly globes those orbs themselves,
Swimming in fire, consuming and dissolving,—
Nay, that, like liquid fire within the blood,
It melt not through the marrow and the flesh
That's in and on the bones, with bones and all.
Sure, shame should thus reveal himself in you,
A god, like Jove, when arrogant Semele
Perished for her presumption. What's the spell
That fascinates my vision? I'll not gaze
On you to see your blasting. Never more
Would I fain look on either.

[Exit.
Porreo.
Brother, I go. We meet again in battle.

Ferrex.
I fear not thee—thy prowess nor thy skill.

[Exeunt at opposite sides.
Videna.
Am I indeed a she-wolf, and but guelved
When these were born? Ferocious impulses
Speak to me from within, and horrible
Suggestions make my heart a charnel-cave,
Where creatures loving carnage meet to revel.

Re-enter the King.
King.
Gone? Have they gone?

Videna
(solemnly).
They have—worse foes than when
They met.

King.
Can I help that, thou speakest thus
With emphasis?

Videna.
With emphasis?

King
(angrily).
Yes—echo;
With intonation, as if, from the deep,
Thou calledst, with a charm, the fiends of strife.
Why, with that dim upbraiding look, gaze on me,
Videna?

Videna.
Gaze on thee? Wherefore art angry?
And why with me? And what avails it here?
For am I not accursèd in my children?
And what can thy wrath add to that affliction,
Or Heaven's own plagues themselves? Come—rail and rave,
That it may turn the current of my soul
Into less bitter channel. Try it now—
And own how vain thy age's craftiness (smiling hysterically).


King.
Thou laughest at me, even thou, Videna.
'Tis true, I am thy elder; but not much—
Some few years;—nor am I, like Clotyn, old
To a miracle:—nay, am still, or was, a day
Or two ago, a vigorous man; who, but
For love of his two sons, might still have held,
For many years to come, with no slack hand,
The sceptre; and may yet this golden crown
Wear as my own. Videna, nay, Videna,
I'm not so old, that thou shouldst laugh at me
For a despisèd driveller.

Videna.
Ha, ha, ha! (laughing hysterically.)


King.
O, agony, what force is on thee now?
Pray, Jove, thou craze not.

Videna.
Ha, ha, ha!

King.
Videna,
Weep—weep; laugh not, Videna.

Videna.
Ha, ha, ha! (she falls—King stands petrified with pity and terror.)


[Scene closes.

SCENE II.

—FIELD OF BATTLE.
Men cross, fighting. Trumpets sound. Enter Dunwarro, Ferrex, and Soldiers.
Dunwarro.
O dire effects of civil war. Thy brother
Loegra abets, and Cambria, with their Dukes—
But Inmer's men lie dead upon the field,
And Cambria now has with Albania leagued,
To meet us in fresh battle. Will it please thee
To heed my counsel, Prince?

Ferrex.
When turned I ever
A deaf ear to thy wisdom?

Dunwarro.
Once—or these
Mischances had not been.

Ferrex.
I see my error—
But spare me thy rebukes.

Dunwarro.
Here then we part—
Thou to the left, and I unto the right.
Make onset thou on these confederate hosts
With thy whole force; whiles I, with my six hundred,
Inquire my way where Inmer's men lie slain.
These found, their bodies yield their armour up,
In clothing for my troop, whom, thus disguised,
Will I guide on to where the enemy
Think themselves most secure; assault them there,
Ere they detect the feint, and, that achieved,
Rear high my ensign for thyself to note,
Even from the opposite quarter of the field;
Which seeing, take new courage, and confirm
Victory by instant action.

Ferrex.
Wisely planned.

Dunwarro.
Now then to work. March on—these men are mine.

[Exit.
Ferrex.
These, mine. I have no heart for this day's work,
Yet is constraint upon me to perform it.

[Trumpets—exeunt omnes.

SCENE III.

—ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Enter Porreo and Enyon.
Porreo.
Enyon, I am well pleased with thy suggestion.
It shall be so. Let all the wells be poisoned,
That he who drinks may drink his death. Provide
Our army first, and let each man among us
Have order to abstain from brook or fountain.
Match us in force they may—but not in guile.
Our courage, backed with cunning, cannot fail.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

—INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE, as before.
Videna discovered seated at the altar. King Gorbudoc and Marcella in front of the stage.
Marcella.
Was ever maid so wretched? Forth hath gone
My sire against my lover, him to slay.
War terrible, when nation against nation
Meet in fierce strife upon the neutral field—
But, when 'tis house 'gainst house, or, worse than so,
The family within 'gainst one another,
Parent 'gainst child, and brethren against brethren—
Not only terrible art thou, O war,
But odious, without honour, without heroism,
Nothing but blood and tears, and broken hearts.

King.
Life has for thee a long and hopeful way
For happy travel yet. For thee remain
Yet many flowery paths and pleasant views—
And well for thee that still, within the springs
Of those fair eyes, abides a fount of tears—
Would that Videna's matron orbs might pour
Such plenteous shower, or shed one slender drop;
Then might the silent stubborn misery,
That eats her up, solution hope to find.

Videna
(rising).
'Tis done. Sweet pity's angel for thy griefs,
Marcella, felt what I might not for mine.
Thy tender plainings made me pity thee,
For there was that in them was pitiable.
Thy griefs had not outgrown all sympathy;
And, while thy tears were flowing, mine began,
And once again this heart is almost human.

King.
Videna, then again thou knowest me?
Thou art not now a fearful mockery
Of age and sorrow and infirmity,
But hast to me returned a gracious Queen.

Videna.
Returned indeed. For on a distant journey
I verily have been—and, in my trance,
My heart was hardened to a rock—and is.
Yet am I bent to meet the worst can chance—
And that the worst will happen well I know.
But I am armed—am rigid—every nerve
And fibre of my body is upstrung,
Like a set harp, for the dread solemn music
That fate means it to utter. I but bide
The period that is doomed—nor shall wait long.

Enter Philander.
King.
Well, speak thy business, boy.

Philander.
A horseman comes
Flying this way with such unearthly speed,
I could not choose but tell thee.

King.
Forth again,
And watch his course.

[Exit Philander.
Videna.
His course is hither. Yes,
The end hastes on.

King.
But it may not be evil—

Videna.
It must be.

King.
'Tis the kindness of the gods
To me, that they do make thee thus despair;
Whence, seeking to compose thy mightier woe,
I minister that comfort to us both
I had scorned else myself.

Re-enter Philander.
Philander.
The horseman is
Prince Porreo: he has dashed him from his steed,
And now is entering.
[Exit Philander.

King.
Calmly now, Videna.

Videna.
Fear me not, King—I am calm—I am stone—and thou?

King.
A wave that waits the wind.

Enter Porreo.
King.
What dost thou here?
To make submission, as a conquered man,
That thou hast left alone the field of battle?

Porreo.
I am a conquered man—who has lost all.

King.
Thou mightst have lost it to a sterner foe,
Who would make no return—but, if repentant,
Thou'rt still our son. Thy brother, then, is victor?

Porreo.
He too is vanquished—

King.
Speak not riddles, boy.
There was no third for victor o'er ye twain.

[Porreo remains silent.
Videna.
I know it, ere thou tellest me—yet speak.

Porreo.
Ferrex lives not.

Videna.
And it was thou who slewest him?

Porreo.
Alas!

Videna.
In open fight, or by a secret stroke?

Porreo.
In open fight, and not by secret stroke.

Videna.
On the fair plain?

Porreo.
My mother, even so.

Marcella
(to Videna).
And is it in thy heart to question thus;
When Ferrex lies upon the bloody field,
Slain by his brother?

Porreo.
Thou, Marcella, thou?

Marcella
(to Porreo).
Hence, for I find thou hast led my heart astray,
Which now I read aright—which should have loved him,
For virtues such as I ne'er saw in thee—
Misled by thy fair outside, how untrue.
How comely was the frankness of thy brow,
How princely was thy cheerful countenance,
How manly was thy breast, thy arms how lithe,
Thy limbs how graceful in their symmetry.
When thou wert mounted on thy generous steed,
For chase or tilt, with favours in thy helm,
At leisure or in tourney, never man
Was better formed to charm a lady's eye,
Was worthier seen to win a lady's heart.
But HE did wear the beauty in his soul,
The fitness we admired was in his mind,
And grandeur by his spirit was upheld.
There, where he lies on the red field of death,
Will I find out his corse, and, gazing on it,
Proclaim unto his spirit, hovering near,
What love I felt for him—but now first known.
[Exit Marcella.

Porreo.
Now am I lost, indeed. Abandoned thus,
To whom for safety shall I now repair?

King
(coming solemnly forward).
To me.—Look in my face—thou canst not?—Ah!—
Well—well. I will be calm as is thy mother.
She sets me good example—I will learn it—
Gods, gods! I'm patient. Tell thy tale right out,
That I may know what exculpation—what
Atonement has been—or is needed—speak.

Porreo.
Father, with wounded soul, I will obey.
The armies met—I saw him at the head
Of valiant numbers; wrath, and pride, and hate,
And jealousy, ay, and a thousand passions,
Which now his blood has quenched, perplexed my brain—
I sought him—he avoided me—but still
Him I pursued from point to point, till, seeing
Our party got advantage by the turns
He was compelled to take, to avoid my hunt,
He stood at bay. He fought, and with a valour
That showed he shunned me not from cowardice;
And I confess, with evident regard,
Forbore to smite me, when 'twas in his power.
But hell urged on my arm, and I smote him,
Even to the death. Then victory seemed mine—
But, at the moment, from the southern side,
Dunwarro, leading on slain Inmer's troops,
A troop of ghosts—(for so they seemed to me
In my confusion)—rushed from midst the lines
Of my own ranks, and, putting all to rout,
With tresses wildly rent, unhelmed and shieldless,
Scarce left me leisure to escape.

King.
And better
Had it been for thee thou hadst ne'er escaped.
Come, bare thy breast, and let my sword dig deep
Thy false heart from thy bosom.

Videna.
Seize upon
The altar's horns, O Porreo, and be safe.
[He does so.
For thee, O Gorbudoc, of Brutus' line,
Thou monarch of the ancestry of Troy,
This vengeance fits not thee. No, nor thine age,
Nor famous memory, shall be stained with blood.

King.
'Twere divine justice should I kill him now.
—Thy temple, and thy shrine, Apollo, guard him?
Restrain me not, aught holy, aught divine,
Lest I grow mad. Ye gods, are ye not fathers?

[Pacing round the stage in agony.
Porreo
(having taken refuge at the altar, kneeling).
What can I make of this? Surprise confounds me.
My mother, like the statue of a god,
Stands, in indifferent majesty serene,
As if the dead were nothing, having left
One of her children living; while my sire,
In vehement transport, circles round the fane,
With infinite swiftness, like a thunder cloud
Driven by a whirlwind o'er a wilderness.
Gods! terrible for him who slays his brother
To meet again his parents, terrible.

King
(suddenly stopping).
Then be it so. But what it is forbid
A father's sword to do, is not forbid
A father's curse. Hear me, thou sun, whose beams
Were not turned back when this misdeed was done.
Hear me, and consecrate my words for things;
Here in thy temple. Let him not go forth,
Unstamped with malediction. Let my curse
Be on him like a seal. Let it be in
His flesh like to a shaft shot from thy bow,
Apollo, and be mortal, as was that
Which slew the Python. Is he not a snake,
Who stung and slew his brother?

Porreo.
Sire and King,
Withdraw these obtestations from the ear
Of him who rules this shrine. A father's curse
Is more than I can bear.

King.
What punishment,
That man can bear, befits the fratricide?
Stay with thy mother, if she can endure
The company of such a wretch as thou.
Myself will forth, and, like Marcella, seek
My slaughtered son upon the battle-field,
For whom I would have died. Thee contemplate
I will not—cannot—living. But like him
To look on thee a corse were happiness.

[Exit.
Porreo.
I have no refuge but in thee, my mother.

Videna.
None, O my son!

Porreo.
Thy son?

Videna.
Yes—still, my son;
Albeit thy father cursed thee.

Porreo.
Thou wilt curse
Me not?

Videna.
No—for I waste not words.

Porreo.
Strange—brief—
And icy is thy speech.

Videna.
Wouldst have me praise,
(Because I will not blame,) in flowery phrase,
The deed which has deprived me of a son,
Whom once I loved as well as thee? And sure,
That love for thee was strong, which such a deed
Has not extinguished. From yon altar now
Thou mayst divorce thy hands. Come in with me
To yonder chamber, our sometime retreat,
While civil war was raging, to the which
Thou thus hast put an end. There will we talk,
In private, of this solemn business.

Porreo.
I thank thee, mother;—and 'twill stead me well—
For I am over-weary.

Videna.
Canst thou sleep?

Porreo.
What meanest thou?

Videna.
Nothing.

Porreo.
'Twas my phantasy
That made the tone thou spakest in startle me.
Truly, events like these will try us sore,
Howe'er we brave them out, and make us live
Even in the unconscious hairs that point our flesh.
I am grown sensitive; and, but that nature
Has been o'ertasked, should fear to slumber more.

Videna.
In—in— (aside)
Thy brother sleeps—why shouldst not thou?

[Exeunt.