The argument of the Tragedie.
AT a banquet made by Vther Pendragon for the solemnising of his conquest against the Saxons, he fell inamoured with Igerna wife to Gorlois Duke of Cornwell. Who perceiuing the Kings passion, departed with his wife and prepared warres at Cornwell, where also in a strong holde beyond him hee placed her Then the King [...] an a [...]mye to suppresse him, but waxing impatient of his desire to Igerna, transformed himselfe by Merlin his cunning, into the likenesse of Gorlois, And after his acceptance with Igerna he returned to his siedge, where he slew Gorlois. Igerna was deliuered of Arthur and Anne twins of the same birth. Vther Pendragon 15. yeres after pursuing the Saxons was by them poysoned. Arthur delighted in his sister Anne, who made him father of Mordred. Seuenteene yeres after Lucius Tiberius of Rome demanded a tribute due by the conquest of Caesar. Arthur gathered the powers of 13. Kinges besides his owne, and leauing his Queene Gueneuora in the tuition of Mordred, to whome likewise he committed the kingdome in his absence, arriued at Fraunce, where after 9. yeares warres, he sent the slaine bodie of Tiberius vnto Rome for the tribute. During this absence Mordred grew ambicious, for th'effecting whereof he made loue to Gueneuora, who gaue [...]are vnto him. Then by th'assistance of G [...]lla a Brittish Lord hee vsurped, and for mainteinance entertayned with large promises, the Sa [...]ons, Irish, Pictes, & N [...]rmands. Gueneuora hearing that Arthur was alreadie embarked for returne, through dispaire purposing diuersly, sometimes to kill her husband, sometimes to kill her selfe, at last resolued to enter into religion. Arthur at his landing was resisted on the stronds of Douer, where he put Mordred to flight. The last fielde was fought at Cornwell, where after the death of one hundred and tweentie thousand sauing on either side 20, Mordred receiued his death, and Arthur his deadly wound.
¶ The Argument and manner of the first dumbe shewe.
SOunding the musicke, there rose three furies from vnder the stage apparelled accordingly with snakes and flames about their blacke haires and garments. The first with a Snake in the right hande and a cup of wine with a Snake a [...]hwart the cup in the left hand. The second with a firebrand in the right hand [...], and a Cupid in the left: The thirde with a whippe in the right hande and a Paegasus in the left. VVhiles they went masking aboue the stage, there came from another place three Nu [...] which walked by them selues. Then after a full sight giuen to the beholders, they all parted, the furie [...] to Mordreds house, the Nuns to the Clois [...]er. By the first furie with the Snake and Cup was signified the Banquet of Vther Pendragon, and afterward his death which insued by poysoned cup. The second furie with her firebrande & Cupid represented Vthers vnlawfull [...]ea [...]e and lo [...] conceyued at the banquet, which ne [...]er ceased in his posteritie. By the third with her whip and Paegasus was prefigured the crueltie and [...] which thenc [...] insued and continued to th'effecting of this tragidie. By the Nuns was [...] the remorse and d [...]spaire of Gueneuora, that wanting other hope tooke a Nunrie for [...] refuge. After their departure, the fowre which represented the Chor [...] [...] plaeces.
The argument of the first Act.
1 IN the first scene the spirit of Gorlois Duke of Cornwell, the man first & most wronged in this historie being dispoild both of Wife, Dukedome and life craueth reuenge for these iniuries, denouncing the whole misfortune insuing.
2 In the second scene▪ Gueneuora hearing that Arthur was on Seas returning, desperately manaceth his death, from which intent she is disswaded by Fronia, a Lady of her Court & priuie to her secretes.
3 In the third scene Gueneuora perplexedly mindeth her owne death, whence being diswaded by her sister she resolueth to enter into Religion.
4 In the fourth scene Mordred goeth about to perswade Gueneuora to persist in her loue, but misseth thereof: And then is exhorted by Conan (a noble mā of Brytain) to reconcile himselfe to his Father at his comming, but refuseth so to doe and resolueth to keepe him from landing by battaile.
The names of the speakers.
- Gorlois Duke of Cornwalls ghost.
- Gueneuora the Queene.
- Fronia a Lady of her trayne.
- Angharad sister to the Queéne.
- Mordred the Usurper.
- Conan a faithfull counseller.
- Nuntius of Arthurs landing.
- The Heralt from Arthur.
- Gawin King of Albanie.
- Gilla: a Brytishe Earle.
- Gillamor King of Ireland.
- Cheldrich Duke of Saxonie.
- The Lorde of the Pictes.
- Arthur King of great Brytain.
- Cador Duke of Cornwall.
- Hoel King of little Brittaine.
- The Heralt from Mordred.
- Aschillus King of Denmarke.
- The King of Norwaye.
- A number of Souldiers.
- Nuntius of the last battell.
- Gildas a noble man of Brytain.
- CHORVS.
THE FIRST ACT and first scene.
Gorlois.
GORL.
SInce thus through channells blacke of Limbo lake,
And deépe infernall floude of Stygian poole,
The gastly Caron's boate transported backe
Thy ghost, from Pluto's pittes and glowming shades,
To former light once lost by Destnies doome:
Where proude Pendragon broylde with shamefull lust,
Dispoylde theé erst of wife, of lande, and life:
Nowe (Gorlois) worke thy wish, cast here thy gaule,
Glutte on reuenge: thy wrath abhorrs delayes.
What though (besides Pendragons poysoned end)
The vile reproch he wrought thee by thy phere,
Through deépe increase of crymes alike is plagude?
And that the shame thou suffredst for his lusts,
Reboundeth backe, and stifeleth in his stocke?
Yet is not mischiefe's measure all fulfilde,
Nor wreake sufficient wrought: Thy murthered corse
And Dukedome reft, for heauier vengeance cries.
Come therefore bloomes of setled mischiefes roote,
Come ech thing else, what furie can inuent,
Wreake all at once, infect the ayre with plagues,
Till badd to worse, till worse to worst be turnde.
Let mischiefes know no meane, nor plagues an end.
Let th'ofsprings sinne exceéde the former stocke:
Let none haue time to hate his former fault,
But still with fresh supplie let punisht cryme
Increase, till tyme it make a complet sinne.
Goe to: some fact, which no age shall allowe,
Nor yet conceale: some fact must neédes be darde,
That for thy horror great and outrage fell
Thereof, may well beseeme Pendragons broode.
And first, whiles Arthurs nauies homewards flott
Triumphantly bedeckt with Romaine spoyles:
Let Guenouer expresse what franticke moodes
Distract a wife, when wronging wedlockes rights,
Both fonde and fell, she loues and loathes at once.
Let deépe dispaire pursue, till loathing life
Her hatefull heade in cowle and cloister lurke.
Let traiterous Mordred keépe his sire from shoare.
Let Bryttaine rest a pray for forreine powers
Let sworde and fire still fedde with mutuall strife
Tourne all the Kings to ghoastes, let ciuill warres
And discorde swell till all the realme be torne.
Euen in that soyle whereof my selfe was Duke,
Where first my spowse Igerna brake her vowe,
Where this vngracious ofspring was
In Cornwell, there, let Mordreds
[Page 4]Let Arthurs fatall wounde bewray the wrong,
The murther vile, the rape of wife and weale,
Wherewith their sire incenst both Gods and man:
Thus, thus Pendragons seede so sowne and reapte,
Thus cursed imps, ill borne, and worse consum'd,
Shall render iust reuenge for parents crimes,
And penance due t'asswadge my swelling w [...]ath.
The whiles O Cassiopaea gempright signe,
Most sacred sight, and sweéte Coelestiall starre,
This Clymat's ioy, plac'd in imperiall throne
With fragrant Oliue branche portending peace:
And whosoe'r besides ye heauenly pow'rs
(Her stately trayne with influence diuine,
And milde aspect all prone to Bryttaine [...] good)
Foreseé what present plagues doe threate this Isle:
Preuent not this my w [...]eake. For you their rest's
A happier age a thousand yeares to come:
An age for peace, religion, wealth, and [...]ase,
When all the world shall wonder at your blisse:
That, that is yours. Leaue this to Gorlois ghoast.
And seé where com's one engine of my hate.
With moods and manners fit for my reuenge.
Exit.
The second scene.
Gneneuora. Fronia.
GVEN.
AND dares he after nine yeares space returne,
And seé her face, whom he so long disdain'de?
Was I then chose and wedded for his stale,
To looke and ga [...]e for his retirelesse sayles,
Puft backe, and flittering spread to euery winde?
O wrong content with no reuenge: seeke out
Undared plagues, teach Mordred how to rage.
Attempt some bloodie dreadfull, irkesome fact,
And such as Mordred would were rather his.
Why stayest? it must be done: let bridle goe,
Frame out some trap beyonde all vulgar guile,
Beyonde Medea's wiles: attempt some fact,
That any wight vnwildie of her selfe,
That any spowse vnfaithfull to her phere,
Durst euer attempt in most dispaire of weale.
Spare no reuenge, b'it poyson, knyfe, or fire.
FRON.
Good Madame, temper these outragious moodes,
And let not will vsurpe, where wit should rule.
GVEN.
The wrath, that breatheth bloode, doth loath to lurke.
What reason most with holdes, rage wringes perforce.
I am disdainde: so will I not be long:
[...], that he shall first arriue,
[...] shall aforde him life.
[...] lands, nor warres abrode
[Page 5]Sufficed for thy foyle: yet shalt thou finde
Farre woorse at home: Thy deépe displeased spowse.
What e'r thou hast [...]ubdude in all thy stay,
This hand shall nowe subdue: then stay thy fill.
What's this? my mind recoyls, and yrkes these threats:
Anger delayes, my griefe gynnes to asswage,
My furie faintes, and sacred wedlockes faith
Presents it selfe. Why shunst thou fearefull wrath?
Add coales a freshe, preserue me to this venge.
At lest exyle thy selfe to realmes vnknowen,
And steale his wealth to helpe thy banisht state,
For flight is best. O base and hartlesse feare.
Theft? exyle? flight? all these may Fortune sende
Unsought: but thee beséemes more high reuenge.
Come spitefull fiends, come heapes of furies fell,
Not one, by one, but all at once: my breast
Raues not inough: it likes me to be filde
With greater monsters yet. My hart doth throbbe:
My liuer boyles: some what my minde portendes,
Uncertayne what: but whatsoeuer, it's huge.
So it excéede, be what it will: it's well.
Omit no plague, and none will be inough.
Wrong cannot be reueng'd, but by excesse.
FRON.
O spare this heate: you yeélde too much to rage,
Y'are too vniust: is there no meane in wrong?
GVEN.
Wrong claymes a meane, when first you offer wronge.
The meane is vaine, when wrong is in reuenge.
Great harmes cannot be hidde, the griefe is small,
That can re [...]eaue aduise, or rule it selfe.
FRON.
Hatred concealde doth often happe to hurte,
But once profest, it oftner failes reuenge.
How better tho, wert to represse your yre?
A Ladies best reuenge is to forgiue.
What meane is in your hate? how much soe'r
You can inuent, or dare: so much you hate.
GVEN.
And would you knowe what meane there is in hate?
Call loue to minde, and seé what meane is there.
My loue, redoubled loue, and constant faith
Engaged vnto Mordred workes so deépe:
That both my hart and marrow quite be burnt,
And synewes dried with force of woontlesse flames,
Desire to ioy him still, torments my mynde:
Feare of his want doth and a double griefe.
Loe here the loue, that stirres this meanelesse hate.
FRON.
Eschew it farre: such loue impugnes the lawes▪
GVEN.
Unlawfull loue doth like, when lawfull lothes.
FRON.
And is your loue of husbande quite extinct?
GVEN.
The greater flame must neédes delay the lesse.
Besides, his sore reuenge I greatly feare.
FRON.
How can you then attempt a fresh offence?
GVEN.
Who can appoint a stint to her offence?
FRON.
[Page 6]But here the greatnesse of the fact should moue.
GVEN.
The greater it, the fitter for my griefe:
FRON.
To kill your spowse?
GVEN.
A stranger, and a foe.
FRON.
Your liedge and king?
GVEN.
He wants both Realme and Crowne.
FRON.
Nature affordes not to your sexe such strength.
GVEN.
Loue, anguish, wrath, will soone afforde inough.
FRON.
What rage is this?
GVEN.
Such as himselfe shall rue.
FRON.
Whom Gods doe presse inough, will you annoy?
GVEN.
Whom Gods doe presse, they bende: whom man annoyes,
He breakes.
FRON.
Your griefe is more then his desertes:
Ech fault requires an equall hate: be not seuere,
Where crimes be light: as you haue felt, so greéue.
GVEN.
And seémes it light to want him nine yeare space?
Then to be spoild of one I hold more deare?
Thinke all to much, b'it ne'r so iust, that feédes
Continuall griefe: the lasting woe is worst.
FRON.
Yet let your highnesse shun these desperate moodes,
Cast of this rage, and fell disposed minde.
Put not shame quite to flight, haue some regard
Both of your sex, and future fame of life.
Use no such cruell thoughts, as farre exceéde
A manly minde, much more a womans hart.
GVEN.
Well: shame is not so quite exilde, but that
I can, and will respect your sage aduise.
Your Counsell I accept, giue leaue a while,
Till fiery wrath may s [...]ake, and rage relent.
Exit FRON.
The third scene.
Gueneuora. Angharat.
GVEN.
THE loue, that for his rage will not be rulde,
Must be restrainde: fame shall receiue no foile.
Let Arthur liue, whereof to make him sure,
My selfe will dye, and so preuent his harmes.
Why stayest thou thus amazde O slouthfull wrath?
Mischiefe is meant, dispatch it on thy selfe.
ANGH.
Her breast not yet appeasde from former rage
Hath chaungde her wrath, which wanting meanes to worke
An others woe, (for such is furies woont,)
Seékes out his owne, and raues vpon it selfe.
Asswage (alas) that ouer feruent ire,
Through to much anger, you offend too much:
Thereby the rather you deserue to liue,
For seéming worthy in your selfe to dye.
GVEN.
Death is decreéd: what kinde of death, I doubt:
Whether to dround, or stifill vp his breath.
On forcing bloud, to dye with dint of knife.
All hope of prosperous hap is gone, my fame,
My faith, my spouse: no good is left vnlost:
My selfe am left, ther's left both seas and lands,
[Page 7]And sword, and fire, and chaines, and choice of harmes.
O gnawing easelesse griefe. Who now can heale
My maymed minde? it must be healde by death.
ANGH.
No mischiefe must be done, whiles I be by,
Or if there must, there must be more then one.
If death it be you seeke, I seéke, it too:
Alone you may not die, with me you may.
GVEN.
They, that will driue th'unwilling to their death,
Or frustrate death in those, that faine would die,
Offend alike. They spoile, that b [...]otelesse spare.
ANGH.
But will my teares and mournings moue you nought?
GVEN.
Then is it best to die, when friends doe mourne.
ANGH.
Ech where is death: that, fates haue well ordainde,
That ech man may bereaue himselfe of life,
But none of death: death is so sure a doome:
A thousand wayes doe guide vs to our graues.
Who then can euer come too late to that,
Whence, when h'is come, he neuer can returne?
Or what auailes to hasten on our ends,
And long for that, which destenies haue sworne?
Looke backe in time, to late is to repent,
When furious rage hath once cut of the choice.
GVEN.
Death is an end of paine▪ no paine it selfe.
Is't meéte a plague, for such excessiue wrong,
Should be so short? Soould one stroke answere all?
And wouldst thou dye? Well: that contents the lawes,
What then for Arthurs ire? What for thy fame,
Which thou hast stainde? What for thy stocke thou shamst?
Not death, nor life alone can giue a full
Reuenge: ioyne both in one. Die: and yet liue▪
Where paine may not be oft, let it be long.
Seéke out some lingring death, whereby, thy corse
May neither touch the dead, nor ioy the quicke.
Dye: but no common death: passe Natures boundes.
ANGH.
Set plaintes aside, despaire yeélds no reliefe.
The more you search a wounde, the more it stings.
GVEN.
When guiltie mindes torment them selues, they heale:
Whiles woundes be cur'd, griefe is a salue for griefe.
ANGH.
Griefe is no iust esteémer of our deédes:
What so hath yet beéne done, proceédes from chaunce.
GVEN.
The minde, and not the chaunce, doth make th'unchast,
ANGH.
Then is your fault from Fate, you rest excusde:
None can be deémed faultie for her Fate.
GVEN.
No Fate, but manners fayle, when we offende.
Impute mishaps to Fates, to manners faultes.
ANGH.
Loue is an error, that may blinde the best.
GVEN.
A mightie error oft hath seémde a sinne.
My death is vowed, and death must neédes take place.
But such a death, as standes with iust remorse:
Death, to the worlde, and to her slipperie ioyes:
A full deuorce from all this Courtly pompe.
[Page 8]Where dayly pennance done for each offence,
May render due reuenge for euery wrong.
Which to accomplish: pray my deérest friends,
That they forthwith attyrde in saddest guise,
Conduct me to the Cloister next hereby,
There to professe, and to renounce the world.
ANGH.
Alas▪ What chaunge were that, from Kingly rooffes
To Cloistered celles? To liue, and die at once?
To want your stately troupes, your friends and kinne?
To shun the shewes and sights of stately Court.
To seé in sort aliue, your Countries death?
Yea, what so'er euen Death it selfe withdrawes
From any els, that life with drawes from you.
Yet since your highnes is so fully bent,
I will obay, the whiles asswage your griefe
Exit.
The fourth scene.
Mordred. Gueneuora. Conan.
MORD.
THE houre which earst I alwaies feared most,
The certaine ruine of [...]ny desperate state,
Is happened now: why turnst thou (minde) thy back?
Why at the first assault doest thou recoile?
Trust to't: the angry Heauens contriue some spight,
And dreadfull doome, t'augment thy cursed hap.
Oppose to ech reuenge thy guiltie heade,
And shun no paine nor plague fit for thy fact.
What shouldst thou feare, that seést not what to hope?
No danger's left before, all's at thy backe.
He safely stands, that stands beyond his harmes.
Thine (death) is all, that East, or West can seé,
For theé we liue, our comming is not long,
Spare vs, but whiles we may prepare our graues,
Though thou wert s [...]owe, we hasten of our selues.
The houre that gaue, did also take our liues:
No sooner men, then mortall were we borne.
I seé mine end drawes on, I feéle my plagues.
GVEN.
No plague for one ill borne, to dye as ill.
MORD.
O Queéne! my sweéte associate in this plunge,
And desperate plight, beholde, the time is come,
That either iustifies our former faults,
Or shortly sets vs freé from euery feare.
GVEN.
My feare is past, and wedlock loue hath woonne.
Retire we thither yet, whence first we ought
Not to haue stird. Call backe chast faith againe.
The way, that leads to good, is ne'r to late:
Who so repents, is guiltlesse of his crimes.
MORD.
What meanes this course? Is Arthurs wedlocke safe?
Or can he loue, that hath iust cause to hate?
That nothing else were to be feard:
[Page 9]Is most apparant, that he hates at home,
What e'r he be, whose fansie strayes abroad?
Thinke then, our loue is not vnknowen to him:
Whereof what patience can be safely hopte?
Nor loue, nor soueraignetie can beare a peére.
GVEN.
Why dost thou still stirre vp my flames delayde?
His strayes and errors must not moue my minde.
A law for priuate men bindes not the King.
What, that I ought not to condemne my liedge,
Nor can, thus guiltie to myne owne offence?
Where both haue done amisse, both will relent.
He will forgiue, that neédes must be forgiuen.
MORD.
A likely thing▪ your faults must make you friends:
What sets you both at odds, must ioine you both:
Thinke well he casts already for reuenge,
And how to plague vs both. I know his law,
A Iudge seuere to vs, milde to himselfe.
What then auailes you to returne to late,
When you haue past to farre? You feéde vaine hopes.
GVEN.
The further past, the more this fault is yours:
It seru'd your turne, t'usurpe your fathers Crowne.
His is the crime, whom crime stands most in steéde.
MORD.
They, that conspire in faults offend a like:
Crime makes them equall, whom it iointly staines.
If for my sake you then pertooke my guilt,
You cannot guiltlesse seéme, the crime was ioint.
GVEN.
Well should should she seéme most guiltlesse vnto theé,
Whate'r she be, that's guiltie for thy sake.
The remnant of that sober minde, which thou
Hadst heretofore nere vanquisht, yet resists.
Suppresse for shame that impious mouth so taught,
And to much skild t'abuse the wedded bed.
Looke backe to former Fates: Troy still had stoode,
Had not her Prince made light of wedlocks lore.
The vice, that threw downe Troy, doth threat thy Throne:
Take heéde: there Mordred stands, whence Paris fell.
Exit.
CONA.
Since that your highnes knowes for certaine truth
What power your sire prepares to claime his right:
It neérely now concernes you to resolue
In humbliest sort to reconcile your selfe.
Gainst his returne:
MORD.
will warre.
CONA.
that lies in chaun [...]
MORD.
I haue as great a share in chaunce, as he.
CONA.
His waies be blinde, that maketh chaunce his guide.
MORD
Whose refuge lies in chaunce, what dares he not?
CONA.
Warres were a crime farre worse then all the rest.
MORD.
The safest passage is from bad to worse.
CONA.
That were to passe too farre, and put no meane.
MORD.
He is a foole, that puts a meane in crimes.
CONA.
But sword and fire would cause a common wound.
MORD.
So sword and fire will often seare the soare.
CONA.
[Page 10]Extremest cures must not be vsed first.
MORD.
In desperate times, the headlong way is best.
CONA.
Y'haue many foes.
MORD.
No more then faythfull friends.
CONA.
Trust to't, their faith will faint, where Fortune failes.
Where many men pretend a loue to one,
Whose power may doe what good, and harme he will:
T'is hard to say, which be his faithfull friends.
Dame Flatterie flitteth oft: she loues and hates
With time, a present friend an absent foe.
But yet y'll hope the best: Euen then you feare
The worst▪ Feares follow hopes, as fumes doe flames.
Mischiefe is sometimes safe: but ne'r secure:
The wrongfull Scepter's held with trembling hand.
MORD.
Whose rule wants right, his safety's in his Sword.
For Sword and Scepter comes to Kings at once.
CONA.
The Kingliest point is to affect but right,
MORD.
Weake is the Scepters hold, that seékes but right,
The ca [...]e whereof hath danger'd many Crownes.
As much as water differeth from the fire,
So much man's profit iarres from what is iust.
A freé recourse to wrong doth oft secure
The doubtfull seate, and plucks downe many a foe.
The Sword must seldome cease: a Soueraignes hand
Is scantly safe, but whiles it smites. Let him
Usurpe no Crowne, that likes a guiltles life:
Aspiring power and Iustice [...]ield agreé.
He alwaies feares, that shames to offer wrong.
CONA.
What sonne would vse such wrong against his sire?
MORD.
Come sonne, come sire, I first preferre my selfe.
And since a wrong must be, then it excels,
When t'is to gaine a Crowne. I hate a peére,
I loath, I yrke, I doe detest a head.
B'it Nature, be it Reason, be it Pride,
I loue to rule: my minde nor with, nor by,
Nor after any claimes, but chiefe and first.
CONA.
Yet thinke what fame and grieuous bruits would runne
Of such disloyall and vniust attempts.
MORD.
Fame goe's not with our Ghosts, the senselesse soule
Once gone, neglects what vulgar bruite reports.
She is both light and vaine.
CONAN.
She noteth though.
She feareth States.
CONAN.
She carpeth ne'r the lesse.
MORD.
She's soone supprest.
CONAN.
As soone she springs againe,
MORD.
Toungs are vntamde: and Fame is Enuies Dogge,
That absent barckes, and present fawnes as fast.
It fearing dares, and yet hath neuer done,
But dures: though Death redeéme vs from all foes
Besides, yet Death redeémes vs not from Toungs.
E'r Arthur land, the Sea shall blush with blood.
And all the Stronds with smoaking slaughters reéke.
Now (Mars) protect me in my first attempt.
If Mordred scape, this Realme shall want no warres.
Exeunt. CHORVS.
[Page 11] CHORVS.
1
Se [...] here the drifts of Gorlois Cornish Duke,
And deepe desire to shake his Soueraignes Throne:
How foule his fall, how bitter his rebuke,
Whiles wife, and weale, and life, and all be gone?
He now in Hell tormented wants that good▪
Lo, lo the end of trayterous bones and blood.
2
Pendragon broylde with flames of filthy fires,
By Merlins mists inioyde Igerna's bed,
Next spoiled Gorlois doubting his desires,
Then was himselfe through force of poyson sped.
Who sowes in sinne, in sinne shall reape his paine:
The Doome is sworne: Death guerdon's death againe.
3
Whiles Arthur warres abroade and reapes renowne,
Gueneuora preferres his sonnes desire.
And trayterous Mordred still vsurpes the Crowne,
Affording fuell to her quenchlesse fire.
But Death's too good, and life too sweéte for thease,
That wanting both, should tast of neithers ease.
4
In Rome the gaping gulfe would not decrease,
Till Curtius corse had closde her yawning [...]awes▪
In Th [...]b's the Rotte and Murreine would not cease,
Till Laius broode had paide for breach of lawes:
In Brytain warres and discord will not stent:
Till Vther's line and offspring quite be spent.
The Argument of the second Act.
1 IN the first Scene a Nuntio declareth the successe of Arth [...] warres in France, and Mordred's foile that resisted his [...].
2 In the second Scene Mordred enraged at the ouerthrow, v [...]eth a second battaile, notwithstanding Conan's disswasio [...] the contrarie.
3 In the third Scene Gawin (brother to Mordred by [...]) with an Heralt from Arthur to imparle of peace, but [...] some debate thereof peace is reiected.
4 In the fourth Scene the King of Ireland & other forrein [...] assure Mordred of their assistane against Arthur.
¶ The Argument and manner of the second dumbe shewe.
WHILES the Musicke sounded there came out of Mordred's [...] man stately attyred representing a King, who walking once [...] Stage. Then out of the house appointed for Arthur, there came [...] Nymphes apparailed accordingly, the first holding a Cornucopia in her han [...] second a golden braunch of Oliue, the third a sheaffe of Corne. These [...] one after another offered these presents to the King who seemefully refu [...] [Page 12] After the which there came a man bareheaded, with blacke long shagged haire downe to his shoulders, apparailed with an Irish Iacket and shirt, hauing an Irish dagger by his side and a dart in his hand. Who first with a threatning countenance looking about, and then spying the King, did furiously chase and driue him into Mordreds house. The King represented Mordred. The three Nymphes with their proffers the treatice of peace, for the which Arthur sent Gawin with an Herault vnto Mordred who reiected it: The Irish man signified Reuenge and Furie which Mordred conceiued after his foile on the Shoares, whereunto Mordred headlong yeeldeth himselfe.
THE SECOND act and first Scene.
Nuntius.
VNT.
LO here at length the stately type of Troy,
And Brytain land the promist seate of Brute.
Deckt with so many spoyles of conquered Kings.
Haile natiue soyle, these nine yeares space vnseéne:
To theé hath long renowmed Rome at last
Held vp her hands, bereaft of former pompe.
But first inflamde with woonted valures heate,
Amidst our sorest s [...]edge and thickest broyles,
She stoutly fought, and fiercely waged warres.
Tiberius courage gaue, vpbraiding oft
The Romane force, their woonted lucke, and long
Retained rule, by warres throughout the world.
What shame it were, since such atchiued spoiles,
And conquests gaind both farre and wide, to want
Of courage then, when most it should be mou'd.
How Brytaines erst paide tribute for their peace,
But now rebell, and dare them at their doores:
For what was Fraunce but theirs? Herewith incenst
They fiercely rau'd, and bent their force a fresh.
Which Arthur spying, cryed with thundring voyce,
Fye, (Brytaines) fye: what hath bewitcht you thus?
So many Nations foilde, must Romans foile?
What slouth is this? Haue you forgot to warre,
Which ne'r knew houre of peace? Turne to your foes,
Where you may bath in blood, and fight your fill.
Let courage worke: what can he not that dares?
Thus he puissant guide in doubtfull warres,
A shamde to shun his foes, inflamde his friends.
Then yeélding to his stately Stead the raignes,
He furious driues the Romaine troupes about:
He plies each place, least Fates mought alter ought,
Pursuing hap, and vrging each successe.
He yeélds in nought, but instantly persists
In all attempts, wherein what so withstands
[Page 13]His wish, he ioyes to worke a way by wracke.
And matching death to death, no passage seekes,
But what destruction works, with blade or blood.
He scornes the yeelded way, he fiercely raues
To breake and bruse the rancks in thickest throngs,
All headlong bent, and prone to present spoile.
The foes inforc't withstand: but much dismaide
They senselesse fight, whiles millions lose their liues.
At length Tiberius, pierst with point of speare,
Doth bleéding fall, engoard with deadly wound.
Hereat the rest recoile, and headlong flie,
Each man to saue himselfe. The battaile quailes
And Brytaines winne vnto their most renowne.
Then Arthur tooke Tiberius breathlesse Corse,
And sent it to the Senators at Rome,
With charge to say: This is the tribute due
Which Arthur ought, as time hereafter serues,
He'll pay the like againe: the whiles he rests
Your debtor thus. But O! this this sweéte successe
Pursu'd with greater harmes, turn'd soone to sowre.
For lo: when forreine soiles and seas were past
With safe returne, and that the King should land:
Who, but his onely sonne (O outrage rare)
With hugie hoast withstoode him at the shoare?
There were preparde the forreine aides from farre,
There were the borowed powers of diuers Kings,
There were our parents, brethren, sonnes and kinne,
Their wrath, their ire, there Mordred was thy rage.
Where erst we sought abroade for foes to foile,
Beholde, our Fates had sent vs foes vnsought.
When forreine Realmes supplanted want supplie:
O blessed Home, that hath such boonne in store.
But let this part of Arthurs prowesse lurke,
Nor let it e'r appeare by my report,
What monstrous mischiefes raue in ciuill warres.
O rather let due teares, and waylings want:
Let all in silence sinke, what hence insu'd.
What best deserueth mention here, is this:
That Mordred vanquisht trusted to his flight,
That Arthur ech where victor is returnd.
And lo: where Mordred comes with heauy head,
He wields no slender waight that wields a Crowne.
Exit.
The second scene.
Mordred. Conan.
MORD.
ANd hath he wonne? Be Stronds & shoares possest?
Is Mordred foilde? the realme is yet vnwonne:
And Mordred liues reseru'd for Arthurs death:
[Page 14]Well: t'was my first conflict: I knew not yet
What warres requir'd: but now my sworde is flesht,
And taught to goare and bath in hoatest bloode.
Then thinke not Arthur that the Crowne is wonne:
Thy first successe may rue our next assault.
Euen at our next incounter (hap when 'twill)
I vowe by Heauen, by Earth, by Hell, by all,
That either thou, or I, or both shall [...].
CONA.
Nought shoulde be rashly vowde against your sire.
MORD.
Whose breast is freé from rage may soone b'aduisde.
CONA.
The best redresse for rage is to relent.
MORD.
Tis better for a King to kill his foes.
CONA.
So that the Subiects also iudge them foes.
MORD.
The Subiects must not iudge their Kings decrees.
CONA.
The Subiects force is great.
ARTH.
Greater the Kings.
CONA.
The more you may, the more you ought to feare.
MORD.
He is a foole, that feareth what he may.
CONA.
Not what you may, but what you ought is iust,
MORD.
He that amongst so many, so vniust,
Seekes to be iust, seekes perill to him selfe.
CONA.
A greater perill comes by breach of lawes.
MORD.
The Lawes doe licence as the Soueraigne lists.
CONA.
Lest ought he list, whom lawes doe licence most.
MORD.
Imperiall power abhorres to be restrainde.
CONA.
As much doe meaner roomes to be compeld.
MORD.
The Fates haue heau'de and raisde my force on high.
CONA.
The gentler shoulde you presse those, that are low.
MORD.
I would be feard:
CONA.
The cause why Subiects hate.
MORD.
A Kingdom's kept by feare.
CONA.
And lost by hate.
He feares as man himselfe, whom many feare.
MORD.
The timerous Subiect dares attempt no chaundge.
CONA.
What dares not desperate dread?
CONA.
What torture threats.
CONA.
O spare, tweare saffer to be lou'de.
MORD.
As safe
To be obaide.
CONA.
Whiles you command but well.
MORD.
Where Rulers dare commaund but what is well:
Powre is but prayer, commaundment but request.
CONA.
If powre be ioynde with right, men must obay.
MORD.
My will must goe for right.
CONA.
If they assent.
MORD.
My sword shall force assent:
CONA.
No Gods forbid.
MORD.
What? shall I stande whiles Arthur sheads my bloode?
And must I yeelde my necke vnto the Axe?
Whom Fates constrayne, let him forgoe his blisse:
But he that neédlesse yeldes vnto his bane,
When he may shunne, doth well deserue to loose
The good he cannot vse: who woulde sustaine
A baser life, that may maintaine the best?
We cannot part the Crowne: A regall Throne
Is not for two: The Scepter fittes but one.
But whether is the fitter of vs two,
That must our swordes decerne: and shortly shall.
CONA.
How much were you to be renowmed more,
[Page 15]If casting off these ruinous attempts,
You woulde take care howe to supplie the losse,
Which former warres, and forraine broyles haue wrought.
Howe to deserue the peoples heartes with peace,
With quiet rest, and deépe desired ease.
Not to increase the rage that long hath raignde,
Nor to destroy the realme, you seeke to rule.
Your Father rearde it vp, you plucke it downe.
You loose your Countrey whiles you winne it thus:
To make it yours, you striue to make it none.
Where Kings impose too much, the commons grudge:
Goodwill withdrawes, assent becomes but slowe.
MORD.
Must I to gaine renowne, incurre my plague,
Or hoping prayse sustaine an exiles life?
Must I for Countries ease disease my selfe,
Or for their loue dispise my owne estate?
No. Tis my happe that Brytain serues my tourne,
That feare of me doth make the Subiects crouch,
That what they grudge, they do constrayned yeeld.
If their assents be slowe, my wrath is swift,
Whom fauour failes to bende, let furie breake.
If they be yet to learne, let terrour teach,
What Kings may doe, what Subiects ought to beare.
Then is a Kingdome at a wished staye,
When whatsoeuer the Souereigne wills, or nilles,
Men be compelde as well to praise, as beare,
And Subiects willes inforc'd against their willes.
CONA.
But who so seekes true praise, and iust renowme,
Would rather seeke their praysing heartes, then tongues.
MORD.
True praise may happen to the basest groome,
A forced prayse to none, but to a Prince.
I wish that most, that Subiects most repine.
CONA.
But yet where warres doe threaten your estate,
There needeth friendes to fortifie your Crowne.
MORD.
Ech Crowne is made of that attractiue moulde,
That of it selfe it drawes a full defence.
CONA.
That is a iust, and no vsupred Crowne.
And better were an exiles life, then thus
Disloyally to wronge youe Sire and Liedge.
Thinke not that impious crimes can prosper long,
A time they scape, in time they be repaide.
MORD.
The hugest crimes bring best successe to some.
CONA.
Those some be rare.
MORD.
Why may not I be rare?
CONA.
It was their hap.
MORD.
It is my hope.
CONA.
But hope
May misse, where hap doth hurle.
MORD.
So hap may hit,
Where hope doth aime.
CONAN.
But hap is last, and rules
The stearne.
MORD.
So hope is first, and hoists the saile.
CONA.
Yet feare: the first and last doe sielde agreé.
MORD.
Nay dare: the first and last haue many meanes.
But cease at length: your speach molests me much:
My minde is fixt. Giue Mordred leaue to doe.
[Page 16]What Conan neither can allow, nor like.
CONA.
But loe an Herault sent from Arthurs hoast:
Gods graunt his message may portend our good.
The third scene.
Herault. Gawin. Mordred.
HERA.
YOUR Sire (O Prince) considering what distresse,
The Realme sustaines by both your mutuall warres,
Hath sent your brother Gawin Albane King
To treate of truce, and to imparle of peace.
MORD·
Speake brother: what commaundment sends my Sire?
What message doe you bring? My life, or death?
GAWI.
A message farre vnmeéte, most neédefull tho.
The Sire commaunds not, where the Sonne rebels:
His loue descends too deépe to wish your death.
MORD.
And mine ascends to high to wish his life.
GAWI.
Yet thus he offreth: though your faults be great,
And most disloyall to his deépe abuse:
Yet yeélde your selfe: he'il be as prone to grace,
As you to ruth: An Uncle, Sire, and Liedge.
And fitter were your due submission done,
Then wrongfull warres to reaue his right and Realme.
MORD.
It is my fault, that he doth want his right:
It is his owne, to vexe the Realme with warres.
GAWI.
It is his right, that he attempts to seéke:
It is your wrong▪ that driueth him thereto.
MORD.
T'is his insatiate minde, that is not so content,
Which hath so many Kingdomes more besides.
GAWI.
The more you ought to tremble at his powre.
MORD.
The greater is my conquest, if I winne.
GAWI.
The more your foile, if you should hap to loose.
For Arthurs fame, and vallure's such, as you
Should rather imitate, or at the least
Enuie, if hope of better fansies failde.
For whereas Enuie raignes, though it repines,
Yet doth it feare a greater then it selfe.
MORD.
He that enuies the valure of his foe,
Detects a want of valure in himselfe.
He fondly fights, that fights with such a foe,
Where t'were a shame to loose, no praise to winne:
But with a famous foe, succeéde what will,
To winne is great renowne, to loose lesse foile.
His conquests, were they more, dismaie me not:
The oftner they haue beéne, the more they threat.
No danger can be thought both safe, and oft:
And who hath oftner waged warres then he?
Escapes secure him not: he owes the price:
Whom chaunce hath often mist, chaunce hits at length
[Page 17]Or, if that Chaunce haue furthered his successe,
So may she mine: for Chaunce hath made me king.
GAWI.
As Chaunce hath made you King, so Chaunce may change.
Prouide for peace: that's it the highest piers,
No state except, euen Conquerours ought to seéke.
Remember Arthurs strength, his conquestes late,
His fierie mynde, his high aspiring heart.
Marke then the oddes: he expert, you vntried:
He ripe, you greéne: yeelde you, whiles yet you may,
He will not yeelde: he winnes his peace with warres.
MODR.
If Chaunce may chaunge, his Chaunce was last to winne▪
The likelier now to loose: his hautie heart
And minde I know: I feéle mine owne no lesse.
As for his strength, and skill, I leaue to happe:
Where many meéte, it lies not all in one.
What though he vanquisht haue the Romaine troupes?
That bootes him not: him selfe is vanquisht here.
Then waigh your wordes againe: if Conquerours ought
To seéke for peace: The Conquered must perforce.
But he'ill not yeélde, he'il purchase peace with warres.
Well: yeelde that will: I neither will, nor can:
Come peace, come warres, chuse him: my danger's his,
His saffetie mine, our states doe stande alike.
If peace be good, as good for him, as me:
If warres be good, as good for me, as him.
GAWI.
What Cursed warres (alas) were those, wherein
Both sonne and sire shoulde so oppose themselues?
Him, whom you nowe vnhappie man pursue,
If you should winne, your selfe would first bewayle.
Giue him his Crowne, to keepe it perill breeds.
MORD.
The Crowne Ile keepe my selfe: insue what will:
Death must be once: how soone, I lest respect.
He best prouides that can beware in time,
Not why, nor when: but whence, and where he fals.
What foole, to liue a yeare or twaine in rest,
Woulde loose the state, and honour of a Crowne?
GAWI.
Consider then your Fathers griefe, and want:
Whom you bereaue of Kingdome, Realme, and Crowne.
MORD.
Trust me: a huge and mightie kingdome tis,
To beare the want of Kingdome, Realme, and Crowne.
GAWI.
A common want, which woorkes ech worldlings woe,
That many haue too much, but none inough.
It were his praise, could he be so content▪
Which makes you guiltie of the greater wrong.
Wherefore thinke on the doubtfull state of warres,
Where Mars hath sway, he keepes no certayne course.
Sometimes he lettes the weaker to preuaile,
Some times the stronger stoupes: hope, feare, and rage
With eylesse lott rules all, vncertayne good,
Most certaine harmes, be his assured happes.
No lucke can last, nowe here, now their it lights:
[Page 18]No state alike, Chaunce blindly snatcheth all,
And Fortune maketh guiltie whom she listes.
MORD.
Since therefore feare, and hope, and happe in warres
Be all obscure, till their successe be seene:
Your speach doth rather driue me on to trie,
And trust them all, mine onely refuge now.
GAWI.
And feare you not so strange and vncouth warres?
MORD.
No, were they warres that grew from out the ground.
GAWI.
Nor yet your sire so huge, your selfe so small?
MORD.
The smallest axe may fell the hugest oake.
GAWI.
Nor that in felling him, your selfe may fall?
MORD.
He falleth well, that falling fells his foe.
GAWI.
Nor common Chance whereto each man is thrall?
MORD.
Small manhood were to turne my backe to Chance,
GAWI.
Nor that, if Chance afflict, kings brooke it not?
MORD.
I beare no breast so vnpreparde for harmes.
Euen that I holde the kingliest point of all,
To brooke afflictions well: And by how much
The more his state and tottering Empire sagges,
To fixe so much the faster foote on ground.
No feare but doth foreiudge, and many fall
Into their Fate, whiles they doe feare their Fate.
Where courage quailes, the feare exceeds the harme,
Yea worse than warre it selfe, is feare of warre.
GAWI.
Warre seemeth sweete to such as haue not tried:
But wisedome wils we should forecast the worst.
The end allowes the act: that plot is wise,
That knowes his meanes, and least relies on Chance.
Eschue the course where errour lurkes, their growes
But griefe, where paine is spent, no hope to speed.
Striue not aboue your strength: for where your force
Is ouer matchte with your attempts, it faints,
And fruitlesse leaues, what bootlesse it began.
MORD.
All things are rulde in constant course: No Fate
But is foreset, The first daie leades the last.
No wisedome then: but difference in conceit,
Which workes in many men, as many mindes.
You loue the meane, and follow vertues race:
I like the top, and aime at greater blisse.
You rest content, my minde aspires to more:
In briefe, you feare, I hope: you doubt, I dare.
Since then the sagest counsailes are but strifes,
Where equall wits may wreast each side alike,
Let counsaile go: my purpose must proceede:
Each likes his course, mine owne doth like me best.
Wherefore e'r Arthur breath, or gather strength,
Assault we him: least he assault vs first.
He either must destroie, or be destroide.
The mischiefe's in the midst: catch he that can.
GAWI.
But will no reason rule that desperate minde?
MORD.
A f [...]kle minde that euerie reason rules.
[Page 19]I rest resolu'd: and to my Sire say thus:
If here he stay but three daies to an end,
And not forthwith discharge his band and hoast,
Tis Mordreds oath: assure himselfe to die.
But if he finde his courage so to serue,
As for to stand to his defence with force:
In Cornewalle if he dare, I'le trye it out.
GAWI.
O strange contempt: like as the craggy rocke,
Resists the streames, and flings the waltering waues
Aloofe, so he reiects and scornes my words.
Exit.
The fourth scene.
Gilla. Gillamor. Cheldrichus. Dux Pictorum. Conan.
MORD.
LO, where (as they decreéd) my faithfull friends
Haue kept their time, be all your powers repaird?
GILLA.
They be: and all with ardent mindes to Mars.
They cry for warres, and longing for th'allarme
Euen now they wish t'incounter with their foes.
MORD.
What could be wisht for more? Puissant King.
For your great helpe and valiant Irish force,
If I obtaine the conquest in these warres,
Whereas my father claimes a tribute due
Out of your Realme, I here renounce it quite.
And if assistance neéde in doubtfull times,
I will not faile to aide you with the like.
GYLL.
It doth suffice me to discharge my Realme,
Or at the least to wreke me on my foes.
I rather like to liue your friend and piere,
Then rest in Arthurs homage and disgrace.
MORD.
Right noble Duke, through whom the Saxons vowe
Their liues with mine, for my defence in warres:
If we preuaile and may subdue our foes:
I will in liew of your so high deserts,
Geue you and yours all Brytish lands that lie
Betweene the floud of Humber, and the Scottes.
Besides as much in Kent as Horsus and
Hengistus had, when Vortigern was King.
CHEL.
Your gracious proffers I accept with thankes,
Not for the gaine, but that the good desire
I haue henceforth to be your subiect here,
May thereby take effect: which I esteeme
More then the rule I beare in Saxon soile.
MORD.
(Renowmed Lord) for your right hardy Picts,
And chosen warriers to maintaine my cause,
If our attempts receiue a good successe,
The Albane Crowne I giue to you and yours.
PICT.
[Page 20]Your highnes bountie in so high degreé,
Were cause inough to moue me to my best.
But sure your selfe, without regard of meéde,
Should finde both me and mine at your commaund.
MORD.
Lord Gilla, if my hope may take successe,
And that I be thereby vndoubted King,
The Cornish Dukedome I allot to you.
GILLA·
My Liedge to further your desir'd attempts,
I ioyfully shall spend my dearest blood.
The rather, that I found the King your Sire
So heauy Lord to me, and all my stocke.
MORD.
Since then our rest is on't, and we agreéd
To warre it out: what resteth now but blowes?
Driue Destnies on with swords, Mars frames the meanes,
Henceforth what Mordred may, now lies in you.
Ere long if Mars insue with good successe,
Looke whatsoe'r it be, that Arthur claimes,
By right, a wrong, or conquests gaind with blood,
In Brytaine, or abroade is mine to giue.
To shewe I would haue said: I cannot giue,
What euery hand must giue vnto it selfe.
Whereof who lists to purchase any share,
Now let him seéke and winne it with his Sword:
The Fates haue laide it open in the field.
What Starres (O Heauens) or Poles, or Powers diuine
Doe graunt so great rewards for those that winne?
Since then our common good, and ech mans care
Requires our ioint assistance in these toyles:
Shall we not hazard our extreamest hap,
And rather spend our Fates, then spare our foes?
The cause, I care for most, is chiefely yours:
This hand and hart shall make mine owne secure.
That man shall seé me foiled by my selfe,
What e'r he be, that seés my foe vnfoilde.
Feare not the feild because of Mordreds faults,
Nor shrinke one iotte the more for Arthurs right.
Full safely Fortune guideth many a guilt,
And Fates haue none but wretches whom they wrenche.
Wherefore make speéde to cheare your Souldiers harts,
That to their fires you yet may adde more flames.
The side that seékes to winne in ciuill warres,
Must not content it selfe with woonted heate.
Exeunt omnes preter Mordred & Conan.
CONA.
WOuld God your highnes had beéne more aduisde,
Ere too much will had drawen your wits too farre:
Then had no warres indangerd you, nor yours,
Nor Mordreds cause required forreine care.
MORD.
A troubled head: my minde reuolts to feare,
And beares my body backe: I inwards f [...]éle my fall.
[Page 21]My thoughts misgeue me much: downe terror: I
Perceiue mine ende: and desperate though I must
Despise Dispaire, and somewhat hopelesse hope.
The more I doubt, the more I dare: by feare
I finde the fact is fittest for my fame.
What though I be a ruine to the Realme,
And fall my selfe therewith? No better end.
His last mishaps doe make a man secure.
Such was King Priams ende, who, when he dyed,
Closde and wrapt vp his Kingdome in his death.
A solemne pompe, and fit for Mordreds minde,
To be a graue and tombe to all his Realme.
Exeunt.
CHORVS.
1
Ye Princely Peéres extold to seates of State,
Seéke not the faire, that soone will turne to fowle:
Oft is the fall of high and houering Fate,
And rare the roome, which time doth not controwle.
The safest seate is not on highest hill,
Where windes, and stormes, and thunders thumpe their ill.
Farre safer were to follow sound aduise,
Then for such pride to pay so deare a price.
2
The mounting minde that climes the hauty cliftes,
And soaring seékes the tip of lofty type,
Intoxicats the braine with guiddy drifts,
Then rowles, and reéles, and falles at length plum ripe.
Loe: heauing hie is of so small forecast,
To totter first, and tumble downe at last.
Yet Paegasus still reares himselfe on hie,
And coltishly doth kicke the cloudes in Skie.
3
Who sawe the griefe engrauen in a Crowne,
Or knew the bad and bane whereto it's bound:
Would neuer sticke to throwe and fling it downe,
Nor once vouchsafe to heaue it from the ground.
Such is the sweéte of this ambitious powre,
No sooner had, then turnde eftsoones to sowre:
Atchieu'd with enuie, exercisde with hate,
Garded with feare, supported with debate.
4
O restlesse race of high aspyring head,
O worthlesse rule both pittyed and inuied:
How many Millions to their losse you lead:
With loue and lure of Kingdomes blisse vntryed?
So things vntasted cause a quenchlesse thirst,
Which, were they knowne, would be refused first,
Yea, oft we seé, yet seéing cannot shonne
The fact, we finde as fondly dar'd, as donne.
The argument of the third Act.
1 IN the first Scene Cador and Howell incite and exhort Arthur vnto warre: Who mooued with Fatherly affection towards his sonne, notwithstanding their perswasions resolueth vpon peace.
2 In the second Scene, an Herault is sent from Mordred to commaund Arthur to discharge his armies vnder paine of death, or otherwise if he dare, to trie it by Battaile.
3 In the third Scene Arthur calleth his Assistants and Souldiers together, whom he exhorteth to pursue their foes.
4 In the fourth Scene Arthur between griefe and despaire resolueth to warre.
¶ The Argument and manner of the third dumbe shewe.
DVring the Musicke after the second Act. There came vppon the stage two gentlemen attyred in peaceable manner, which brought with them a Table, Carpet, and Cloth: and then hauing couered the Table they furnisht it with incense on the one ende, and banqueting dishes on the other ende: Next there came two gentlemen apparelled like Souldiers with two naked Swordes in their handes, the which they laide a crosse vpon the Table. Then there came two sumptuously attyred and warrelike, who, spying this preparation smelled the incense and tasted the banquet. During the which there came a Messenger and deliuered certaine letters to those two that fedde on the daineties: who, after they had well viewed and perused the letters, furiously flung the banquet vnder feete▪ and violently snatching the Swordes vnto them, they hastily went their way. By the first two that brought in the banquet was meant the seruaunts of Peace, by the second two were meant the seruaunts of Warre: By the two last were meant Arthur and Cador, By the Messenger and his Letters was meant the defiance from Mordred.
THE THIRD ACT and second scene.
Arthur. Cador. Howell.
[...]RTH.
IS this the welcome that my Realme prepares?
Be these the thankes I winne for all my warres?
Thus to forbid me land? to slaie my friends?
To make their bloud distaine my Countrie shoares?
My sonne (belike) least that our force should faint
For want of warres, preparde vs warres himselfe.
He thought (perhaps) it mought empaire our fame,
[Page 23]If none rebeld, whose fotle might praise our power.
Is this the fruit of Mordreds forward youth,
And tender age discreet beyond his yeres?
O false and guilfull life, O craftie world:
How cunningly conuaiest thou fraude vnseene?
Thambicious seemeth meeke, the wanton chast,
Disguised vice for vertue vants it selfe.
Thus (Art [...]) thus hath Fortune plaid her part,
Blinde for thy weale, cleare sighted for thy woe.
Thy kingdome's gone, thy phere affordes no faith,
Thy sonne rebels, of all thy wonted pompe
No [...]ot is left, and Fortune hides her face.
No place is left for prosperous plight, mishaps
Haue roome and waies to runne and walke at will.
Lo (Cador) both our states, your daughter's trust,
My sonn's respect, our hopes reposde in both.
CADO.
The time (puissant Prince) permits not now
To moane our wrongs, or search each seuerall sore.
Since Arthur thus hath ransackt all abroade,
What meruaile ist, if Mordred raue at home?
When farre and neere your warres had worne the world,
What warres were left for him, but ciuill warres,
All which requires reuenge with sword and fire,
And to pursue your foes with presence force.
In iust attempts Mars giues a rightfull doome.
ARTH.
Nay rather (Cador) let them runne their race,
And leaue the Heauens reuengers of my wrong.
Since Brytaines prosperous state is thus debasde
In seruile sort to Mordreds cursed pride,
Let me be thrall, and leade a priuate life:
None can refuse the yoake his Countrie beares.
But as for warres, insooth my flesh abhorres,
To bid the battayle to my proper bloud.
Great is the loue, which nature doth inforce
From kin to kin, but most from sire to sonne.
HOWE.
The noble necke disdaines the seruile yoke,
Where rule hath pleasde, subiection seemeth strange.
A King ought alwaies to preferre his Realme,
Before the loue he beares to kin or sonne.
Your Realme destroide is neere restord againe,
But time may send you kine and sonnes inough.
ARTH.
How hard it is to rule th'aspiring minde,
And what a kingly point it seemes to those,
Whose Lordlie hands the stately Scepter swaies,
Still to pursue the drift they first decreed:
My wonted minde and kingdome lets me know.
Thinke not, but if you driue this hazard on,
He desperate will resolue to winne or die:
Whereof who knowes which were the greater guilt,
The sire to slaie the sonne, or sonne the sire.
CADO.
If bloudie Mars doe so extreamly swaie,
[Page 24]That either sonne or sire must needs be slaine,
Geue Lawe the choice: let him die that deserues.
Each impotent affection notes a want.
No worse a vice then lenitie in Kings,
Remisse indulgence soone vndoes a Realme.
He teacheth how to sinne, that winkes at sinnes,
And bids offend, that suffereth an offence.
The onely hope of leaue increaseth crimes,
And he that pardoneth one, emboldneth all
To breake the Lawes. Each patience fostereth wrongs.
But vice seuerely punisht faints at foote,
And creepes no further off, then where it falls.
One sower example will preuent more vice,
Than all the best perswasions in the world.
Rough rigour lookes out right, and still preuailes:
Smooth mildnesse lookes too many waies to thriue.
Wherefore since Mordreds crimes haue wrongd the Lawes
In so extreame a sort, as is too strange:
Let right and iustice rule with rigours aide,
And worke his wracke at length, although too late:
That damning Lawes, so damned by the Lawes,
Hee may receiue his deepe deserued doome.
So let it fare with all, that dare the like:
Let sword, let fire, let torments be their end.
Seueritie vpholds both Realme and rule.
ARTH.
Ah too seuere, farre from a Fathers minde.
Compassion is as fit for Kings as wrath.
Lawes must not lowre. Rule oft admitteth ruthe.
So hate, as if there were yet cause to loue:
Take not their liues as foes, which may be friends.
To spoile my sonne were to dispoile my selfe:
Oft, whiles we seeke our foes, we seeke our foiles.
Let's rather seeke how to allure his minde
With good deserts: deserts may winne the worst.
[...]OWE.
Where Cato first had saued a theefe from death,
And after was himselfe condemnd to die:
When else not one would execute the doome,
Who but the theefe did vndertake the taske?
If too much bountie worke so bad effects
In thanklesse friends, what for a ruthlesse foe?
Let Lawes haue still their course, the ill disposde
Grudge at their liues, to whom they owe too much.
ARTH.
But yet where men with reconciled mindes
Renue their loue with recontinued grace,
Attonement frames them friends of former foes,
And makes the moodes of swelling wrath to swage.
No faster friendship, than that growes from griefe,
When melting mindes with mutuall ruth relent.
How close the seuered skinne vnites againe,
When salues haue smoothlie heald the former hurts?
CADO.
I neuer yet sawe hurt so smoothly heald,
[Page 25]But that the skarre bewraid the former wound:
Yea, where the salue did soonest close the skinne,
The sore was oftner couered vp than cur'de.
Which festering deepe and filde within, at last
With sodaine breach grew greater than at first,
What then for mindes, which haue reuenging moodes,
And ne'r forget the crosse they forced beare?
Whereto if reconcilement come, it makes
The t'one secure, whiles t'other workes his will.
Attonement sield defeates, but oft deferres
Reuenge: beware a reconciled foe.
ARTH.
Well, what auailes to linger in this life,
Which Fortune but reserues for greater griefe?
This breath drawes on but matter of mishap:
Death onely frees the guiltlesse from anoies.
Who so hath felt the force of greedie Fates,
And dur'de the last decree of grislie death,
Shall neuer yeeld his captiue armes to chaines,
Ner drawne in triumph decke the victors pompe.
HOWE.
What meane these wordes? Is Arthur forc'de to feare,
Is this the fruit of your continuall warres,
Euen from the first remembrance of your youth?
ARTH.
My youth (I graunt) and prime of budding yeares
Puft vp with pride and fond desire of praise,
Foreweéning nought what perils might ensue,
Aduentured all, and raught to will the raignes.
But now this age requires a sager course,
And will aduisde by harmes to wisedome yeélds.
Those swelling spirits the selfe same cause which first
Set them on gog, euen Fortunes fauours quaild.
And now mine oftnest skapes doe skare me most,
I feare the trappe, whereat I oft haue tript:
Experience tels me plaine that Chance is fraile,
And oft, the better past, the worse to come.
CADO.
Resist these doubts: tis ill to yeeld to harmes.
T'is safest then to dare when most you feare.
ARTH.
As safe sometimes to feare, when most we dare.
A causelesse courage giues repentance place.
HOWE.
If Fortune fawns.
ARTH.
Each waie on me she frowns.
For winne I, loose I, both procure my griefe.
CADO.
Put case you winne, what griefe?
ARTH.
Admit I doe,
What ioy?
CADOR.
Then may you rule.
ARTH.
When I may [...]
CADO.
To rule is much.
ARTH.
Small if we couet naught.
CADO.
Who couets not a Crowne.
ARTH.
He that discernes
The swoord aloft.
CADOR.
That hangeth fast.
ARTH.
But by
A haire.
CADOR.
Right holdes it vp.
ARTH.
Wrong puls it do [...]
CADO.
The Commons helpe the King.
ARTH.
They sometimes hurt.
CADO.
At least the Peeres.
ARTH.
Sield, if allegeance want.
CADO.
Yet Soueraigntie.
ARTH.
Not, if allegeance faile.
CADO.
Doube not, the Realme is yours.
ARTH.
T'was mine till now.
CADO.
And shall be still.
ARTH.
If Mordred list.
CADOR.
T'were we [...]
[Page 26]Your crowne were wonne.
ARTH.
Perhaps tis bettes lost.
[...]OWE.
The name of rule should moue a princely minde.
[...]RTH.
Trust me, bad things haue often glorious names.
[...]OWE.
The greatest good that Fortune can affoord.
[...]RTH.
A dangerous good that wisedome would eschue.
[...]OWE.
Yet waigh the hearesaie of the olde renowme,
And Fame the Wonderer of the former age:
Which still extolls the facts of worthyest wights,
Preferring no deserts before your deeds.
Euen she exhorts you to this new attempts,
Which left vntryde your winnings be but losse.
[...]RTH.
Small credit will be giuen of matters past
To Fame, the Flatterer of the former age.
Were all beleeu'd which antique bruite imports,
Yet wisedome waighes the perill ioinde to praise:
Rare is the Fame (marke well all ages gone)
Which hath not hurt the house it most enhaun'st.
Besides, Fame's but a blast that sounds a while,
And quickely stints, and then is quite forgot.
Looke whatsoe'r our vertues haue atchieu'd,
The Chaos vast and greédy time deuours.
To day all Europe rings of Arthurs praise:
T'wilbe as husht, as if I ne'r had beéne.
What bootes it then to venture life or limme,
For that, which neédes e'r long we leaue, or loose,
CADO.
Can blinde affection so much bleare the wise,
Or loue of gracelesse Sonne so witch the Sire?
That what concernes the honour of a Prince
With Countries good and Subiects iust request,
Should lightly be contemned by a King?
When Lucius sent but for his tribute due,
You went with thirteéne Kings to roote him out:
Haue Romaines, for requiring but their owne,
Aboad your nine yeares brunts: Shall Mordred scape,
That wrong'd you thus in honour, Queéne, and Realme?
Were this no cause to stirre a King to wrath,
Yet should your Conquests late atchieu'd gainst Rome
Inflame your minde with thirst of full reuenge.
ARTH.
Indeéde, continuall warres haue chafte our mindes,
And good successe hath bred impatient moodes.
Rome puffes vs vp, and makes vs too too fierce:
There, Brytaines, there we stand, whence Rome did fall.
Thou Lucius mak'st me proude, thou heau'st my minde:
But what? shall I esteéme a Crowne ought else,
Then as a gorgeous Crest of easelesse Helme,
Or as some brittel mould of glorious pompe,
Or glittering glasse, which, whiles it shines, it breakes?
All this a sodaine Chaunce may dash, and not
Perhaps with thirteéne Kings, or in nine yeares:
All may not finde so slowe and lingring Fates.
What, that my Country cryes for due remorse
[Page 27]And some reliefe for long sustained toyles?
By Seas and Lands I dayly wrought her wrecke,
And sparelesse spent her life on euery foe.
Eche where my Souldiers perisht, whilest I wonne:
Throughout the world my Conquest was their spoile.
A faire reward for all their deaths, for all
Their warres abroad, to giue them ciuill warres.
What bootes it them reseru'd from forreine foiles
To die at home? What ende of ruthelesse rage?
At least let age, and Nature worne to nought,
Prouide at length their graues with wished groanes.
Pitty their hoary haires, their feéble fists,
Their withered lims, their strengths consumde in Campe.
Must they still ende their liues amongest the blades?
Rests there no other Fate whiles Arthur raignes?
What deéme you me? a furie sedde with blood,
Or some Ciclopian borne and bred for braules?
Thinke on the minde, that Arthur beares to peace:
Can Arthur please you no where but in warres?
Be witnesse Heauens how farre t'is from my minde,
Therewith to spoile or sacke my natiue soile:
I cannot yeélde, it brookes not in my breast,
To seeke her ruine, whom I erst haue rulde.
What reliques now so e'r both ciuill broyles,
And forreine warres haue left, let those remaine:
Th'are fewe inough, and Brytaines fall too fast.
The second scene.
An Herault from Mordred.
HOWE.
LO here an Herault sent from Mordreds Campe,
A froward message, if I reede aright:
We mought not stirre his wrath: perhaps this may:
Perswasions cannot moue a Bryt [...]ines moode,
And yet none sooner stung with present wrong.
HERAV.
Haile peérelesse Prince, whiles Fortune would, our King,
Though now bereft of Crowne and former rule.
Uouchsafe me leaue my message to impart,
No iotte inforst, but as your Sonne affords.
If here you stay but threé dayes to an ende,
And not forthwith discharge your bands and hoast,
It's Mordreds oath: Assure your selfe to die.
But if you finde your courage so to serue,
As for to stand to your defence with force,
In Cornewell (if you dare) he'il trye it out.
ARTH.
Is this the choyce my Sonne doth send his Sire,
And must I die? Or trye it if I dare?
To die were ill, thus to be dar'd is worse.
[Page 28]Display my standart forth, let Trumpe and Drumme
Call Souldiers nere, to heare their Soueraignes heast.
The third scene.
Gawin King of Albanie. Aschillus King of Denmarke. King of Norway. A number of Souldiers.
ARTH.
O Friends and fellowes of my weriest toyles,
Which haue borne out with me so many brunts,
And desperate stormes of wars and brainsicke Mars.
Loe now the hundreth month wherein we winne.
Hath all the bloud we spent in forreine Coasts,
The wounds, and deaths, and winters boad abroade,
Deserued thus to be disgrac'd at home?
All Brytaine rings of warres: No towne, nor fielde
But swarmes with armed troupes: the mustering traines
Stop vp the streétes: no lesse a tumult's raisde,
Then when Hengistus fell and Horsus fierce
With treacherous truce did ouerrunne the Realme.
Each corner threatneth Death: both farre and nere
Is Arthur vext. What if my force had faild,
And standarde falne, and ensignes all beene torne,
And Roman troupes pursude me at the heéles,
With lucklesse warres assaid in forreine soiles?
Now that our Fortune heaues vs vp thus hie,
And Heauens themselues renewe our olde renowme:
Must we be darde? Nay, let that Princocke come,
That knowes not yet himselfe, nor Arthurs force,
That ne'r yet waged warres, that's yet to learne
To giue the charge: Yea let that Princocke come,
With sodayne Souldyers pampered vp in peace,
And gowned troupes, and wantons worne with ease:
With sluggish Saxons crewe, and Irish kernes,
And Scottish aide, and false redshanked Picts,
Whose slaughters yet must teach their former foyle.
They shall perceaue with sorrow e'r they part,
When all their toyles be tolde, that nothing workes
So great a wast and ruine in this age,
As doe my warres. O Mor [...]red blessed Sonne:
No doubt, these market mates so highly hier'd
Must be the stay of thy vsurped state.
And least my head inclining now to yeares,
Should ioy the rest, which yet it neuer reapt:
The Traytor Gilla, traind in treacherous iarres,
Is chiefe in armes, to reaue me of my Realme.
What corner (ah) for all my warres shall shrowde
My bloodlesse age? what seate for due deserts?
[Page 29]What towne, or field for auncient Souldiers rest?
What house? What rooffe? What walls for weried lims?
Stretch out againe, stretch out your conquering hands,
Still must we vse the force so often vsde.
To those, that will pursue a wrong with wreke,
He giueth all, that once denies the right.
Thou soile which erst Diana did ordaine
The certaine seate and bowre of wandring Brute:
Thou Realme which ay I reuerence as my Saint,
Thou stately Brytaine th'auncient tipe of Troy,
Beare with my forced wrongs: I am not he,
That willing would impeach thy peace with warres.
Lo here both farre and wide I Conqueror stand,
Arthur each where thine owne, thy Liedge, thy King.
Condemne not mine attempts: he, onely he
Is sole in fault, that makes me thus thy foe.
Here I renounce all leagues and treats of truce,
Thou Fortune henceforth art my garde and guide.
Hence peace, on warres, runne Fates, let Mars be iudge,
I erst did trust to right, but now to rage.
Goe: tell the boy that Arthur feares no brags,
In vaine he seekes to braue it with his Sire.
I come (Mordred) I come, but to thy paine.
Yea, tell the boy his angry father comes,
To teach a Nouist both to die, and dare.
Herault Exit.
HOWE.
If we without offence (O greatest guide
Of Brytish name? may poure our iust complaints:
We most mislike that your too milde a moode
Hath thus withheld our hands and swords from strokes.
For what? were we behind in any helpe?
Or without cause did you misdoubt our force,
Or truth so often tried with good successe?
Goe to: Conduct your army to the fielde,
Place man to man, oppose vs to our foes:
As much we neéde to worke, as wish your weale.
CADO.
Seémes it so sowre to winne by ciuill warres?
Were it to goare with Pike my fathers braest,
Were it to riue and cleaue my brothers head,
Were it to teare peécemeale my dearest childe,
I would inforce my grudging handes to helpe.
I cannot terme that place my natiue soyle,
Whereto your trumpets send their warrlike sounds.
If case requir'd to batter downe the Towres
Of any Towne, that Arthur would destroy:
Yea, wer't of Brytaines selfe, which most I rede:
Her bulwarkes, fortresse, rampiers, walles and fence,
These armes should reare the Rams to runne them downe.
Wherefore ye Princes, and the rest my mates,
If what I haue auerd in all your names,
Be likewise such as stands to your content,
Let all your Yeas auow my promise true.
SOVL.
[Page 30]Yea, yea, &c.
ASCH.
Wherein renowmed King my selfe, or mine,
My life, my Kingdome, and all Denmarke powre
May serue your turne, account them all your owne.
KING
And whatsoe'r my force or Norwaie aide
Norway.
May helpe in your attempts, I vow it here.GAWI.
As heretofore I alwayes serude your heast,
So let this daie be iudge of Gawins trust.
Either my brother Mordred dies the death
By mine assault, or I at least by his.
ARTH.
Since thus (my faithfull mates) with vowes alike,
And equall loue to Arthurs cause you ioyne
In common care, to wreake my priuate wrongs:
Lift vp your Ensignes efts, stretch out your strengths,
Pursue your Fates, performe your hopes to Mars,
Loe here the last and outmost worke for blades.
This is the time that all our valour craues.
This time by due desert restores againe
Our goods, our lands, our liues, our weale and all.
This time declares by Fates whose cause is best,
This, this condemnes the vanquisht side of guilt.
Wherefore if for my sake you scorne your selues,
And spare no sword nor fire in my defence:
Then whiles my censure iustifies your cause,
Fight, fight amaine: and cleare your blades from crime,
The Iudge once changde, no warres are free from guilt.
The better cause giues vs the greater hope
Of prosperous warres, wherein if once I hap
To spie the wonted signes, that neuer failde
Their guide, your threatning lookes, your firie eies,
And bustling bodies prest to present spoile:
The field is wonne. Euen then me thinkes I see
The wonted wasts, and scattered heads of foes,
The Irish carcas kickt, and Pictes opprest,
And Saxons slaine, to swim in streames of bloud.
I quake with hope. I can assure you all,
We neuer had a greater match in hand.
March on: delaie no Fates whiles Fortune fawnes,
The greatest praise of warres consists in speed.
Exeunt Regis et Cohors.
The fourth scene.
Cador. Arthur.
CADO.
SInce thus (victorious King) your Peéres, allies,
Your Lords, and all your powres be ready prest,
For good, for bad, for whatsoe'r shall hap,
To spend both limme and life in your defence:
Cast of all doubts, and rest your selfe on Mars:
[Page 31]A hopelesse feare forbids a happy Fate.
ARTH.
In sooth (good Cador) so our Fortune fares,
As neédes we must returne to woonted force.
To warres we must: but such vnhappy warres,
As yeéld no hope for right or wrong to scape.
My selfe foreseés the Fate, it cannot fall
Without our dearest blood: much may the minde
Of pensiue Sire presage, whose Sonne so sinnes.
All truth, all trust, all blood, all bands be broke,
The seédes are sowne that spring to future spoyle,
My Sonne, my Nephew, yea each side my selfe,
Nerer then all (woe's me) too nere, my foe.
Well: t'is my plague for life so lewdly ledde,
The price of guilt is still a heauier guilt.
For were it light, that eu'n by birth my selfe
Was bad, I made my sister bad: nay were
That also light, I haue begot as bad.
Yea worse, an heire assignde to all our sinnes.
Such was his birth: what base, what vulgar vice
Could once be lookt for of so noble blood?
The deéper guilt descends, the more it rootes:
The younger imps affect the huger crimes.
Exeunt.
CHORVS.
1
When many men assent to ciuill warres,
And yeélde a suffradge to inforce the Fates:
No man bethinkes him of his owne mishappe,
But turnes that lucke vnto an other's share.
Whereas if feare did first forewarne ech foyle,
Such loue to fight would breéd no Brytains bane.
And better were still to preserue our peace,
Then thus to vent for peace through waging warres.
What follie to forgoe such certayne happes,
And in their steede to feede vncertayne hopes?
Such hopes as oft haue puft vp many a Realme,
Till crosse successe hath prest it downe as deépe:
Whiles blind affection fetcht from priuate cause
Misguiding wit hath maskt in wisedom's vaile,
Pretending what in purpose it abhorr'd.
2
Peace hath threé foes incamped in our breasts,
Ambition, Wrath, and Enuie: which subdude,
We should not faile to finde eternall peace.
T'is in our powre to ioy it all at will,
And fewe there be, but if they will, they may:
But yet euen those, who like the name of peace,
Through fond desire repine at peace it selfe.
Betweéne the hope whereof, and it it selfe,
A thousand things may fall: that further warres.
The very speéch sometimes and treats of truce,
Is slasht and cut a sunder with the sword.
[Page 32]Norsield the name of peace doth edge our mindes,
And sharpeneth on our furie till we fight:
So that the mention made of loue and rest
Is oft a whetstone to our hate and rage.
3
Lo here the end, that Kingly pompe imparts,
The quiet rest, that Princely pallace plights.
Care vpon care, and euery day a newe
Fresh rysiyg tempest tires the tossed mindes.
Who striues to stand in pompe of Princely port,
On guiddy top and culme of slippery Court,
Findes oft a heauy Fate, whiles too much knowne
To all, he falles vnknowne vnto himselfe.
Let who so else that list, affect the name,
But let me seéme a Potentate to none:
My slender barke shall ceeépe anenst the shoare,
And shunne the windes, that sweépe the waltering waues.
Prowde Fortune ouerhippes the saffest Roades,
And seékes amidst the surging Seas those Keéles,
Whose lofty tops and tacklings touch the Cloudes.
4
O base, yet happy Boores! O giftes of Gods
Scant yet perceau'd▪ when poudred Ermine roabes
With secrete sighes mistrusting their extreames,
In batlefull breast forecast their foultring Fates,
And stirre, and striue, and storme, and all in vaine:
Behold, the Peasant poore with tattered coate,
Whose eyes a meaner Fortune feédes with sleépe,
How safe and sound the carelesse Snudge doth snore.
Low rooffed lurkes the house of slender hap,
Costlesse, not gay without, scant cleane within:
Yet safe: and oftner shroudes the hoary haires,
Then haughty Turrets rearde with curious art,
To harbour heads that wield the golden Crest.
With endlesse carke in glorious Courts and Townes,
The troubled hopes and trembling feares doe dwell.
The Argument of the fourth Act.
1 IN the first Scene Gildas and Conan conferre of the state of Brytaine.
2 In the Second Scene Nuntius maketh report of the whole battaile, with the death of Mordred and Arthurs and Cadors deadly wound.
3 In the third Scene Gildas and Conan lament the infortunate state of the Countrie.
¶ The Argument and manner of the fourth dumbe shewe.
DVring the Musicke appointed after the third act, there came a Lady Co [...]ly attyred with a counterfaite Childe in her armes, who walked softly the Stage. From an other place there came a King Crowned, who likew [...] walked on an other part of the Stage. From a third place there came foure Soul [...]ers all armed, who spying this Lady and King, vpon a sodaine pursued the [...] from whom they violently tooke her Childe and flung it against the walles; [...] in mournefull sort wringing her hands passed her way. Then in like manner [...] sette on the King, tearing his Crowne from his head, and casting it in peeeces [...] feete draue him by force away; And so passed themselues ouer the Stage▪ [...] this was meant the fruit of Warre, which spareth neither man woman nor [...] with the ende of Mordreds vsurped Crowne.
THE FOVRTH ACT and first scene.
Gildas. Conan.
GILD.
LORD Conan, though I know how hard a thing
It is, for mindes trainde vp in Princely Thrones,
To heare of ought against their humor's course:
Yet: sithence who forbiddeth not offence,
If well he may, is cause of such offence:
I could haue wisht (and blame me not my Lord)
Your place and countnance both with Sonne and Sire,
Had more preuailde on either side, then thus
T'haue left a Crowne in danger for a Crowne
Through ciuill warres, our Countries woonted woe.
Whereby the Kingdom's wound still festring deépe,
Sucks vp the mischiefe's humor to the hart.
The staggering state of Brytaines troubled braines,
Headsicke, and sore incumbred in her Crowne,
With guiddy steps runnes on a headlong race.
Whereto this tempest tend's, or where this storme
Will breake, who knowes? But Gods auert the worst.
CONA.
Now surely (Gildas) as my duety stood,
Indifferent for the best to Sonne and Sire:
So (I protest) since these occasions grewe,
That in the depth of my desire to please,
I more esteémde what honest faith requir'd
In matters meéte for their estates and place:
Than how to feéde each fond affection prone
To bad effects, whence their disgrace mought growe.
And as for Mordreds desperate and disloyall plots,
[Page 33]They had beéne none, or fewer at the least,
Had I preuail'd: which Arthur knowes right well.
But eu'n as Counters goe sometimes for one,
Sometimes for thousands more, sometimes for none:
So men in greatest countnance with their King,
Can worke by fit perswasion sometimes much:
But sometimes lesse: and sometimes nought at all.
GILD.
Well: wee that haue not spent our time in warres,
But bent our course at peace, and Countries weale,
May rather now expect what strange euent,
And Chaunce insues of these so rare attempts:
Then enter to discourse vpon their cause,
And erre as wide in wordes, as they in deédes.
GONA.
And Lo: to satisfie your wish therein,
Where comes a Souldier sweating from the Camps.
The second scene.
Nuncius.
NVNC.
THOU Eccho shrill that hauntst the hollow hisses,
Leaue off that woont to snatch the latter word:
Howle on a whole discourse of our distresse,
Clippe of no clause: sound out a perfect sense.
GILD.
What fresh mishap (alas) what newe annoy,
Remoues our pensiue mindes from wonted woes,
And yet requires a newe lamenting moode?
Declare: we ioy to handle all our harmes:
Our many griefes haue taught vs still to mourne.
NVNC.
But (ah) my toung denies my speéch his aide:
Great force doth driue it forth: a greater keepes
It in. I rue surprisde with woontlesse woes.
CONA.
Speake on, what griefe so e'r our Fates afford.
NVNC.
Small griefes can speake: the great astonisht stand.
GILD.
What greater sinnes could hap, then what be past?
What mischiefes could be meant, more then were wrought?
NVNC.
And thinke you these to be an end to sinnes?
No. Crime proceédes: those made but one degreé.
What mischiefes earst were done, terme sacred deédes:
Call nothing sinne, but what hath since insu'd.
A greater griefe requires your teares: Behold
These fresh annoyes: your last mishaps be stale.
CONA.
Tell on (my friend) suspend our mindes no more:
Hath Arthur lost? Hath Mordred woonne the field?
NVNC.
O: nothing lesse. Would Gods it were but so.
Arthur hath woonne: but we haue lost the field.
The field? Nay all the Realme, and Brytaines bounds.
GILD.
How so? If Arthur woonne, what could we loose?
You speake in cloudes, and cast perplexed wordes.
Unfolde at large: and sort out sorrowes out.
NVNC.
[Page 34]Then list a while: this instant shall vnwrappe
Those acts, those warres, those hard euents, that all
The future age shall eu'r haue cause to curse.
Now that the time drewe on, when both the Camps
Should meét in Cornwell fieldes th'appointed place:
The reckelesse troupes, whom Fates forbad to liue
Till noone, or night, did storme and raue for warres.
They swarmde about their Guydes, and clustring cald
For signes to fight, and fierce with vprores [...]ell,
They onwards hayld the hastning howres of death.
A direfull frenzie rose: ech man his owne,
And publike Fates all heédlesse headlong flung.
On Mordreds side were sixtie thousande men,
Some borowed powres, some Brytans bred at home.
The Saxons, Irish, Normans, Pictes, and Scottes
Were first in place, the Brytanes followed last.
On Arthurs side there were as manie more.
Islandians, Gothes, Noruegians, Albanes, Danes,
Were forraine aides, which Arthur brought from Fraunce,
A trustie troupe, and tryed at many a trench.
That nowe the day was come, wherein our State
For aye should fall, whenceforth men might inquire
What Brytaine was: these warres thus neere bewraide.
Nor could the Heauens no longer hide these harmes,
But by prodigious signes portende our plagues.
For lo: er both the Campes encountering coapt,
The Skies and Poles opposed themselues with stormes.
Both East, and West with tempestes darke were dim'd,
And showres of Hayle, and Rayne outragious powr'd.
The Heauens were rent, ech side the lightnings flasht,
And Clowdes with hideous clappes did thundering roare.
The armies all agast did senselesse stand,
Mistrusting much, both Force, and Foes, and Fates.
T'was harde to say, which of the two appal'd
Them most, the monstrous ayre, or too much feare.
When Arthur spide his Souldiers thus amaz'd,
And hope extinct, and deadly dreade drawne on:
My mates (quoth he) the Gods doe skowre the skies,
To seé whose cause and courage craues their care.
The Fates contende to worke some straunge euent:
And Fortune seéks by stormes in Heauens and Earth,
What pagions she may play for my behoofe.
Of whom she knowes, she then deserues not well,
When lingring ought, she comes not at the first.
Thus saide: reioycing at his dauntlesse minde,
They all reuiude, and former feare recoylde.
By that the light of Titan's troubled beames
Had pearceing scattered downe the drowping fogges,
And greeted both the Campes with mutuall viewe:
Their choller swelles, whiles fell disposed mindes
Bounce in their breastes, and stirre vncertayne stormes.
[Page 35]Then palenes wanne and sterne with chearelesse chaunge,
Possessing bleake their lippes and bloodlesse cheékes,
With troublous trembling shewes their death is nere.
When Mordred sawe the danger thus approacht,
And boystrous throngs of Warriers threatning blood:
His instant ruines gaue a nodde at Fates,
And minde though prone to Mars, yet daunted pausde.
The hart which promist earst a sure successe,
Now throbs in doubts: nor can his owne attempts,
Afforde him feare, nor Arthurs yeélde him hope.
This passion lasts not long, he soone recalls
His auncient guise, and wonted rage returnes.
He loathes delayes, and scorcht with Scepters lust,
The time and place, wherein he oft had wisht
To hazarde all vpon extreamest Chaunce,
He offred spies, and spide pursues with speéde.
Then both the Armies mette with equall might,
This stird with wrath, that with desire to rule:
And equall prowesse was a spurre to both.
The Irish King whirlde out a poysned Dart,
That lighting pearced deépe in Howels braines,
A peérelesse Prince and nere of Arthurs bloud.
Hereat the Aire with vprore lowde resoundes,
Which efts on mountains rough rebounding reares.
The Trumpets hoarce their trembling tunes doe teare▪
And thundring Drummes their dreadfull Larums ring.
The Standards broad are blowne, and Ensignes spread,
And euery Nation bends his woonted warres.
Some nere their foes, some further off doe wound,
With dart, or sword, or shaft, or pike, or speare,
The weapons hide the Heauens: a night composde
Of warrelike Engines ouershades the field.
From euery side these fatall signes are sent:
And boystrous bangs with thumping thwacks fall thicke.
Had both these Camps beéne of vsurping Kings,
Had euery man thereof a Mordred beéne,
No fiercelier had they fought for all their Crownes.
The murthers meanelesse waxt, no art in fight,
Nor way to ward nor trie each others skill,
But thence the blade, and hence the bloud ensues.
CONA.
But what? Did Mordreds eyes indure this sight?
NVNC.
They did. And he himselfe the spurre of fiends
And Gorgons all, least any part of his
Scapt freé from guilt, enflamde their mindes to wrath.
And, with a valure more, then Uertue yeélds,
He chearde them all, and at their backe with long
Outreached speare, stirde vp each lingring hand.
All furie like frounst vp with frantick frets.
He bids them leaue and shunne the meaner sort,
He shewes the Kings, and Brytaines noblest peeres.
GILD.
He was not now to seéke what bloud to drawe:
[Page 36]He knewe what iuice refresht his fainting Crowne.
Too much of Arthurs hart. O had he wist
How great a vice such vertue was as then.
In Ciuill warres, in rooting vp his Realme?
O frantike fury, farre from Ualures praise.
NVNC.
There fell Aschillus stout of Denmarke King,
There valiant Gawin Arthurs Nephew deare,
And late by Angels death made Albane King,
By Mordreds hand hath lost both life and Crowne.
There Gilla wounded Cador Cornish Duke,
In hope to winne the Dukedome for his meede.
The Norway King, the Saxons Duke, and Picts,
In wofull sort fell groueling to the ground.
There Prince and Peasant both lay hurlde on heapes:
Mars frownde on Arthurs mates: the Fates waxt fierce,
And iointly ranne their race with Mordreds rage.
CONA.
But with what ioy (alas) shall he returne,
That thus returnes, the happier for this fielde?
NVNC.
These odds indure not long, for Mars retires,
And Fortune pleasde with Arthurs moderate feare,
Returnes more full, and friendlyer then her woont.
For when he saw the powers of Fates opposde,
And that the dreadfull houre thus hastened on:
Perplexed much in minde, at length resolues,
That feare is couered best by daring most.
Then forth he pitcht: the Saxon Duke withstoode,
Whom with one stroke he headlesse sent to Hell.
Not farre from thence he spide the Irish King,
Whose life he tooke as price of broken truce.
Then Cador foreward prest, and haplie mette
The Traytor Gilla, worker of these warres,
Of whom by death he tooke his due reuenge.
The remnant then of both the Camps concurre,
They Brytaines all, or most: few Forreines left.
These wage the warres, and hence the deaths insue.
Nor t'one, nor t'other side, that can destroy
His foes so fast, as tis it selfe destroyed.
The brethren broach their bloud: the Sire his Sonnes,
The Sonne againe would proue by too much Wrath,
That he, whom thus he slew, was not his Sire.
No blood nor kinne can swage their irefull moodes.
No forreine foe they seéke, nor care to finde:
The Brytaines bloud is sought on euery side.
A vaine discourse it were to paint at large
The seuerall Fates, and foiles of either side.
To tell what grones and sighes the parting Ghosts
Sent forth: who dying bare the fellest breast:
Who chaunged cheare at any Brytaines fall:
Who oftnest strooke: who best bestowde his blade:
Who ventred most: who stoode: who fell: who failde:
Th'effect declares it all: thus far'd the field.
[Page 37]Of both these Hoasts so huge and maine at first,
There were not left on either side a score▪
For Sonne, and Sire to winne, and loose the Realme.
The which when Mordred saw, and that his Sire
Gainst foes, and Fares themselues would winne the field▪
He sigh'd, and twixt despaire and rage he cryed,
Here (Arthur) here, and hence the Conquest comes:
Whiles Mordred liues, the Crowne is yet vnwoonne.
Hereat the prince of prowesse much amaz'd,
With thrilling teares, and countnance cast on ground,
Did groaning fetch a deépe and earnefull sigh.
Anone they fierce encountering both concur'd,
With griesly lookes, and faces like their Fates:
But dispar mindes, and inward moodes vnlike.
The Sire with minde to safegard both, or t'one [...]
The Sonne to spoile the t'one, or hazard both.
No feare, nor fellnes failde on either side:
The wager lay on both their liues and bloods.
At length when Mordred spyde his force to faint,
And felt him selfe opprest with Arthurs strength,
(O haplesse lad, a match vnmeéte for him)
He loathes to liue in that afflicted state,
And valiant with a forced Uertue, longs
To die the death▪ in which perplexed minde,
With grenning teéth, and crabbed lookes he cryes,
I cannot winne: yet will I not be wonne.
What should we shun our Fates, or play with Mars,
Or thus defraude the warres of both our blouds?
Whereto doe we reserue our selues? Or why
Be we not sought ere this, amongest the dead?
So many thousands murthred in our cause,
Must we suruiue, and neither winne nor loose?
The Fates that will not smile on either side,
May frowne on both: So saying forth he flings,
And desperate runs on point of Arthurs Sword,
(A Sword (alas) prepar'd for no such vse)
Whereon engoarde he glides, till nere approcht,
With dying hand he hewes his fathers head.
So through his owne annoy, he noyes his Liedge▪
And gaines by death accesse to daunt his Sire.
There Mordred fell, but like a Prince he fell.
And as a braunch of great Pendragons grafte
His life breaths out, his eyes forsake the Sunne,
And fatall Cloudes inferre a lasting Clips.
There Arthur staggering scant sustaind him selfe,
There Cador found a deepe and deadly wound,
There ceast the warres, and there was Brytaine lost▪
There lay the chosen youths of Mars, there lay
The peérelesse Knights, Bellona's brauest traine.
There lay the Mirrours rare of Martiall praise,
There lay the hope and braunch of Brute supprest.
There laide her pompe, all topsie turuie turnde.
Exit.
The third scene.
Gildas. Conan.
GILD.
COme cruell griefes, spare not to stretch our strengths,
Whiles bailefull breastes inuite our thumping fists.
Let euery signe, that mournefull passions worke,
Expresse what piteous plightes our mindes amaze.
This day supplants what no day can supply,
These handes haue wrought those wastes, that neuer age,
Nor all the broode of Brute shall e'r repaire.
That future men may ioy the surer rest,
These warres preuent their birth, and nip their spring.
What Nations earst the former age subdude
With hourelie toyles to Brytaines yoke, this day
Hath set at large, and backwardes turnde the Fates.
Hencefoorth the Kernes may safely tread their bogges:
The Scots may now their inrodes olde renewe,
The Saxon [...] well may vow their former claimes,
And Danes without their danger driue vs out.
These warres found not the'ffect of woonted warres,
Nor doth their waight the like impression woorke:
There seuerall Fates annoyde but seuerall men,
Heere all the Realme and people finde one Fate.
What there did reache but to a Souldiers death,
Containes the death of all a Nation here.
These blades haue giuen this Isle a greater wounde,
Then tyme can heale. The fruite of ciuill warres:
A Kingdom's hand hath goard a Kingdom's heart,
CONA.
When Fame shall blaze these acts in latter yeares,
And time to come so many ages hence
Shall efts report our toyles and Brytish paynes:
Or when perhaps our Childrens Children reade,
Our woefull warres displaid with skilfull penne:
They'l thinke they heere some sounds of future facts,
And not the ruines olde of pompe long past.
Twill mooue their mindes to ruth, and frame a fresh
New hopes, and feares, and vowes, and many a wish,
And Arthurs cause shall still be fauour'd most.
He was the ioy, and hope, and hap of all,
The Realmes defence, the sole delay of Fates,
He was our wall and forte, twice thirteene yeares
His shoulders did the Brytaine state support.
Whiles yet he raignd, no forren foes preuailde,
Nor once could hope to binde the Brytaine boundes:
But still both farre and nere were forc'd to flie,
[Page 39]They thrall to vs, we to our selues were free.
But now, and hencefoorth aye, adue that hope,
Adue that pompe, that freedome, rule and all:
Let Saxons now, let Normans, Danes, and Scottes.
Enioye our medowes, fieldes, and pleasant plaines:
Come, let vs flye to Mountaines, Cliffes and Rockes,
A Nation hurt, and ne'r in case to heale.
Hencefoorth the waight of Fates thus falne aside,
We res [...] secure from feare of greater foile:
Our leasure serues to thinke on former times,
And know what earst we were, who now are thus.
Exeunt.
CHORVS.
1
O Brytaines prosperous state wert Heauenlye powers
But halfe so willing to preserue thy peace,
As they are prone to plague thee for thy warres.
But thus (O Gods) yea, thus it likes you still.
When you decree to turne, and touse the worlde,
To make our errors cause of your decrees.
We fretting fume, and burning wax right wood,
We crye for swordes, and harmefull harnesse craue,
We rashly raue, whiles from our present rage,
You frame a cause of long foredeemed doome.
2
When Brytaine so desir'd her owne decaie,
That eu'n her natiue broode would roote her vp:
Seamde it so huge a woorke, (O Heauens) for you
To tumble downe, and quite subuert her state,
Unlesse so many Nations came in aide?
What thirst of spoile (O Fates?) In ciuil warres
Were you afraide to faint for want of blood?
But yet, O wretched state in Brytaines fond,
What needed they to stoope to Mordreds yoke,
Or feare the man themselues so fearefull made?
Had they, but lynckt like friendes in Arthurs bandes,
And ioynde their force against the forren foes:
These warres and ciuill sinnes had soone surceast,
And Mordred reft of rule had feard his Sire.
3
Would Gods these warres had drawne no other blood,
Then such as sproong from breasts of forreine foes:
So that the fountaine, fedde with chaungelesse course,
Had found no neerer vents for dearer iuyce.
Or if the Fates so thirst for Brytish blood,
And long so deepely for our last decaie:
O that the rest were sparde and safe reseru'd,
Both Saxons, Danes, and Normans most of all.
Heereof when ciuill warres haue worne vs out,
Must Brytaine stand, a borrowed blood for Brute.
4
When prosperous haps, and long continuing blisse,
Haue past the ripenesse of their budding grouth,
They fall and foulter like the mellow fruite,
[Page 40]Surcharg'd with burden of their owne excesse.
So Fortune wearyed with our often warres,
Is forc'd to faint, and leaue vs to our fates.
If men haue mindes presaging ought their harmes,
If euer heauie heart foreweene her woe:
What Brytaine liues, so far remou'd from home,
In any Ayre, or Pole, or Coast abroade:
But that euen now through Natures sole instinct,
He feeles the fatall sword imbrue his breast,
Wherewith his natiue soyle for aye is slaine?
What hopes, and happes lye wasted in these warres?
Who knowes the foyles he suffered in these fieldes?
The argument of the fift Act.
IN the first scene Arthur and Cador returned deadlie wounded and bewaild the misfortune of themselues and their Countrie, and are likewise bewailed of the Chorus.
In the seconde scene the Gho [...]st of Gorlois returneth reioycing at his reue [...]dge, and wishing euer after a happier Fate vnto Brytaine, which done, he descendeth where he first rose.
¶ The Argument and manner of the fift and last dumbe shewe.
SOunding the Musicke, foure gentlemen all in blacke halfe armed, halfe vnarmed with blacke skarffes ouerthwart their shoulders should come vppon the stage. The first bearing alofte in the one hand on the trunchion of a speare an Helmet, an arming sworde, a Gauntlet, &c. representing the Trophea: in the other hand a Target depicted with a mans hart sore wounded & the blood gushing out, crowned with a Crowne imp [...]riall and a Lawrell garland, thus written in the toppe. En totum quod superest, signifying the King of Norway which spent himselfe and all his power for Arthur, and of whom there was lest nothing but his heart to inioy the conquest that insued. The seconde bearing in the one hand a siluer vessell full of golde, pearles, and other iewels representing the Spolia: in the other hande a Target with an Olephant and Dragon thereon fiercely combacting, the Dragon vnder the Olephant and sucking by his extreme heate the blood from him is crushed in peeces with the fall of the Olephant, so as both die at last, this written aboue, Victor, an Victus? representing the King of Denmarke, who fell through Mordreds wound, hauing first with his souldiers destroyed the most of Mordreds armie. The third bearing in the one hand a Pyramis with a Lawrell wreath about it representing victorie. In the other hand a Target with this deuise: a man sleeping, a snake drawing neere to sting him, a Leazard preuenting the Snake by fight, the Leazard being deadlie wounded awaketh the man, who seeing the Leazard dying, pursues the Snake, and kils it, this written aboue, Tibi morimur. Signifying Gawin King of Albanye slaine in Arthurs defence by Mordred, whom Arthur afterwardes slewe. The fourth bearing in the one hande a broken piller, at the toppe thereof the Crowne and Scepter of the vanquisht King, both broken asunder, representing the conquest ouer vsurpation: in the other hand a Target with two Cockes painted thereon, the one lying dead, the other [Page 41] with his winges broken, his eyes pecked out, and the bloode euerye where gushing foorth to the grounde, he standing vppon the dead Cocke and crowing ouer him, with this embleme in the toppe, Qua vici, p [...]rdidi, signifying Cador deadly wounded by Gilla whom he slewe. After these followed a King languishing in complet Harnesse blacke, brused & battered vnto him, besprinkled with blood. On his head a Lawrell garland, leaning on the shoulders of two Heraults in mourning gownes & hoods, th'on in Mars his coate of arms, the other in Arthurs, presenting Arthur victoriously but yet deadly wounded. there followed a page with a Target whereon was portraited a Pellican pecking her blood out of her brest to feede her young ones, through which wound she dieth, this writen in the toppe, Quafoui, perit, signifying Arthurs too much indulgencie of Mordred, the cause of his death. All this represented the dismayed and vnfortunate victorie of Arthur, which is the matter of the Act insuing.
THE FIFT ACT and first Scene.
Arthur. Cador. Chorus.
ARTH.
COme Cador, as our frendship was most firme
Throughout our age, so now let's linke as fast.
Thus did we liue in warres, thus let vs dye
In peace, and arme in arme pertake our Fates.
Our woundes, our greéfe, our wish, our hap alike,
Our end so neere, all craue eche others helpe.
CADO.
O King, beholde the fruite of all our Fame:
Lo here our Pompe consumed with our selues,
What all our age with all our warres had woonne,
Loe here one day hath lost it all at once.
Well: so it likes the Heauens: thus Fortune gibes:
She hoyseth vp to hurle the deeper downe.
CHOR. 1
O sacred Prince: what sight is this we seé?
Why haue the Fates reseru'd vs to these woes
Our onely hope: the stay of all our Realme:
The piller of our state: thus sore opprest?
O would the Gods had fauour'd vs so much:
That, as we liu'd partakers of your paines,
And likewise ioyde the fruit of your exploytes:
So hauing thus bereft our Soueraignes blisse,
They had with more indifferent doome conioynd
The Subiects both, and Soueraignes bane in one.
It now (alas) ingendereth double greéfe,
To rue your want, and to bewaile our woes.
ARTH.
Rue not my Brytaines what my rage hath wrought,
But blame your King, that thus hath rent your Realme.
My meanelesse moodes haue made the Fates thus fell,
And too much anger wrought in me too much.
For had impatient ire indu'rde abuse,
[Page 42]And yeélded where resistance threatned spoyle?
I mought haue liu'd in forreine coastes vnfoilde,
And six score thousand men had bene vnmoande.
But wrong incensing wrath to take reuenge
Preferred Chaunce before a better choyse.
CHOR. 2
T'was Mordreds wrong and to vniust desertes
That iustly mooude your Highnesse to such wrath:
Your claime requir'd no lesse then those attempts:
Your cause right good was prais'd, and praide for most.
ARTH.
I claimd my Crowne, the cause of claime was good,
The meanes to clame it in such sorte was bad.
Yea: rather then my Realme and natiue soile
Should wounded fall, thus brused with these warres:
I should haue left both Realme, and right, and all:
Or dur'd the death ordaind by [...]ordreds oath.
CADO.
And yet so farre as Mars coulde bide a meane,
You hatelesse sought the safegard of them all.
Whereto the better cause, or badder Chaunce
Did drawe, you still inclinde: preferring oft
The weaker side, sometimes for loue, sometimes
For right, (as Fortune swaide) your Sonne, your selfe.
So pittie spar'd, what reason sought to spoyle:
Till all at length, with equall spoyle was spent.
CHOR. 3
Would Gods your minde had felt no such remorse,
And that your foes had no such fauour founde.
So mought your friends haue had far frendlier Fates,
If Rebels for their due deserts had dyde.
The wickeds death is safety to the iust.
To spare the Traitors, was to spoile the true.
Of force he hurtes the good, that helpes the bad.
In that you sought your Countries gaine, t'was well:
In that you shunned not her losse, t'was hard.
Good is the frend, that seekes to do vs good:
A mighty frend, that doth preuent our harmes.
ARTH.
Well: so it was: it cannot be redrest:
The greater is my greefe, that seés it so.
My lyfe (I feele) doth fade, and sorrowes flowe,
The rather that my name is thus extinct.
In this respect, so Mordred did succeede,
O, that my selfe had falne, and Mordred liu'd▪
That hauing conquer'd all my foes but him,
I mought haue left you him, that conquer'd me.
O heauie wretched lotte: to be the last
That falles, to viewe the buriall of my Realme.
Where each man else hath fealt his seuerall Fate,
I onely pine opprest with all their Fates.
CHOR. 4
Although your Highnesse do susteine such greé [...]e,
As needes enforceth all your Realme to rue:
Yet since such ruth affordeth no releefe,
Let due discretion swage each curelesse sore,
[Page 43]And beare the harmes, that run without redresse.
The losse is ours, that loose so rare a Prince,
The breathlesse body of Mordred in Armour as he fell is brought vpon the Stadge.
You onely [...]in, that see your foe here fo [...]lde.
ARTH.
A causelesse foe. When warres did call me hence
He was in yeares but young, in wit too olde.
As vertue shineth most in comliest wightes,
When inward gifts are deckt with outward grace:
So did his witte and feature f [...]ede that hope,
Which falsely trainde me to this wofull hap.
His minde transformed thus, I cannot chuse
But long to see what change his face sustaines.
My blood and kinred doubled in his birth,
Inspir [...]s a mixt, and t'wice descending loue,
Which driues my dying vaines to wish his view.
Unhealme his luckelesse head, set bare his face:
That face which earst pleas'd me and mine to much.
CHOR. 1
Seé (worthest King) the hope of all your Realme,
Had not his lust to rule preuented all.
ARTH.
I see (alas) I see (hide, hide againe:
O spare mine eyes) a witnesse of my crimes:
A fearefull vision of my former guilte:
A dreadfull horror of a future doome:
A present gaule of minde. O happie they,
Whose spotlesse liues attaine a dreadlesse death.
And thou, O haplesse boye, O spight of Fates,
(What mought I terme thee, Nephew, Sonne, or both?)
Alas, how happie should we both haue bene,
If no ambitious thought had vext thy head,
Nor thou thus st [...]m'de to reaue thy Fathers rule,
But stai [...]e thy tyme, and not forstalde vs both?
CADO.
The hoat spurde youth that forste the forward steédes,
Whiles neédes he would his Fathers Chariot guide,
Neglecting what his Sire had said in charge,
The fires, which first he flung about the poles,
Himselfe at last most wofull wretch inflamde.
So to much loue to houer in the Heauens
Made him to paie the price of rash attemptes.
ARTH.
Wha [...] ruth, (ah,) rent the wofull Fathers hart,
That sawe himselfe thus made a Sonnelesse Sire?
Well: since both Heauens and Hell conspir'd in one,
To make our endes a mirror to the worlde,
Both of incestious life, and wicked birth:
Would Gods the Fates that linckt our faultes alike,
Had also fram'de our minds of frendlier mouldes:
That, as our linage had approcht too neere,
So our affections had not swaru'd to farre.
Then mought I liu'd t'inlarge the Brytaines praise,
In rearing efts the first triumphant Troy
And after thou succeéding mine attempts,
Haue spent thy courage in a iuster cause.
But t'would not be: Ambition grew to greate:
[Page 44]We could not ioyne our mindes: our Fates we ioynde:
And through thy blood, a way was made to mine.
CHOR. 2
And must we neédes (O worthiest Peéres) forgoe,
By this vntimely Fate our greatest hope?
That in your ripest yeares and likelyest time,
Your chiefest force should on this sodaine fall?
CHOR. 3
Haue you throughout your youth made Brytaines pompe
A Soueraigne of so many Nations stout,
To th'end ere halfe your age vntimely death
Should leaue vs Subiect to our woonted foiles?
CHOR. 4
See▪ seé, our idle hopes, our brittle trust,
Our vaine desires, our ouer fickle state.
Which, though a while they sayle on quiet seas,
Yet sinke in surge, ere they ariue to hode.
O wofull warres, O Mordreds cursed pride,
That thus hath wrought both King, and Kingdomes woe▪
CADO.
Let plaints and mournings passe, set moanes a part.
They made much of themselues: Yea too too much
They lou'd to liue, that seéing all their Realme
Thus topsie turuey turnd, would grudge to dye.
ARTH.
Yea sure: since thus (O Fates) your censure seemes,
That freé from force of forreine foes, there rests,
That Mordred reape the glory of our deaths:
B'it so: driue on your doome, worke your decreé:
We fearelesse bide what bane so e'r you bidde.
And though our ends thus hastened through your heasts,
Abruptly breake the course of great attempts:
Yet goe we not inglorious to the ground:
Set wish a part: we haue perfourmd inough.
The Irish King and Nation wilde we tamde:
The Scots and Picts, and Orcade Isles we wanne:
The Danes and Gothes and Friseland men, with all
The Isles inserted nere those Seas, And next
The Germaine King, and Saxons we subdude.
Not Fraunce, that could preuaile against our force,
Nor lastly Rome, that rues her pride supprest.
Ech forreine power is parcell of our praise,
No titles want to make our foes affraide.
This onely now I craue (O Fortune erst
My faithfull friend) let it be soone forgot,
Nor long in minde, nor mouth, where Arthur fell▪
Yea: though I Conquerour die, and full of Fame:
Yet let my death and parture rest obscure.
No graue I neéde (O Fates) nor buriall rights,
Nor stately hearce, nor tombe with haughty toppe:
But let my Carkasse lurke: yea, let my death
Be ay vnknowen, so that in euery Coast
I still be feard, and lookt for euery houre.
Exeunt. Arthur & Cador.
CHOR. 1
Lo here the end that Fortune sends at last
To him, whom first she heau'd to highest happe.
The smiling Fat [...]s, that oft had fedde his Fame:
The many warres and Conquests, which he [...] ▪
Are dasht at once: one day inferres that fo [...],
Whereof so many yeares of yore were freé.
CHOR. [...]
O willing world to magnifie man's state [...]
O most vnwilling to maintaine the same.
Of all misfortunes and vnhappy Fates,
Th'unhappiest seémes, to haue beéne hapie once.
T'was Arthur sole, that neuer found his ioyes
Disturb'd with woe, nor woes relieu'd with ioy [...].
In prosperous state all Heauenly powres aspi [...]'d [...]
Now made a wretch, not one, that spares his spoile.
CHOR. 3
Yea Fortunes selfe in this afflicted case,
Exacts a paine for long continued pompe.
She vrgeth now the blisse of woonted weale,
And beares him downe with waight of former Fam [...].
His prayses past be present shame: O tickle trust:
Whiles Fortune chops and chaungeth euery Chaunce ▪
What certaine blisse can we enioy a liue,
Unlesse, whiles yet our blisse endures, we die [...]
CHOR. 4
Yea: since before his last and outmost gaspe,
None can be deemde a happy man or blest,
Who dares commit him selfe to prosperous Fates,
Whose death preparde attends not hard at hand?
That sithence death must once determine all.
His life may sooner flie, then Fortune flitte.
The second scene.
Gorlois.
GORL.
NOW Gorlois swage thy selfe. Pride hath his pay:
Murther his price: Adult'rie his desert:
Treason his meéde: Disloyaltie his doome:
Wrong hath his wreake: and Guilt his guerdon bear [...].
Not one abuse erst offered by thy foes
But since most sternely punisht, is now purg'd.
Where thou didst fall, eu'n on the selfe same soile
Pendragon, Arthur, Mordred, and their stocke,
Found all their foiles: not one hath s [...]apte reuenge:
Their line from first to last quite razed out.
Now rest content, and worke no further plagues:
Let future age be freé from Gorlois Ghost.
Let Brytaine henceforth bath in endlesse weale.
Let Virgo come from Heauen, the glorious Starre:
The Zodiac's ioy: the Planets chiefe delight:
The hope of all the yeare: the ease of Skies:
The Aires reliefe, the comfort of the Earth.
That vertuous Virgo borne for Brytaines bli [...]:
[Page 46]That pierelesse braunch of Brute: that sweéte remaine
Of Priam's state: that hope of springing Troy:
Which time to come, and many ages hence
Shall of all warres compound eternall peace,
Let her reduce the golden age againe,
Religion, ease, and wealth of former world.
Yea, let that Virgo come and Saturnes raigne,
And yeares oft ten times tolde expirde in peace.
A Rule, that else no Realme shall euer finde,
A Rule most rare, vnheard, vnseéne, vnread,
The sole example that the world affordes.
That (Brytaine) that Renowme, yea that is thine.
B'it so: my wrath is wrought. Ye furies blacke
And vglie shapes, that houle in holes beneath:
Thou Orous darke, and deepe Auernas nooke,
With duskish dennes out gnawne in gulfes belowe,
Receaue your ghastly charge, Duke Gorlois Ghoast:
Make roome: I gladly thus reuengde returne.
And though your paine surpasse▪ I greete them th [...]:
He hates each other Heauen, that haunteth Hell.
Descendi [...].
EPILOGVS.
SEe heére by this the tickle trust of tyme:
The false affiance of each mortall force,
The wauering waight of Fates: the fickell trace,
That Fortune trips: the many mockes of life:
The cheerelesse change: the easelesse brunts and broyles,
That man abides: the restlesse race he runnes.
But most of all, seé héere the peérelesse paines:
The lasting panges: the stintlesse greéfes: the teares:
The sighes: the grones: the feares: the hopes: the hates:
The thoughts and cares, that Kingly pompe impartes.
What follies then bewitch thambicious mindes,
That thirst for Scepters pompe the well of woes?
Whereof (alas) should wretched man be proude,
Whose first conception is but Sinne, whose birth
But paine, whose life but toyle, and neédes must dye?
Sée heére the store of great Pendragons broode,
The to'ne quite dead, the to'ther hastening on,
As men, the Sonne but greene, the Sire but ripe:
Yet both forestalde ere halfe their race were run.
As Kinges, the mightiest Monarches in this age▪
Yet both supprest and vanquisht by themselues.
Such is the brittle breath of mortall man,
Whiles humane Nature workes her dayly wrackes:
Such be the crazed crests of glorious Crownes,
Whiles worldly powers like sudden puffes do passe.
And yet for one that goes, another comes,
[Page 47]Some borne, some dead: So still the store indures.
So that both Fates and common care prou'de
That men must needes be borne, and some must rule.
Wherefore ye Peéres, and Lordings lift aloft,
And whosoe'r in Thrones that iudge your thralls:
Let not your Soueraingty heaue you to hye,
Nor their subiection presse them downe too lowe.
It is not pride, that can augment your power,
Nor lowlie lookes, that long can keepe them safe:
The Fates haue found a way, whereby ere long
The proude must leaue their hope, the meeke their feare.
Who ere receau'd such fauor from aboue,
That could assure one day vnto himselfe?
Him, whom the Morning found both stout and strong,
The Euening left all groueling on the ground.
This breath and heate wherewith mans life is fedde
Is but a flash, or flame, that shines a while,
And once extinct, is as it ne'r had bene.
Corruption hourely frets the bodies frame,
Youth tends to age, and age to death by kinde.
Short is the race, prefixed is the end,
Swift is the tyme, wherein mans life doth run.
But by his deedes t'extend renowme and fame,
That onely vertue workes, which neuer fades.
FINIS.
Thomas Hughes.
Sat cytò, si sat benè: vtcun (que):
Quod non dat spes, dat optio.
¶ Heere after followe such speeches as were penned by others, and pronounced in stead of some of the former speeches penned by Thomas Hughes.
A speach penned by William Falbecke gentleman, one of the societie of Grayes-Inne, and pronounced in stead of Gorlois his first speeche penned by Thomas Hughes, and set downe in the first Scene of the first Acte.
ALecto: thou that hast excluded mee
From feeldes Elysyan, where the guiltlesse soules
Avoide the scourge of Radamanthus Ire:
Let it be lawfull, (sith I am remou'd
From blessed Ilands, to this cursed shoare,
This loathed earth where Arthurs table standes,
With Ordur [...] foule of Harpies fierce disteind,)
The fates and [...]den secrets to disclose
Of blacke Coeytus and of Acheron,
The floudes of death the lakes of burning soules.
Where Hellish frogges doe prophecie reuenge:
Where Tartars sprights with carefull heede attende
The dismall summons of Alectoes mouth.
My selfe by precept of Proserpina,
Commaunded was in presence to appeare,
Before the Synode of the damned sprightes.
In fearefull moode I did performe their hest,
And at my entrance in th'inchaunted snakes,
Which wrap themselus about the furies neckes,
Did hisse for ioy: and from the dreadfull benthe
The supreme furie thus assignde her charge.
Gorlois quoth she thou thither must ascend.
Whence through the rancour of malicious foes
Wearyed with woundes thou didst descend to vs.
Make Brytaine now the marke of thy reuenge
On ruthlesse Brytaines and Pendragons race,
Disbursse the treasure of thy Hellish plagues.
Let blood contend with blood, Father with Sonne,
Subiect with Prince, and let confusion raigne.
She therewithall enioynde the duskie cloudes
Which with their darkenesse turnde the earth to Hell,
Conuert to blood and poure downe streames of blood.
Cornewell shall groane, and Arthurs soule shall sigh,
Before the conscience of Gueneuora
The map of hell shall hang and fiendes shall rage [...]
And Gorlois ghost exacting punishment.
[Page]With dreames, with horrors and with deadly traunce
Shall gripe their hearts: the vision of his corse
Shalbe to them, as was the terror vile
Of flaming whippes to Agamemnons sonne.
And when the Trumpet calles them from their rest
Aurora shall with watry cheekes behold
Their slaughtered bodies prostrate to her beames.
And on the banckes of Cambala shall lye
The bones of Arthur and of Arthurs knightes:
Whose fleete is now tryumphing on the seas.
But shall bee welcom'd with a Tragedie.
Thy natiue soyle shalbe thy fatall gulfe
Arthu [...]: thy place of birth thy place of death.
Mordred shalbe the hammer of my hate
To beate the bones of Cornish Lordes to dust.
Ye rauening birdes vnder Celenoes power,
I doe adiure you in Alectoes name.
Follow the sworde of Mordred where he goes.
Follow the sworde of Mordred for your foode.
Aspyring Mordred, thou must also dye.
And on the Altar of Proserpina
Thy vitall blood vnto my Ghost shall fume.
Heauen. Earth. and hell, concurre to'plague the man.
That is the plague of Heauen, Earth, and hell.
Thou bids Alecto: I pursue my charge.
Let thy Cerastae whistle in mine eares,
And let the belles of Pluto ring reuenge.
¶ One other speeche penned by the same gentleman, and pronounced in steade of Gorlois his last speache penned by Thomas Hughes, and set downe in the second Scene of the fift and last Act.
DEath hath his conquest: hell hath had his wish.
Gorlois his vow: Alecto her desire.
Sinne hath his pay: and blood is quit with blood.
Reuenge in Tryumphe beares the strugling hearts.
Now Gorlois pearce the craggie Rockes of hell.
Through chinckes wherof infernall sprites do glaunce,
Returne this answere to the furies courte.
That Cornewell trembles with the thought of warre:
And Tamers flood with drooping pace doth flowe,
[Page]For feare of touching Camballs bloodie streame.
Brytaine remember. write it on thy walles.
Which neyther tyme nor tyrannie may race.
That Rebelles. Traytors and conspirators,
The semenarye of lewde Cat [...]line,
The Bastard Coouie of Italian birdes.
Shall feele the flames of euer flaming fire.
Which are not quenched with a sea of teares.
And since in thee some glorious starre must shine.
When many yeares and ages are expirde
Whose beames shall cleare the mist of miscontent
And make the dampe of Plutoes pit retire.
Gorlois will neuer fray the Brytans more.
For Brytaine then becomes an Angels land▪
Both Diuels and sprites must yeelde to Angels power,
Unto the goddesse of the Angels land.
Uaunt Brytaine vaunt, of her renowmed raigne,
Whose face deterres the hagges of hell from thee:
Whose vertues holde the plagues of heauen from thee,
Whose presence makes the earth fruitfull to thee:
And with foresight of her thrice happie daies,
Brytaine I leaue thee to an endlesse praise.
Besides these speaches there was also penned a Chorus for the first act, and an other for the second act, by Maister Frauncis Flower, which were pronounced accordingly. The dumbe showes were partly deuised by Maister Christopher Yeluerton, Maister Frauncis Bacon, Maister Iohn Lancaster and others, partly by the saide Maister Flower, who with Maister Penroodocke and the said Maister Lancaster directed these proceedings at Court.