_Dagonet._ I’m but the ghost of mine old former self,
Who once a jester, am now but the jest
Of some outrageous fortune. Sleep hath fled,
My meat hath no more taste unto my mouth.
The wine but heavy lees within the cup.
I am so held in love for Vivien,
That I must end this foolish spark o’ life.
My heart leaps up for joy to see her face,
A silly joy, such as a child might have,
Loving some star for plaything, out of reach.
Oh what would I not do to even dare
To press the velvet of her dainty hand!
Back, down, poor foolish dreams! Now I must play
The frothy merriment of a world that’s grey.
(_Sings._)
There may be poison in the cup
But still the foam must cling.
To keep the strong world’s courage up
Poor fools must laugh and sing;
With sobs below and smiles above,
Amasking day by day,
On trampled, bleeding hopes of love.
So whirls the world away!
There may be breaking of the heart
Though merry laughs the eye.
Still we poor fools must act our part,
And laugh, and weep, and die.
Still must we sportive battles wage,
With foam of lightsome breath,
While underneath the currents rage
And wrecks are churned to death.
_Enter_ VIVIEN, DAGONET _starts_.
_Vivien._ Thou growest grewsome, Dagonet; where hast lost thy
mirth?
_Dagonet._ I know not, Vivien, I know not, belike I am a fool
indeed. Poor Dagonet is no more himself.
_Vivien._ Poor Dagonet.
_Dagonet._ Why not call me fool, dost thou pity me?
_Vivien._ Yea, I do.
_Dagonet._ And since when?
_Vivien._ Since I knew that thou wert a man.
_Dagonet._ Dagonet, the fool, a man?
_Vivien._ Yea since I knew as thou couldst love indeed.
_Dagonet._ That I love, Vivien, what knowest thou?
_Vivien._ Yea, that thou hast a heart under thy mask. Yea,
more, for whom thou hast this feeling. Wouldst thou win her
grace?
_Dagonet._ (_Falls on his knees._) Yea, yea, Vivien, for one
look, one smile. Oh Vivien, well thou knowest I am thy slave.
_Vivien._ What would’st thou do for my love?
_Dagonet._ Thou hast my heart bare in thy sight. Write on it
what characters thou likest, for I am thine. I tell thee I am
thy dog, thy slave.
_Vivien._ Not dog, nor slave, but lover. (_Vivien holds out her
hand, Dagonet crawls near and takes it._)
_Dagonet._ Oh Vivien, dost thou mean this?
_Vivien._ Yea, in sooth I will try thy love. Would’st thou win
my love Dagonet?
_Dagonet._ Dost thou mock me?
_Vivien._ Nay. (_Takes a little box from her girdle and opens
it._) Dost see this pill? (_Leans near and whispers in his
ear. Dagonet starts back!_) Nay! nay! not that!
_Vivien._ That or nought!
_Dagonet._ Wouldst thou use me thus?
_Vivien._ Thou art the man who’d win my love! I tell thee so
must all who’d love Vivien.
_Dagonet._ Nay, nay, I must think. This is indeed death, death.
_Vivien._ Yea, death or nought! I thought thou wert a man?
_Dagonet._ For that reason am I now in hell.
_Vivien._ (_Takes his hand._) Dagonet, dost thou love me?
_Dagonet._ Oh God! Yea Vivien, give me the pill, I am not
myself any more. I am thine, I will do it. Vivien, thou wilt
not fail me?
_Vivien._ See that thou dost not fail me, and be sure that thou
doest this well.
_Dagonet._ I will. [_Exit_ VIVIEN
_Dagonet._ At last Dagonet thou hast thy wish, and hast crossed
the barrier that separates comedy from dark tragedy.
Dagonet, now thou art a man!
Thou art pitied! Thou canst win love.
Thou canst snuff the candle out o’ a life.
Dost know thy features any more? And all for love!
(_Sings._)
O Love, that lights this world
Yet leaves us i’ the dark;--
I led thee to my couch,
A grave-cloth was thy sark!
O Love, we would be clothed,
And thou hast left us stark.
Yea, I am on fire. Snow! snow! Would I had snow to cool me.
Fool, thou art no more a fool. Dagonet, thou art a man!
Thou lovest. This must be done. (_Goes out._)
[_Curtain._
ACT III.
SCENE I.--ARTHUR, MORDRED, DAGONET, _and Nobles_.
_Enter the_ QUEEN _in great trouble_.
_Enter_ KNIGHTS _bringing in a dead body and crying Treason!
Treason!_
(_The Queen takes her State._)
_Arthur._ Who would accuse the Queen?
_Sir Mador._ ’Tis I, my Liege.
_Arthur._ What be the substance of thine accusation?
_Sir Mador._ Murder! Sire, murder! most foul and treacherous!
_Other Knights._ Yea, murder, foul and treacherous!
_Arthur._ On whom?
_Sir Mador._ On the body of this knight, my brother, Sir
Patrise, whom thou knowest to have been a courteous knight of
much steadfastness to thee and the Court.
_Arthur._ It is most strange. Relate the circumstances.
_Sir Mador._ ’Twas at the banquet, Sir King, where we all
invited of thy Queen, the Madam Guinevere, who sitteth there,
and after meat, she with much courtesy of seeming, did press
on us to partake of some fruit, the which on partaking of,
my brother, this dead knight, did fall in agony so extreme
and mortal, that his soul went out, and now he lieth as thou
see’st him.
_Other Knights._ Yea, ’tis true, ’tis as he saith, a most foul
and damnable murder.
_Arthur._ (_Turns to the queen._) Madam, what sayest thou to
this accusation?
_Guin._ ’Tis a false foul lie. I am innocent of this deed.
_Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Yea, ’tis true!
_Arthur._ Thou see’st this dead knight here and these
witnesses, as I am King I must see justice, even against
thee. Hast thou no other defence to offer?
_Guin._ Nay, my lord, as I am the Queen, ’tis a most damnable
lie. ’Fore Heaven, I am innocent of this strange murder.
_Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Now is my soul in flames!
_Sir Mador._ According to our ancient laws, when a guest dies
in this most suspicious manner, where proof of grievous
intent is present, the accused is condemned to be burnt at
the stake.
_Guin._ Great Heaven!
_Arthur._ ’Tis a foul punishment.
_Sir Mador._ But for a foul crime.
_Other Knights._ Yea, ’tis but justice.
_Arthur._ There is also a trial.
_Mordred._ Yea, Sire, the accused being a woman must have a
knight to prove her innocence by his body on the body of the
accuser ere the time of death be accomplished.
_Arthur._ Then be it so. The law must follow on the weight of
these many witnesses. (_Turning to the Queen._) Guinevere,
Queen of Britain, I believe thee guiltless of the crime
whereof thou art accused, as thou hast said. As King I am
not free to prove thine innocence with my body, but as the
King, unless thou procurest a knight to assoil thee ere the
time appointed, I here condemn thee to be taken hence to a
place of public note and there be burnt to death, as the law
requireth.
_Guin._ Oh Great Heaven! (_Falls in a swoon._)
_Arthur._ Sir knight, art thou satisfied?
_Sir Mador._ Yea, on my body.
_Arthur._ Then clear the Court. [_Exit_ Knights.
Madam, this is the heaviest hour of all my life.
_Guin._ (_Supported by her ladies._) Yea, my lord, thou wilt
save me?
_Arthur._ That I will, in all justice. Ho, there, without!
_Enter a_ Page.
Bring me Sir Hake on the instant. (_Enter_ SIR HAKE.)
_Arthur._ I command that this stern sentence on the body of
the noble Queen be proclaimed widely, and that messengers be
sent, on pain of death, to find Sir Gwaine and Sir Launcelot,
that if they be not procured here within the present month,
that the messengers pay the penalty with their bodies.
_Sir Hake._ Yea Sire, it will be done. [_Exit._
_Arthur._ And thou, my Queen, retire to your apartments, I will
come shortly to you. Keep up thy heart, as thou art innocent
so will Heaven help thee.
_Guin._ Yea, my Lord, thou wilt save me, as I am innocent.
[_Exit_ GUINEVERE _and her_ ladies.
_Arthur._ Ho, Page, bring wine, (_aside_) I would forget my sorrow.
Bring wine! I say, and send hither my fool! [_Exit_ Page.
_Enter_ DAGONET.
_Arthur._ Fool, I would forget my heaviness. Make me merry.
_Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Oh God! (_To the King._) Yea, Sire, what
would’st thou have?
_Arthur._ Some music.
_Dagonet._ Yea, Sire. (_Sings._)
Blue is the summer morning’s sky,
And birds are glad and merry.
And Anna’s eyes are sweet and sly,
Her cheeks like any cherry;--
Her lips like dewy rosebuds are
Upon the gladsome morning.
She is my love, my heart’s glad star,
In spite of all her scorning.
So fill the cup of gladness up
And drink to youth and morning.
Let sadness go with evening sup,
I’m hers for all her scorning.
_Arthur._ Would I had thy merry heart, Fool.
_Dagonet._ Yea, Sire!
SCENE II.--LAUNCELOT _discovered seated almost naked amid
swineherds_.
(LAUNCELOT _sings_.)
Once there was a castle hall,
Fair, fair to see,
Armored dight, and splendored all,
Filled with shout o’ revelry.
Came the hosts o’ fate and rage
Thundered on its walls amain.
Sunken now like ruined age,
Never laughs its light again.
I loved a Queen and she loved me.
Aye, that were long ago!
Come now wrack, come now woe,
Strike now lightning, beat now snow!
Memory, I’ll ha’ none o thee!
Ha! ha! Cowards, who’ll fight? (_Rises_.) Ha! Ha!
_Enter a_ Knight.
_Knight._ Who be this?
_1st Swineherd._ Him be mad though him hurt us not, for us be soft
wi’ him, him tend a’ swine.
_2nd Swineherd._ Him mun fight, but us not answer. Him be o’er
hulk a man twa hanle a staff.
_Laun._ Winds are cold and flowers are dead. All is past, past!
_Knight._ Ho there, who be thou?
_Laun._ ’Tis an old world, an old, old world. I tell thee truth,
I loved a Queen, but that be long past.
_Knight._ His wits be dull.--Who art thou fellow?
_Laun._ It hath been never Summer this many a year. Can’st tell
me why?
_Knight._ ’Tis Summer now, thou Fool!
_Laun._ Nay nay, ’tis but Winter. I loved a Queen----
_Knight._ Oh, damn thy Queen! who art thou?
_Laun._ Yea, damn all Queens, I am with thee, Friend,--wilt thou
fight?
_Knight._ Not with thee.
_Laun._ Damn thee! thou wilt!
_Knight._ I tell thee I won’t.
_Laun._ Then damn thee! take that! (_Knocks him down._)
_Knight._ Oh! oh! I am murdered!
_Laun._ More! more!
_Enter_ GWAINE.
_Gwaine._ Ha, at last, it seemeth!
_1st Swineherd._ Have care, Master! Him be dread.
_Gwaine._ How long hath he been like this?
_2nd Swineherd._ ’Tis some time agone. At first him did tear the
earth
An’ bite hisself, but him be better now.
_Laun._ I chased the moon the silly moon,
Ahind a willard tree.
I knocked the stars like nine-pins down,
One, two, three.
I loved a Queen. Ha! ha! ’tis Winter.
_Gwaine._ And this be he, the best o’ Arthur’s Court,
A ragged ninny, mouthing wanton froth,
The sport o’ pig-folk, this be love’s good work,
Oh Love! thou hast much to answer!
_1st Swineherd._ Him want allus twa foight.
_Gwaine._ Yea, he spoileth for a bout, ’tis often a right cure.
I will try it, God give it may bring him round.
(_To_ LAUNCELOT.) Ho there, Fellow!
_Laun._ Ho thyself, Windbag. Thou hast a fine voice, Friend.
Can’st thou call back memory?
_Gwaine._ Yea I can.
_Laun._ Can’st thou find Spring time? I loved, I loved,--
_Gwaine._ Oh damn love--dost thou know me?
_Laun._ Know thee? know thee? I know thou art a man. Wilt thou
fight, Friend?
_Gwaine._ With a merry good will.
_Laun._ Then lets to ’t.
_Gwaine._ (_Takes a quarter staff, they fight hard and long._)
GWAINE _belabors_ LAUNCELOT _on the head, back and shoulders_.
_Laun._ Ha, it raineth thoughts now. Come on Hell, come on.
_Gwaine._ Yea, am I coming, (_Hits him harder._) If I beat that
damned love out o’ him I will do him a good deed. How’s that
and that?
_Laun._ And that, and that. (_Both fight till exhausted._)
_Gwaine._ Launcelot, dost know thyself now?
_Laun._ Methinks I partly do, under a cloud.
_Gwaine._ And dost thou know me?
_Laun._ Methinks thou art the moon.
_Gwaine._ Damn, this love! If I be the moon thou shalt find me
no honeymoon. (_Hits him again, they fight fiercer._)
_Laun._ Come on, thou art welcome. Oh!
_Gwaine._ Well, dost thou know me yet?
_Laun._ Methinks thou art one named Gwaine. Oh my bones!
_Gwaine._ Be this Winter?
_Laun._ I be warm now.
_Gwaine._ An dost thou love a Queen?
_Laun._ What mean’st thou?
_Gwaine._ I would rid thee of this damned love.
_Laun._ Then wouldst thou rid me of this life. Gwaine, thou art
a noble soul, but thou can’st not do that.
_Gwaine._ Art thou thyself now?
_Laun._ Methinks I am--Yea I have been mad.
_Gwaine._ Yea and I have cured thee. Come, this be no place.
Let us go.
[_Exit both._
SCENE III.--_Another part of the forest._--LAUNCELOT and GWAINE.
_Gwaine._ Launcelot, thou art a fool. Thou art the King’s man,
and the best. Thou hast an arm and a sword on it. Thou must
come. I will no longer here.
_Laun._ I may not, this hurt be too deep.
_Gwaine._ Damn thy hurt, man! thou art sound as I.
_Laun._ ’Tis a deep hurt, Launcelot fights no more. Here will I
die.
_Gwaine._ Better go a Monk, thou art a fool, Man. This love is
a girl’s folly. Fighting is a man’s trade and his sword his
true mistress. Gwaine will have no other. Come, thou art not
dead yet.
_Laun._ Aye Gwaine thou wastest words, Launcelot is ended.
_Gwaine._ Damn thee! I gave my word I would bring thee, will I
have to go foresworn else carry thee on my back. Have I cured
thy madness but for this?
_Laun._ Nay, nay, make peace best thou canst. Thou art a good
fellow, but I cannot. Launcelot will die here.
_Gwaine._ I say, damn thee, thou shalt come!
_Laun._ Thou liest! (_Both spring to their feet and draw._)
(_Trumpets without._) (_Enter the_ KING’S Messengers.)
_Gwaine._ Who comes?
_Mess._ From the King.
_Gwaine._ What want ye?
_Mess._ We seek two knights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Gwaine.
_Gwaine._ We be thy men--what be thy message?
_Mess._ The King desireth thee in great haste, the Queen be in
great peril.
_Laun._ Nay!
_Mess._ Yea, of her life. She be condemned to the stake if a
knight assoil her not with his body on her accuser tomorrow
noon.
_Laun._ Dread Heaven!
_Gwaine._ What be the accusation?
_Mess._ Murder on the body of Sir Patrise.
_Laun._ Enough! hast thou brought horses?
_Mess._ Yea.
_Laun._ Then quick! on your lives! lead us hence!
[_Exit_ LAUNCELOT and Messengers.
_Gwaine._ The foul fiend take this love! It be a queer sickness
indeed. Anon it made him like to luke water, and now he be
all fire. It bloweth now up now down, like the wind i’ a
chimney. Yea I love that man like a father his child. There
is no sword like to his i’ the whole kingdom. An’ a wench
that be a queen leadeth him like a goss-hawk. (_Voices
without._)
Yea, I am coming. [_Exit._
SCENE IV.--(_Enter_ Court-ushers _with trumpets_, Soldiers _and
_Knights. _Enter the_ KING: _takes his State. Enter the_ QUEEN _in
a black robe surrounded by her_ Women, _comes to the foot of the
Throne, falls on her face_.)
_Guin._ Arthur, thou wilt save me?
_Arthur._ My Queen, as the king I may not. My heart is hell.
Put thy trust in Heaven.
_Guin._ ’Tis a dread death.
_Arthur._ Madam, could Arthur save thee he would. If thou diest
so doth my joy in this world--keep thy heart.
_Guin._ ’Fore God, I am innocent.
_Arthur._ Thou must trust to Heaven.
_Guin._ That I do. (_Rises and takes her state._)
_Court Chamberlain._ Guinevere, Queen of Britain, of this dread
crime whereof thou art accused what hast thou to say?
_Guin._ (_Rises._) That I Guinevere, Queen of Britain, am
innocent of this most foul charge of which I am here accused,
and here call on Heaven to prove on the body of that foul
knight mine accuser.
Marshalls _enter and trumpets are blown_.
_Court-Chamberlain._ Doth no knight assoil the Queen?
_Guin._ Heaven help me!
_Arthur._ Do no knights approach?
_Page._ Nay, Sire.
_Arthur._ Then has the hour of my life’s sorrow come.
_Enter_ SIR MADOR _doffs to the_ KING.
_Sir Mador._ Sire, the time hath almost passed and I demand a
knight to do no battle, or that the Queen be burnt.
_Guin._ (_Aside._) Merciful Heaven!
_Arthur._ (_To the_ Page.) Do none come?
_Page._ Nay, Sire.
_Dagonet._ Were I not bound to Vivien body and soul, I would
state the truth. Nay I am accursed. There is but one way.
(_Staggers to the front of the throne the throng presses back
in wonder._)
_Dagonet._ (_Kneels._) Sire!
_Arthur._ (_In voice of thunder._) Well fool?
_Dagonet._ Didst thou not once make me a knight?
_Arthur._ Yea, in a moment of jest.
_Dagonet._ Then would I take this gage!
_Guin._ Nay, nay, death, death, but not this insult!
What base knight of this court hath prompted this?
_Dagonet._ None, none my Lady, ’tis my wish.
_Arthur._ Take him out! Now is Arthur shamed!
Knights _hurry_ DAGONET _out_.
_Dagonet._ (_Aside._) Now is Hell indeed my portion.
_Guin._ Sire, I would now die.
_Arthur._ Yea, my Queen, so would Arthur.
_Sir Mador._ Sire, the time be up. And, I, as the accuser, now
ask that thou, as King, wilt command that Guinevere, Queen of
Britain, who standeth there, be taken from hence and burnt
till she be dead.
_A commotion without_, LAUNCELOT _rushes in draws and faces_ SIR MADOR.
_Laun._ And I say, nay!
[_Curtain._
SCENE V.--_Enter_ MORDRED.
_Mordred._ Now cursed be the womb that gave me birth!
Thrice cursed be the paps that gave me suck!
That I but made for hellish plots and hates,
And inky thoughts and moods and black despairs,
The most unhappy man in this dread world,
Should house in me a dream of womanhood
Such as doth dwell in all the milk-white glory
And glamored stateliness of Arthur’s Queen.
Yea would I now forego all I hold dear
In this life and the next, if such there be,
My chance of Heaven thrust to darkest Hell,
One hour like Launcelot to know her love.
Hell! Hell! I laugh at Hell, such flames I burn
Would scorch the northern ice-seas in their beds.
So deep a hell I hold me in my thoughts
Of madness for her love.--Yea I am turned
A very subtle Satan that will plot
High Arthur’s downfall, Launcelot’s banishment,
And all the ruin of this present kingdom.
Yea, I will be a King and perch a crown
In its unsteady poisings on this brow,
So that by very glamor of my power
And inner majesty of mine iron soul,
I build in her a fancy for my person.
For I am Mordred, in this hour I’m great
In subtle cunning far beyond these days
Of mere brute strength and stature physical.--
Yea I was born upon an evil time
Of evil parentage of sin and shame
Thrice cursed in the inner soul and form,
What sportive fate gave me the gifts I bear?
But I am willed to use them to my use.
Yea I will use all deviltries and lies,
All plots and counter-plots to gain mine end.
This misbegotten now doth hold the key
To this doomed kingdom.
_Enter_ VIVIEN.
We are well met. Thou art upon the hour.
The plot grows closer to our waited end.
The net is weaving closer mesh by mesh
That traps the leopard and the lioness.
I have by long connivance, secret planned,
Built round me many knights who hold my weal,
Jealous of Launcelot and Arthur’s glory.
These will be with me when the stroke comes down.
A thousand swords will leap their scabbard mouths
At shout of Mordred! Yea a thousand throats
Will cry me King when my fate topples Arthur.
_Vivien._ Now art thyself, this be thy natural mood.
Yea Mordred when thou kingest it, there will be
A splendid thraldom to true kingliness.
For thou wilt sink a terror in men’s hearts
Of King’s prerogatives will make them fear
The very sound and rumor of thy name.
And there will go before thee waves of will
Presaging thunders of thy royal coming.
But wilt thou then, my Lord, remember Vivien,
When thou dost come unto thy royalty,
Her who did place thy footsteps in the way
That led thee to these gateways of success,
And bade thee trample on thy youthful fears,
And doubts and milksop fancies of the mind,
And gave into thy hand an iron mace,
And bade thee use it? Wilt thou think on her,
The only one who loved thee for thyself,
The single soul that knew thee in the dark,
And loved thee for thy nobler qualities?
_Mordred._ What wouldst thou have me promise?
_Vivien._ I would be a Queen!
_Mordred._ Ha! thou climbest high!
Be careful or thy stairway
In toppling over carry thee to Hell. (_Aside._)
This be her trend I must match cunning with cunning,
And tie this serpent in her venomed coils.
Were she a man, I would admire her much,
But not as woman! She be Mordred’s Queen,
When Queen of women there be one Guinevere!
(_To_ VIVIEN) When I am King thou wouldst then be the Queen?
’Tis a daring thought!
_Vivien._ Not more than that thou bearest,
That Mordred, squat and monster, lorn, despised,
Misgotten, friendless save to such as me,
Should rise in dreams to heights of Arthur’s glory,
And even lust to bed with Guinevere.
_Mordred._ What now? Thou devil!
_Vivien._ Ha! Now I stabbed thy longings to the quick,
And probed thine ink-heart.--Thou dost love the Queen,
Thou, who doth dwell so far below her scorn!
_Mordred._ Witch-hag or Devil! Wert thou but a man,
And I would quickly send thee to that hell
Where thou belongest.
_Vivien._ Nay, I fear thee not.
I am too much a part of all thy plans
For thee to quarrel with. Stab me and thou stabbest
The life of all thy longings. Let my blood,
And with it flows the making of thy dreams.
Mordred. (_Aside._) ’Tis as she says. She’s woven in my web
And I must keep her, devil though she be.
Yea, Mordred! Mordred! (_To_ VIVIEN.)
Vivien thou art hasty,
In dreaming Mordred would do thee an evil.
’Twas but the sudden mantling of the blood.
Yea, I indeed do owe thee overmuch,
And Mordred will pay thee with what gratitude
Of words and acts as such as he possesses.
Yea, when my mind dwells on the what I was,
And that which I now am, an admiration
Sudden and great, comes o’er me at the change,
And the swift transformation thou hast made.
Thou took’st a youth from out his sickly longings,
Vague undefined with musings on this world,
And sick with evil of a shadowed fate,
Dried up his kindness, showed him he was iron,
And gave the keys of cruelty to his hand
Wherewith to pick the lock of this poor kingdom.
Yea, I am wrapt in admiration vast.
Then I would shudder did an evil thought,
Wandering vaguely through my caverned mind,
But stop and grin me. Now it seems mine act
Would neck and neck with Hell’s most foul desire.
Yea, thou hast right in pride of workmanship
In building from material thou hadst
So deft a moulded villain to thy hand.
Yea, Vivien, fear not Mordred will forget,
When every waking moment on his bed,
And every devil knocking on his sill,
Mindeth him of cause for gratitude.
_Vivien._ Wilt thou promise?
_Mordred._ Nay, I will never promise!
What right have I for pledges in this world,
Save pledge that I will topple all to ruin.
This give I Fate, as sure as I am Mordred.
I tell thee, Woman, I am thy slave no more,
Nor slave to any, be it man or devil.
_Vivien._ What art thou then?
_Mordred._ I am thy master. Thou wilt be my slave,
Thou cunning plotter, schemer to my hand,
To be my dagger, poison, flaming brand,
My very slave, convenience, creature, tool;
And if thou art not, I’ll trample, trample thee.
I tell thee I will thrust this kingship out;
Will spin these actors round my crooked thumb,
Until this devil Mordred walketh king.
Little didst thou dream, what demon thou wert raising,
When thou didst conjure Mordred.
_Vivien._ Darest thou me?
_Mordred._ Yea, look into my glass and ask thyself,
What Mordred hath in life to hope or fear?
But I do tell thee, Woman, Mordred in hell
Will be no tortured creature spinning round,
But himself the very devil.
To show my power of evilment, I tell thee,
I know thy fatal liking for myself.
’Tis the one part of thee that now can suffer,
The only part of thee that holdeth good.
_Vivien._ Nay, I will not hearken.
_Mordred_ (_Seizes her wrist._) I’ll bind thee on the rack as thou
hast me,
Or rather finding me there, stretched my sorrows,
And show thee all the devil thou hast roused.
Then hear me, I do scorn that love of thine;
Do trample on, despise, as I do thee!
_Vivien._ (_Falls on her face._) Nay Mordred, thou breakest my
heart,
Nay, curse me not.
_Mordred._ Yea, ask the rack for mercy when it racks,
Or seek for honey in the aspick’s sting!
Yea, more, I tell thee plainly to thy face,
Guinevere makes hell within my breast,
And thou, my slave, wilt help me to her arms.
_Vivien._ One little smile, one little word of peace.
_Mordred._ Nay, silence, or a curse! Wilt thou do this?
_Vivien._ Thou knowest I will, let me but touch thy hand!
Trampled on, despised, I love thee still.
_Mordred._ Now to the point, Launcelot goes this night
To secret assignation with the Queen,
This saving of her life hath patched their quarrel,
And thou must find for me the hour of meeting,
Must intercept the trusted messenger,
And bring me secret knowledge of the time.
I go now with some knights unto the King,
To force his leave for this our undertaking,
And put their secret love to open shame.
Thou must watch near the apartments of the Queen,
And take by fraud or force knowledge of the hour,
And bring it to my ears with thy best speed.
_Vivien._ Yea, I will. [_Exit_ MORDRED.
He hath read true, I am his slave at last,
Aye, what a splendid devil he doth make,
There is no man like him in all this world.
I’ll see him crowned, climb he there o’er my body.
[_Curtain._
SCENE VI.--_An audience room in the Castle. Enter_ MORDRED, SIR
AGRAVAINE _and other_ Knights.
_Mordred._ ’Tis a delicate business we be come upon,
Though one of grave importance, therefore I
Will stand i’ the background, thou Sir Agravaine,
Being a kinsman not o’ the sinister side,
May speak the plainer. Let it fall on me.
Yea, I will answer with my body here.
_Sir Ag._ Yea, I will put it plainly to the King,
And show the evil placed upon our house,
And that foul insult tendered King and kingdom,
By overbearing Launcelot and the Queen.
_Other Knights._ Yea, we are with you.
_Enter a_ Page.
_Sir Ag._ We would see the King.
_Exit_ Page, _enter_ ARTHUR.
_Arthur._ What means this sudden assembling of knights
At this strange hour?
_Sir Ag._ We would bring a matter to thy hearing, King,
Of grave import unto thyself and us
Of thine own household, who’d uphold thy pride.
Yea, one affecting the dignity of this land.
_Arthur._ What be this matter?
_Sir Ag._ The matter is one which toucheth thine own honor,
And hath to do with Launcelot and the Queen.
_Arthur._ Dost thou insult thy King? (_Draws._)
_Sir Ag._ Nay, thou dost insult thyself and us,
Doth thou not listen!
_Other Knights._ Yea, King, ’tis true.
_Arthur._ ’Tis treason, damnable treason ’gainst my Queen,
’Gainst myself and ’gainst this noble kingdom.
_Sir Ag._ Wilt thou hear me, King?
_Other Knights._ Yea, hear him.
_Arthur._ Then I will hear thee further, but ’tis plain,
You prove this on your bodies to the death.
If this strange lie be not as true as Heaven,
Each man who thinks this damnéd treason dies!
_Knights._ ’Tis just King, we will prove it on our bodies.
_Sir Ag._ We think, Lord Arthur, thou art over-blind
To certain things that compromise thine honor,
And some of us have reason to suspect
Sir Launcelot holdeth commerce with the Queen.
_Arthur._ Stop! Catiff!
_Sir Ag._ Wilt thou not hear it?
_Arthur._ Have ye forgotten that my name is Arthur?
Or is this nobleness a vanished dream?
’Tis damnable!
_Sir Ag._ We would prove this same upon our bodies,
By taking of them in the very act.
_Arthur._ No more! by heaven, no more! I say, no more!
Or by my crown, I’ll cleave thy catiff tongue,
And spatter thine evil brains on yonder pavement,
That dared impeach my royalty of such dis-honor.
_Sir Ag._ Nay, King, we will die for the truth of this matter.
_Knights._ Yea, Lord Arthur, we are so prepared.
_Arthur._ Nay, ye are mad, blind, besotted mad.
_Sir Ag._ Nay, King, here is Sir Mordred who will show
The truth whereof we speak. [MORDRED _comes forward_.
_Arthur._ Ha! And it is thou that art at the bottom o’ this
matter!
_Mordred._ Sire, I would but do my duty to this kingdom,
And to the honor of your kingly place.
Sir Agravaine is over-blunt in speech,
And speaketh sudden on a cruel matter;
Yet he hath but the right in this grave question,
Nor doth dishonor thee in this respect
More than do any of these royal knights,
But rather would show wherein thine honor lieth.
If dishonor lies therein, it doth not lie
On them who’d prove the evilment suspected,
But rather on those who by their treasonable act
Hath brought this shame upon us. It would seem
That thou dost love Sir Launcelot even more
Than the unsullied honor of thy Queen.
_Arthur._ Nay! Speak no more! Thou hast insulted Arthur.
If but one thousandth part of this be true,
Then is great Arthur’s glory brought to ground.
_Mordred._ Sire!
_Arthur._ No more of words! What wouldst thou have me do?
_Mordred._ Sire, we would that thou give the opportunity
To prove the cruel substance of our coming
By taking the doers in the very act,
And trapping Launcelot in the Queen’s apartment.
_Arthur._ Go on! Death! Speak on! Accursed me!
_Mordred._ If thou wilt go abroad this coming night,
And advertise thy going, and grant to us
Sufficient knights to make the matter proof,
We will fulfil this matter with our lives.
_Knights._ We will.
_Arthur._ And it hath come to this!
_Mordred._ Sire, wilt thou grant this?
_Arthur._ Yea, I will grant it, but by Arthur’s honor,
The knight returning from such vile ambushment
Without full proof unto the open world
Of that which spills the sea of Arthur’s glory,
Shall die the foulest death this kingdom lends!
On this condition only do you go.
_Mordred._ Yea, we accept the conditions.
_Knights._ Yea, we do. [_Curtain._
SCENE VII.--_A passage near the Queen’s apartments._
_Enter_ VIVIEN.
_Vivien._ Now slave but do the bidding of thy master,
And soon the boding hour will draw anigh
When Guinevere will queen a royal hunch-back.
Now serve me well my wits until I play
The issue of this matter to my mind.
[_Retires into an alcove._
_Enter_ UNID _the_ QUEEN’S Maid, _with a ring_.
Now drat that page! What can the matter be?
This ring must go but who will be the bearer,
It bothereth me to discover?
[_Passes out on left._
_Enter_ DAGONET _on right_.
_Dagonet._ O me! me! me! that ever I did that deed.
(_To spirit._) Nay! nay! Spirit, come not here!
Hide, hide that woeful face. Sleep, sleep
Quiet ’i the grave! Dagonet meant it not.
Ha! ha! I’ll laugh and be merry. ’Tis but my wits.
I’ll think on Vivien.--Nay, nay, not that face!
I slew thee not. Away! away!
’Tis but a fancy, but it lifts the hair
In frosty bristles, makes the eyeballs stare,
And turns me to a horror. Away! Away!
_Re-enter_ Maid.
What play is now, Sir Fool, that thy wit playeth?
_Dagonet._ Oh! ’tis thou!
_Unid._ ’Tis said that thou art looking at the Queen,
And wouldst oust Sir Launcelot. Thou art a bold fool.
_Dagonet._ Nay, nay, ’tis thou sweet Unid rendeth my heart.
_Unid._ Now art thou a kind fool.
_Dagonet._ Is the Queen within?
_Unid._ She sleepeth.
_Dagonet._ I will sing thee a song. (_Sings._)
It rose upon the month o’ May,
When woods were filled with laughter,
Came Margery tripping up the way,
And Jock a stealing after.
(_To spirit._) Away! away!
It rose in Autumn’s afternoon
When love was dead and laughter,
That Jock went striding ’neath the moon,
And Margery pining after.
(_To spirit._) Away! I say, away!
_Unid._ Well acted, Fool, and well sung.
_Dagonet._ Yea, it is a part of me.
_Unid._ (_Aside_) He will do. (_To_ DAGONET) Fool, wilt thou
deliver a message for me?
_Dagonet._ Yea, by my love.
_Unid._ It be a pressing business, and a private one.
[_Speaks in a low voice._
Thou seest this ring. It is the Queen’s. Thou needs must find
Sir Launcelot, and deliver it to him privately and say! “This
night afore midnight.”
_Dagonet._ What doth it mean?
_Unid._ It meaneth, do thy part, and shut thy ears and mouth,
and put a padlock on thine inward thoughts. Wilt thou do it?
_Dagonet._ Yea that I will, ’tis for the Queen, (_to spirit_)
Away! away! Haunt me not!
_Unid._ What aileth thee?
_Dagonet._ Did I speak?
_Unid._ Thou spokest as to someone.
_Dagonet._ ’Tis but an infirmity.
_Unid._ ’Tis a queer one. Thou wilt be speedy and private?
_Dagonet._ That I will. Not one kiss?
_Unid._ Away! away! Haunt me not.
[_Exit._
[VIVIEN _comes from the alcove_.
_Vivien._ Ha! thou false lover!
[DAGONET _drops the ring_.
_Dagonet._ ’Tis thou!
_Vivien._ Caught in the act, soft words and lovers songs,
And rings exchanged, and even kisses proffered. Thou
Double-Dealer! Thou wouldst seek my love?
_Dagonet._ I tell thee thou art wrong. ’Tis the appearances are
at fault.
_Vivien._ Thou liest! Didst thou not offer to buss her?
_Dagonet._ ’Twas but a sally to cover mine inward thoughts.
_Vivien._ Thou liest again. What were those low words she
spake, when she took thy hand?
_Dagonet._ ’Twas but a message she gave me on a private matter.
_Vivien._ Oh! oh! very private! Dagonet, very private!
_Dagonet._ I cannot tell thee of its import.
_Vivien._ Nay, thou canst not, for thou liest.
_Dagonet._ I tell thee, Vivien, thou wilt madden me.
I tell thee, I love thee only, and thou knowest it.
_Vivien._ What was the substance of that message?
_Dagonet._ If thou must have it, and thou draggest my heart
out, it was from the Queen. The words, “tonight afore
midnight.”
_Vivien._ A true story! To thee?
_Dagonet._ Nay, to Sir Launcelot.
_Vivien._ Thou liest! Canst thou explain that ring she gave
thee? (_Picks it up._)
_Dagonet._ ’Tis the Queen’s.
_Vivien._ Ho! ho! And thou the trusted messenger! ’Tis a likely
story. Wouldst have me believe it?
_Dagonet._ Vivien, I tell thee that I love thee, and am in Hell
for thee, aye, in Hell!
_Vivien._ Thou forgettest thine important message, thou most
trusted lover and messenger.
_Dagonet._ Vivien, wilt thou not believe me?
_Vivien._ Go, go, I tell thee, I will see thee again.
[_Exit_ DAGONET.
_Vivien._ Now cometh the hour when my revenge approacheth,
Now winds my web about doomed Camelot,
An angered fate hangs o’er these castle walls.
There will be bloody deeds abroad tonight.
Rise Spirits of old vengence and affright!
Vivien conquereth. Wait! wait! [_Curtain._
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--(_Rise outer curtain._) _Passage near the_ QUEEN’S
_apartments. Enter_ DAGONET.
_Dagonet._ ’Tis little I can do, but I will mend
The devilment that I have helped to cause.
Hark, now they come! Here will I take my stand.
’Tis over my dead body when they come,
That they’ll come at her. Ho! stand without!
(_Sounds heard without. Enter_ MORDRED, SIR AGRAVAINE _and other_
Knights _with torches and naked swords_. DAGONET _draws_.)
Where go you, Masters?
_Mordred._ We go this road, ’ware how you stop our way.
_Dagonet._ The man who goes this road goes o’er my body.
_Sir Ag._ Louse! take that! (_Stabs_ DAGONET, _he falls_.)
_Mordred._ ’Tis the King’s jester.
_Dagonet._ You have leeched my folly. Now is the jest ended.
Vivien! (_Dies._)
_A Knight._ He was a man after all.
_Mordred._ Onward Knights to better game than this,
Though little we know the tragedy that ended
When yon poor light went out! Come this way!
[_Exit all._
(_Rise inner curtain._) _The_ QUEEN’S _apartment_, LAUNCELOT _and_
GUINEVERE.
_Laun._ I come this night to bid you a long farewell,
Before I leave this kingdom’s shores for ever.
This love doth hold me in a demon’s grasp,
And my heart breaks to feel great Arthur’s love,
And all the time we twain be meeting thus.
_Guin._ Nay, nay Launcelot, leave me not forlorn,
I cannot live without thee. Thy strong arms,
And thy warm kisses are to me the one
Fair garden springing on this drearsome earth.
_Laun._ Lady I must go. My lands in France,
Tribute to my sword, I’ll make a kingdom.
And pass my days in memories of thee.
_Guin._ Nay, nay thou wilt not go, and if thou must,
My heart will bleed for thee until my death.
_Unid._ (_Hurrying in._) Madam, there is treason without.
Many arméd knights do come this way.
_Laun._ Now is the end come I have long expected,
The grim fatality of all my fears,
The nightmare real at last. Quick! my Sweet!
Kiss me your latest now. This is my death!
_Guin._ Launcelot, save, save thyself,
I will bar them with my body here.
They will but trample a dead, dishonored Queen,
Whom brute fatality made its passing sport.
Quick! that way!
_Laun._ Nay, nay, sweet Love, but I will die with thee.
And show great love can make a greater death.
(_Draws._) Would to God I had mine armour.
(_Loud knocking heard at the door and the voice of_ MORDRED _heard
without_.)
Come out thou traitor Launcelot and show the world
The face of him who hath dishonored Arthur.
Come out thou Traitor.
_Guin._ Launcelot save thyself, there is time yet.
_Laun._ Nay, Love, I’ll end me here, if be my fate.
Ho! Cowards without! I am a single man,
Devoid of armour having but my sword,
Yet will I open and give you Hell’s glad welcome.
(_Unbars the door_, SIR AGRAVAINE _rushes in._)
_Laun._ Die Hound! (_Brains him_.) LAUNCELOT _drags him aside and
bars the door_.
Quick! Help me to this armour! (_Takes the arms from_ SIR
AGRAVAINE’S _body, and arms himself_.)
_Guin._ (_Helping him._) Aye, Love, if prayers are aught, will
mine clothe thee.
(_Voices outside._) Open up! Traitor! open up!
_Guin._ Great God, Great God, help this poor Queen who prays!
(LAUNCELOT _buckles his armour_.)
_Laun._ Now am I ready, fare thee well, sweet Love.
Whatever haps, and we may meet no more,
This side of darkness; carry to thy grave,
That Launcelot loved thee, thee, and only thee.
_Guin._ Oh, Launcelot, my heart breaks. (_They embrace, the_ QUEEN
_faints_.) (LAUNCELOT _to the maids_.) Take her back from this,
protect her, keep her safe.
This work is not for her sweet presence. Now heaven help
The man that meeteth Launcelot’s blade this night!
(_Voices without_.) Coward! Traitor! wilt thou open up?
_Laun._ Yea, Traitors who foreswore the name of knight,
When like some drunken rabble ye polluted
The gentle sacredness of these apartments.
And every man who shamed her ears tonight
(_Throws open the doors_) shall die! die! die! Come on Devils!
(_They rush in and then fall back in surprise._)
_Laun._ Ha! ha! here’s wine that Launcelot’s blade would drink.
Die, Devils! (_Rushes forward hacking fiercely with his
sword, twelve knights fall one after the other._)
_Mordred._ God of Heaven, let us back! This man be mad!
(_Retreats with four knights_, LAUNCELOT _slays the rest_.)
_Laun._ Come on, ye Fiends of Hell! I’ll back me here,
Launcelot is a man of honour!
SCENE II.--SIR LAUNCELOT’S _apartment, midnight. Enter several_
Knights _with torches and swords_.
_Sir Ban._ Hello there! wake up!
_Knights._ Hello! Within! Within! (_Loud knocking heard at the
doors. Enter several other knights. Enter_ SIR LAUNCELOT.)
_Laun._ What means this that ye be armed?
_Sir Ban._ Strange horrors woke us frozen from our beds.
Hideous nightmares beset us. Some heard moanings, some that
grave-bells rang, and others saw strange spectres, and I
myself heard clash of mighty arms, and quick each man found
himself leaped from his bed, naked blade in hand. What may it
portend? We be much affrighted!
_Laun._ ’Tis a true portent. Now the end hath come
Of peace and happiness for this dooméd kingdom.
To-night on private meeting with the Queen,
In her apartments, there was I surrounded,
And hounded traitor, slew so many knights,
There’s scarce one left to tell the King the story.
_Knights._ A most foul and dastard attack! The kingdom is
doomed.
_Enter a_ Messenger.
_Laun._ The Queen! quick! the Queen! what of her?
_Mess._ An order hath come in the King’s name;
She is to be burnt tomorrow noon.
_Laun._ Never! by my blade, she shall not die!
_Knights._ She shall not! she shall not! on our lives!
SCENE III.--_The_ KING’S _lodge in the forest_. ARTHUR _walking
back and forth_.
_Arthur._ Would I had not done this! Heaven this hour
Be kind to this poor king, suspend thy wrath.
For my past frailties judge me not too heavy.
Oh, were it dawning! Nay if it be shame,
Night roll for ever round your shrouding glooms,
Hide Arthur’s woe in your convenient black.
Rise not, O, pitiless Day with searching white,
Showing abroad catastrophe and doom.
Hark ’tis the messenger. Now my royal soul,
Is it black or white, is it death or life to thee?
(_Enter Messenger._) Sire!
_Arthur._ Speak! Is it calamity?
_Mess._ Yea, Sire, it is calamity, Sir Launcelot ta’en,--
_Arthur._ In the Queen’s chamber?
_Mess._ Yea, Sire.
_Arthur._ Then sable Night shut out the morning now.
O, Blackness, bury Arthur in thy shroud!
O, Calamities pelt, pelt your fire!
Sink now, proud Arthur, sink to rise no more.
_Enter_ MORDRED _and two_ KNIGHTS.
_Mordred._ We bring you evil news in sorry haste.
Launcelot ta’en by us in the Queen’s apartments,
When we, hailing him traitor, would bring him out,
Then he mad with a devil did issue forth,
And slay the most of us, so that we are scarce fled with our lives,
As these two knights do witness.
_Knights._ ’Tis true, King.
_Arthur._ Murder and Treason walk abroad this night.
Adultery and Incest leave their graves.
Arthur, Arthur thou art a king no more!
_Mordred._ We would arrest the Queen, did we know thy will.
_Arthur._ O, Night! Night! Night!
_Mordred._ ’Tis not an hour for grief and memories, Sire,
But action, instant action, is the word,
If thou wouldst keep thy kingdom. Sir Launcelot knoweth
That thou wert privy to this heavy matter,
And swearing direst vengeance on us all,
Buildeth a party for to help the Queen,
And oust thee from thy royalty.
_Arthur._ Dost thou not know I loved this Launcelot.
And had I chosen a brother or a son
It had been Launcelot! Oh thou cruel World!
Thou hast no cloud of evils brooding dire,
So much hath rained. Mordred take my crown,
To illegitimacy pass my glory now.
_Mordred._ Nay Sire! but be a king until thou takest
A King’s dread vengeance on thine enemies.
_Arthur._ Enemies thou sayest. Who so low,
To stoop to hate this cuckold, shaméd king.
I am a king no more, my Table Round
Is but a stall-yard where the swine of men
Will rend and snarl and tear my glory down.
_Enter_ GWAINE.
_Gwaine._ This is a bad and foolish matter, King,
And thou wert fool to fetch it to an issue.
But now thou makest bad worse. Didst thou send out
For Launcelot’s arrest and the Queen’s murder?
_Mordred._ The order hath gone out in the King’s name.
’Tis gone too far for compromises now.
_Gwaine._ ’Tis thou hast done all this, thou Plotter!
_Mordred._ Thou liest! ’Tis but the natural end of circumstance
that worked its issue. I tell thee, the King ordered this.
_Gwaine._ King, didst thou give these orders?
_Arthur._ Gwaine thy words were ever over-blunt,
But now they’re fitting. None need show me reverence.
_Gwaine._ Know I not reverence, but I would of facts.
Didst thou proclaim that Guinevere should die
Being found of treason foul against thy person,
And doom her to the stake tomorrow noon?
_Arthur._ The Queen! the queen! thou sayest, I’ll have no queens!
If there be a Queen tomorrow in this land,
She shall die the death! ’tis the King’s word!
_Mordred._ Now thou hast thine answer.
_Gwaine._ Then fear Sir Launcelot’s hate and split this kingdom,
Topple yonder King and bring him down,
As thou wouldst love to. Gwaine will none o’ this.
The Pope shall hear it! What’s a woman worth!
That truth, or untruth, she should wreck a kingdom?
_Enter a_ Messenger _in haste_.
_Mordred._ Speak!
_Mess._ Sir Launcelot and many Knights have rescued the Queen
and have taken her to Joyeous Guarde, and in the quick
struggle Sir Gareth, and Sir Lynnette were slain.
_Arthur._ More woes! More woes! Where will this end?
_Mordred._ (_To_ SIR GWAINE.) Now art thou satisfied?
_Gwaine._ (_To_ MESS.) What! Thou liest! tell me my brothers be
slain?
_Mess._ ’Tis true, Master, mine own eyes saw them dead.
_Gwaine._ Hell! who did the deed?
_Mess._ Sir Launcelot himself. He rode quick i’ the Court And
lighted and hacked without looking at whom he met, to reach
the Queen, whom bearing to horse, he stayed not to see who
were dead or wounded but straight rode away.
_Gwaine._ This world or the next, he will answer me!
Hell! mine own two brothers, and all for a damned wench!
Queen or no, King, thou shalt answer here.
Yea, all shall answer for this damnèd business.
_Mordred._ Yea, I will help thee. ’Twas most unnatural,
Who never harmed him, he should serve them so.
_Gwaine._ Launcelot, Launcelot, now I cast thee out,
One world won’t hold us!
_Mordred._ This works my way. O World, thou art moulding swift
To my poor vengeance!
(_To_ ARTHUR.) Sire what wilt thou do?
_Arthur._ To arms, to arms, we’ll siege him in his hold.
’Tis death that cures dishonor. He will reap
The swift dread harvest of Heaven’s retribution.
_Gwaine._ Would Launcelot were but two men, I’d slay him twice.
’Twould suit my feelings.
[_Curtain._
SCENE IV.--(_Rise outer curtain._) _Court at Camelot._
_Enter two_ Gentlemen.
_1st Gent._ Were I the weaker kind, I’d trickle tears
For this poor kingdom. Hast thou seen the Pope’s bull?
_2nd Gent._ Yea, forbidding the carrying on of this strange war,
And commanding Arthur to take back his Queen,
And give Sir Launcelot passage from the Kingdom.
He be a wondrous Knight, this Launcelot.
’Tis pity this love o’ercame him.
_Both pass out. Enter_ VIVIEN _and_ MORDRED.
_Vivien._ My heart grows hot to bring things to an issue.
_Mordred._ Patience! and thou wilt see the issue come.
Launcelot banished, Arthur follows after,
With blustering Gwaine, both ravening for war.
Arthur will leave me regent, then’s mine hour.
(_Both pass on._) (_Rise inner curtain._) (_Enter_ ARTHUR, _takes
his state_. Knights _and_ Ladies. _Trumpets blow without. Enter_
LAUNCELOT _with the_ QUEEN _draped in black, with her_ Ladies.
LAUNCELOT _leads the_ QUEEN, _who stands_. LAUNCELOT _kneels_.
ARTHUR _averts his face_. LAUNCELOT _speaks_.)
_Laun._ Sire! by order of the Pope of Rome
And your most royal promise, here I bring
Unto your keeping Guinevere the Queen,
And dares one knight within these royal precincts
Impugn her chastity or queenliness,
I meet him with my body.
_Arthur._ Madam, I acknowledge you as Queen.
It is the will of Heaven. I submit.
But loving wife thou art no more to me.
Not Pope nor Prince can white thy black in this.
(GUINEVERE _takes her state_.)
_Guin._ Arthur of Britain, I answer thee, the King,
I am no more thy wife nor ever was,
Nor am I shamed as Queen to own the love
I’ve borne for Launcelot. In the coming world
He will be mine, as I am truly his.
I wronged thee not great Arthur, but ’twas thou
And hellish circumstance have wrecked my days.
’Tis the Queen’s answer, she will speak no more.
_Arthur._ Sir Launcelot Du Lake, arise! (LAUNCELOT _stands_.)
Launcelot Du Lake, thou traitor knight,
Sinner against the honor of this realm,
I banish thee for ever from this kingdom,
On pain of foulest death, dost thou return.
_Laun._ Sire, I accept the issue.
_Mordred._ ’Tis but a gentle majesty that leans
To mercy such as this, were I thy king--
_Gwaine._ Yea, get thee quick. Fast as thou nearest France
We sail the faster. Thou shalt meet with Gwaine,
And pay his brothers’ spirits thou hast slain,
Thou foul lewd traitor!
_Laun._ Lord Arthur, thou hast reason to scorn me now,
And all thine anger stabs mine inward soul;
But now ’tis open I must tell thee true,
I love Queen Guinevere as mine own body,
And her alone will love unto my death,
As to none other. For this woeful love,
I’ll answer to my God who put it there,
And not to man, nor even to thee, proud King.
And yet I say it, yea with breaking heart,
I love thee, King, as doth no other man,
And did no hideous fate come in between
I had been thy Launcelot still.
_Arthur._ (_Aside._) Great God! Now my heart breaketh.
(_To_ LAUNCELOT.) Begone, false Knight. ’Tis enough.
_Laun._ Yea yet a little, Sire, it is the end.
If Gwaine would hearken I would answer him
For his two brothers.
_Gwaine._ Nay, nay I’ll not hearken.
_Laun._ ’Tis ended then, but I would say to thee,
That nothing next to this most heavy matter,
The most dread, sorrowful matter in this poor world,
Hath grieved me so as that I did that deed.
All blinded with my sorrow for the Queen,
I knew not ’twas your brothers that I slew.
_Gwaine._ Nay, nay, blood, blood alone will answer.
_Laun._ (_To the_ QUEEN.)
And thou sad Guinevere, thou Queen of women,
Sweetest of soul and form upon this earth,
I’ll look upon thy beauteous face no more.
Let womanhood blossom the days to come,
There never-more will be one like to thee.
(_Bends and kisses her hand._) (GUINEVERE _goes toward him._)
_Guin._ Launcelot, take me with thee, I am thine.
_Arthur._ And thou the Queen?
_Guin._ I am no Queen of realm save this man’s heart.
And where he treads, that land to me alone
Beloved of the kingdoms of this earth.
Oh! take me Launcelot, my Lord! my King!
_Arthur._ Ladies, the Queen to her apartments!
_Laun._ I would not shame thy kindness, Guinevere.
We were each others ere this world began,
And we together, unshamed yet will go
To meet our God, sweet Love farewell, farewell.
(_Hurries out. The_ QUEEN _borne slowly to her apartments weeping_.)
_Arthur._ Oh, black brute Evil, why was Arthur born?
Now is all loveliness gone out from life.
Yea, I will sink. Nay, I am Arthur still.
The Kingly still, defying Hell and Fate.
To arms! to arms! Red battle is my mood.
_Mordred._ Yea, battle!
_Gwaine._ Yea, blood, for blood! my brothers’ spirits call.
_Arthur._ My heart awakens! Mordred, as my regent,
I leave thee filial keeper of my crown,
My queen and kingdom, while I wed with war,
And bring as issue, yon foul Launcelot’s doom.
Make my forces ready. France! is the word.
_All._ (_Draw swords and shout._) Yea, battle! [_Curtain._
SCENE V.--_A Corridor in the Palace. Enter two_ Gentlemen.
_1st Gent._ Hast heard the news? Mordred’s usurped the kingdom,
hath seized the Queen, and backed by half the realm doth
challenge Arthur to a warm homecoming. ’Tis said he hath
plotted this long time and now hath proved his chances. How
stand you in this most bitter struggle?
_2nd Gent._ I’m for Arthur and now for Dover and France this
coming night.
_1st Gent._ Then I am with you. May we bring these shores
New peace from this usurper when we come. [_Exit both._
_Enter_ VIVIEN _with a dagger_.
_Vivien._ Nay he shall never make her Queen. Nay never!
She shall die first! No Queen but Vivien
Shall royal it while Mordred lifts the crown.
His slave, his creature, yea, in all save this.
I’ll make her beauty wan, I’ll curtain her lights.
Yea she shall Queen in Tartarus this night.
(_Sounds heard without_, VIVIEN _gets behind the tapestry_.)
_Enter_ MORDRED _as_ KING.
_Mordred._ Now have I reached the pinnacle of my revenge
In these uncertain heights of Arthur’s glory.
And even now I sicken of the struggle.
Even now I top a tower of fear.
A thousand swords, would leap at my command,
And swim this land in blood at my one word,
Would at a stronger power but turn and rend me.
The thousand throats that this morn shouted, “Mordred!”
Tomorrow morn may shout as loud for Arthur.
’Tis but a petty thing to be a King,
And strut an hour to crown a people’s will
And make them think they wield a majesty,
And hold a phantom rule; then pass and be
A little dust in a forgotten heap.
Nay, ’tis not worth the blacking of a soul,
The letting of a single human life,
The fouling o’er of youthful memory.
And I am now this self-contemnéd thing,
A man of truest sorrows who descended
From out the pedestal of nobler dreams,
And used the subtle intrigues of this world
To climb this pyramid of human weakness.
And now I hate it as I hate myself
Who stooped to gain it. Yet must Mordred king
This realm with a tyranny that fear
Wields o’er a monarchy that knows not love.
And burn his heart out for a woman’s scorn.
Yea she shall be my Queen if love can win her.
_Enter_ GUINEVERE _as a_ State Prisoner.
_Mordred._ Madam, I would detain you.
_Guin._ Usurper King! what means this bringing of me here?
I deemed the shelter of a sisterhood
Were not denied me.
_Mordred._ Madam, I would to you unfold this matter.
I am not all you think me in your scorn
Though I be born mis-shapen, yet my soul
Hath appetite for beauty like a man’s
That shows the inward in the outward mien.
Madam, I would lay the matter plainly,
I have long been a victim to thy beauties,
And would new-make thee Queen of this old Kingdom.
_Guin._ Never! Were Launcelot or Arthur standing by,
Insulter of thy Queen, thou wouldst die.
Make way! Make way!
_Mordred._ Madam, have compassion on my weakness!
A soul is lodged within this crooked body.
No man hath ever loved as Mordred loves.
_Guin._ Make way! this be hideous.
_Mordred._ Lady, let your own sorrow plead for Mordred’s sorrow.
As thou hast loved Launcelot unhappy,
So he loves thee.
_Guin._ Show thy love by closing this audience quickly.
I am all Launcelot’s in this world and the next,
As Heaven knoweth.
_Mordred._ Then thou wilt not have compassion.
_Guin._ I pity thee, but this may never be.
_Mordred._ Never?
_Guin._ As I am a Queen, never!
_Mordred._ Lady thy pity doth but little help me.
Yet will I show thee Mordred hath a heart.
Know then thou hast killed the spark of Mordred’s hope,
And silenced the music of this world for him,
Yet lady as rightful king of this great land
He grants thee safest passage where thou wilt.
_Guin._ I would go to a Nunnery.
_Mordred._ As thou wilt. Not one word? Not one token?
_Guin._ Prince, thou hast my respect and gratitude
For this thine act.
[_Exit_ GUINEVERE _and her_ train.
VIVIEN _comes forward_.
_Vivien._ Ha! Ha! Ha! King Mordred!
_Mordred._ (_Springs forward and draws._) Fiend! thou diest!
(_He clutches her, they stand confronting each other._) Nay,
nay and thou didst hear all? Nay, I will not kill thee. Thy
punishment hath been more than I could mete thee. I see
sharp agony in thine evil face. Yea, Woman thou hast suffered.
_Vivien._ Oh God! My love! My love! (_Would stab herself._)
_Mordred._ Nay, die not! (_Throws the dagger away._) Thou
deservest thy reward. Mordred will crown this farce and make
thee Queen.
_Vivien._ Me! thy wife?
_Mordred._ Nay, nay, nor mistress even, only Queen.
[_Curtain._
SCENE VI.--France--_A Tent on the Field near_ LAUNCELOT’S _Castle_.
ARTHUR _paces to and fro_.
_Arthur._ I would I were on British soil again
This leaguer goes but feebly. I am sick
Of losing battles to this Launcelot,
Whose strength and prowess in far kinder days,
Was my heart’s pride. Arthur thy star grows dark.
Thou canst not keep the love of woman. Nay,
Men’s friendships turn to traitor on the lips.
Oh, Merlin; couldst thou now but see thine Arthur.
_Enter_ Messenger.
_Arthur._ Well!
_Mess._ Sir Launcelot met Sir Gwaine beneath the wall.
And of all the bloody fights betwixt them two,
Which have enhorrored this ensanguined war,
This was the bloodiest.
_Arthur._ Speak on!
_Mess._ Sir Gwaine be mortal wounded, so it seemeth.
_Arthur._ Nay!
_Mess._ He even fought on after he was down,
Till his blade fell from out his palsied hand.
_Arthur._ This time maketh thrice that he hath been defeated,
And surely this will cool his fiery blood.
He is the strongest hater I have known
In all my royalty. He would as lief go
To Hell, so that his foe might forfeit Heaven.
_Enter_ GWAINE, _borne by_ Squires _and_ Attendants.
_Gwaine._ Let me forth--forth, I say! Hell! catiffs, I be better
now.
I would at him. Oh!
_Attendants._ Sire, if he rest not he will die.
The blood runneth from him in streams
So we cannot quench it, do he not lie still.
_Gwaine._ King, I be a shamed man. Damn this world!
I will shut it out o’ my knowledge. I be in pieces.
_Arthur._ Thou hast had enough, temper thy hates.
And do thy brothers more they lodge in Hell.
I am for England.
_Gwaine._ Nay, King, let me but once more.
_Arthur._ Thou canst scarce utter, thou wilt die.
_Gwaine._ Nay, I will stand his front so long as I may hold a
blade, and shake it at him!
_Enter a_ Messenger _in great haste_.
_Arthur._ Whence come you?
_Mess._ From England. Mordred hath made him King.
_Arthur._ Nay! nay!
_Mess._ ’Tis true, and seized the Queen.
_Arthur._ Great Heaven!
_Mess._ Even now he sitteth robed in thy late state,
And wieldeth puissance.
_Gwaine._ The damned hunchback!
_Arthur._ Oh World, would I were gone! My Queen untrue,
My heart’s best brother traitor, even my son,
Mine ill-got son doth rend me. Who would now
Hold fate with sunken Arthur?
(_To the_ Messenger.) Be there more?
_Mess._ Nay, Sire, I came in haste at the first news,
Though it is said that he would wed the Queen.
_Arthur._ A thousand devils take him!--Nay, not that
Not that most foul completion!
Ho! Sir Hake, Sir Mark. Ho Knights without!
_Enter_ Knights.
_Arthur._ Mordred’s usurped the kingdom. We must haste to
England now. The siege is raised. Yea I will blot him out or
make an end righting mine old glory.
_Gwaine._ (_Borne out._) Now are my chances gone. Gwaine is
disgraced. This is a world of woe. I’ll fight no more. But
one more bout, and my sword might ha’ done it.
[_Curtain._
ACT V.
SCENE I.--(_Rise outer Curtain._) _Enter two_ Soldiers.
_1st Sol._ Ho, without there!
_2nd Sol._ What news?
_1st Sol._ Arthur is back for England with all his forces, and
the King hath sent an army to withstand his landing, and
himself leaveth to-night to follow them.
_2nd Sol._ He be a rare King this Hunchback. He hath a
marvellous power. His Knights be feared of him, but ’tis said
he’s just.
_1st Sol._ He be not lawful got, ’tis said, but none can say
his rule be foul.
_2nd Sol._ ’Tis said that the new Queen be a witch an’ hath
holpen him wi’ her deviltries.
_1st Sol._ God save us if it be true! Yet it is safe to say;
God save the King an’ Queen. ’Tis better to cry a witch Queen
than to be split i’ the gullet.
_2nd Sol._ Yea wi’ plenty ale i’ the pewter and meat o’ the
spit, no matter who queens or kings it, so says I. I’m for
Mordred an’ the Witch.
_1st Sol._ So be I till the next change comes. [_Exit both._
(_Rise inner Curtain._) _Enter_ VIVIEN _as_ QUEEN _with many_ Ladies
_and_ Pages--_takes her state_.
_Enter a_ Knight, _who kneels_.
_Vivien._ What news from France, Sir Bors?
_Knight._ Arthur cometh back, my Lady.
_Vivien._ Nay!
_Knight._ Yea, my Lady, the army be embarked.
_Vivien._ Oh short and bitter!
_Enter_ MORDRED.
_Mordred._ Well, Madam!
_Vivien._ (_To the_ Ladies.) Begone! [_Exit all._
(_To_ MORDRED.) Hast thou heard the news?
_Mordred._ ’Tis as I have long expected. He now cometh back.
_Vivien._ Art thou prepared?
_Mordred._ Yea, if ’tis death thou meanest.
And ’twere better so. Thou art a Queen already!
I had not thought thou wouldst so look the Queen.
_Vivien._ Mordred, would that thou mightst also see
I wear a heart, a woman’s heart, beneath
This queenly mask.
_Mordred._ A heart?
_Vivien._ That beats and breaks for thee.
_Mordred._ I’m not myself, I am a hunchback king,
Who stole his father’s rule by subtlety.
And keepeth it by power of being a devil.
I know not love. Woman, thou art mad!
Art thou not satisfied with what thou art?
I made thee all that woman’s heart might crave.
Revenge, ambition, these all can I grant,
But love, a commodity not in Mordred’s giving.
Use this thy power to surfeit while it lasts,
Tomorrow it will topple. I’m o’er-weary
Of all this sycophancy of creeping men,
Who fear my power and sneer upon my back;
A pageantry of lies where human worms,
Who crawl to-day, tomorrow get a sting
And use it on the hand that ’friended them.
I cannot mould the face to popular form,
And hide the thought behind the outward act.
And make good ill, ill good by royal patent.
Nay, I can scorn, and I can hate,--yea strike,
When rules the mood, yea, I’m a very devil;
But cheat myself and others to what I am,
And be a popular dream, a fancied god,
The victim of a world’s delusiveness,
What manner I am, I were not made for this.
Yea coming struggle I meet thee with a joy
’Twere scarce expected. Madam, I bid farewell.
We worked this masque together, thou and I,
And if it like thee little, blame not Mordred.
I go to-night to meet my Sire in battle.
Such fight will be this kingdom hath not known
In all its sorrows. Britain’s darkest hours
Are blacking on her, I feel I go to death.
I leave some knights to guard thee. If thou desirest
Thou canst withdraw unto some convent close,
Till this blows over.
_Vivien._ Nay, Vivien flees not. She dies first! Woman or Queen
She will be found where dangers threaten thee
And menace thy kingliness, Oh Mordred,
Thou knowest not the woman that I am.
Take me with thee as thy heart’s true slave,
Where thou diest, there would Vivien die,
Or where thou goest, there would she wander too.
_Mordred._ Nay, nay, ’tis vain, I am a man apart.
Thou knowest not the iron I am become.
Mordred needs no shield of kindly help
Other than what unkind nature gave him.
Woman, thou dost unqueen thyself, I tell thee.
Thou wastest thy words on Mordred.
_Vivien._ Oh brute, Oh cruel shape, not natural man,
Hast thou no feeling?
_Mordred._ I go forth to-night.
To wreck my father, stem his tide this way
Unto his rightful kingdom. Speak me love!
Rather tell the lamb skipping the mead,
Go ask the wolf for suckle.
_Vivien._ Nay Mordred, slay me now and thou wilt know
Vivien had blood full warm to flow for thee.
_Mordred._ Woman, I’m all iron and adamant
And yet I pity thee for thou hast hell.
I would not slay thee--rather fare thee well.
[_Exit_ MORDRED.
_Vivien._ Oh God! Mordred! Mordred! Is this all?
And I have moulded him unto this iron
I beat against. It is my punishment!
Oh God! Oh God! Nay, I will go with him,
And die with him if need be. Now my wits!
But how? How? How?
_Enter a_ Page.
_Page._ Madam, the King?
_Vivien._ He hath just left--Stay, dost thou go with him?
_Page._ Yea, Madam.
_Vivien._ Doth see this jewel?
_Page._ Yea Madam, it be wondrous indeed.
_Vivien._ It will be thine--wilt thou stay,
And let another go in thy stead.
_Page._ The King trusteth me.
_Vivien._ ’Tis the will of one who loveth the King far more
than ever thou couldst. ’Tis my will. Thou must stay. Quick,
this way. [_Exit both._
_Re-enter_ MORDRED _with his_ Knights.
_Trumpets without._
_Mordred._ Make haste! Make haste! Where tarrieth this Squire
of mine? We must ride to Dover ere it darkens.
_A Knight._ He cometh now, Sire.
_Enter_ VIVIEN, _disguised as a_ Squire.
_Mordred._ Dost thou keep thy king? thou wert long in coming.
_Vivien._ I came with all speed, Sire.
_Mordred._ Thou seemest over pink and white for this work.
Canst thou fight?
_Vivien._ Yea, Sire, I can use a dagger.
_Mordred._ Then follow--Ho, there without! Now for Mordred’s
doom. [_Curtain._
SCENE II.--_The Kentish Coast. Landing of_ ARTHUR’S _troops opposed
by_ MORDRED. _Battle going on in the distance. Enter_ GWAINE _borne
ashore on a litter. Battle comes near._
_A Soldier._ They come this way, here will we stand and guard
thee. (_They put down the litter._)
_Gwaine._ How goes the fight?
_A Squire._ Desperate hard. The enemy be strong,
As if half England would shove the other i’ the sea.
_Gwaine._ Give me my sword, and help me up, I’ll fight.
_A Leech._ Sir Knight, if you rise up it is your death.
_Gwaine._ Damn thee, to lie here helpless is to die,
With those fierce sounds of battle in mine ears.
Quick! my sword! mine old strength cometh back.
(_A_ Squire _hands him his sword, he leaps to his feet. The
battle comes near and they are all borne out fighting.
Re-enter_ GWAINE _borne by_ Soldiers _and the_ Leech.)
_Leech._ I told thee thou wouldst die.
_Gwaine._ And so wilt thou some day, and like a milksop, i’ thy
bed.
’Twas a poor prophesy though a sure one. It is naught.
Turn me over. Yea, I wedged some skulls, and clipped
Damned Mordred’s wings o’ some pen-feathers.
_Enter_ ARTHUR.
_Arthur._ So far the battle’s ours, this edge at least
Of Britain’s soil doth Arthur own to-night.
What be this?
_Gwaine._ ’Tis Gwaine, King, brought to bay at last.
_Arthur._ Thou wert mad to fight.
_Gwaine._ ’Twas madness not to fight with all that battle
Ringing its clarion thunders in mine ears.
All life be madness and death but the healing of it.
I have reft some brain-pans, i’ my time, ha! ha!
Tell traitor Launcelot.--Yea turn me softly,
’Twas a deft hand did give me that last stroke.
_Leech._ What be thy message knight, thy time groweth short?
_Gwaine._ Yea, take away,--tell Launcelot, Gwaine’s vengeance
waits him i’ the nether black. (_Dies._)
[_Curtain._
SCENE III.--_Night on the battle field. The royal tent_, ARTHUR’S
_Camp_.
_Arthur._ Ho! there without. (_Enter a_ Page.) Send me Sir
Bedivere. [_Exit_ Page.
_Enter_ SIR BEDIVERE.
_Arthur._ Is all safe i’ the camp?
_Sir B._ Yea, Sire, the sentries are set and watch fires
ablaze. And all ready for battle i’ the first dawn.
_Arthur._ What of the enemy?
_Sir B._ They be the same, Sire, all seemeth quiet i’ the camp.
_Arthur._ Remember all watchfulness, so there be no surprise.
Thou canst go Bedivere, I would fain sleep.
_Sir B._ Yea, I go, Sire, and God keep thee this night.
_Arthur._ Stay, Knight, Arthur of England is a lonely man,
Betrayed of those who should have loved him best.
To-night perchance he fronts the brink of death,
In bloody battle for his rightful kingdom.
Take this ring, Knight, in memory of thy King,
(_Gives him a ring._) Survive he not the morrow.
_Sir B._ God keep thee, Sire! [_Exit_ SIR BEDIVERE.
_Arthur._ Now what will morrow’s dawn-rise bring to Arthur?
Will it bring bloody victory or defeat?
How like an autumn wood is stript my glory,
Who short since was sole monarch of this realm.
Oh! evil Spite, that ruleth this sad world!
Come joy, come hope, there’s nothing sure but death.
Yea, I will sleep and muffle out my sorrows
A little while. (_Goes to the couch._)
Nay, Arthur will not pillow till he beds with death,
Or doth regain his kingdom. I will rest here.
(_Seats himself on a chair and wraps his cloak about him._)
Now for Oblivion’s peace!
O stricken King, thou art the loneliest to-night.
In any realm. (_Leans forward, falls asleep. A_ Page _steals in_.)
_Page._ He sleeps. (_Exit_ Page.) (ARTHUR _starts and mutters_
“Launcelot! Launcelot! My friend! My friend! Guinevere! Ah!
Guinevere!”)
_Ghost of Merlin rises._
_Ghost._ Arthur of England!
_Arthur._ (_In his sleep._) Merlin! Ah! Merlin!
_Ghost._ I come to tell thy doom. To-morrow! Arthur, to-morrow!
_Arthur._ Away Spirit! Afright me not. Away! Away!
(Ghost _vanishes_, ARTHUR _starts up_.)
Ah, Merlin! did I dream of Merlin? ’Twas but the fancy.
Oh, great Mage, to-night thy portents wander back
Unto my mind, Oh couldst thou see thine Arthur.
To-morrow, said the voice within my dream.
To-morrow! Yea, to-morrow!
(_Sits down again and folds his cloak. Sleeps. Mutters_ “Mordred!
my son Mordred!”)
_Ghost of_ GWAINE _rises_.
_Ghost._ King!
_Arthur._ Ah! ’Tis thou! Away! away!
_Ghost._ King, fight not tomorrow.
_Arthur._ (_In his sleep._) Nay, I will!
_Ghost._ King, fight not to-morrow.
_Ghost vanishes_, ARTHUR _wakes_.
_Arthur._ Yea, sleep is but the border land o’ death.
’Tis twice! ’Tis twice! It is a certain portent.
Yea, Arthur fights, though Arthur dies, to-morrow.
Yea, now I’ll sleep, for I am over-weary.
Weary of life, yea I am over-tired.
I would fain sleep though night should have no morning.
This night is sweet and restful. To-morrow comes doom,
This hour for soft oblivion. [_Curtain._
SCENE IV.--_Near the battlefield. Enter two_ Knights.
_1st Knight._ This day is Britain doomed and Arthur’s Court.
Rent and dismembered by old grisled war.
_2nd Knight._ Meseems the kingdom’s severed like two tides
That meet together in some mountain course
To whelm other. Arthur’s star grows dark,
And Mordred’s darker. ’Tis the Queen they say,
Hath cursed the realm with her godless loves.
_Enter two other_ Knights, _fighting on foot_.
_1st Knight._ A Mordred! Ho! A Mordred!
_2nd Knight._ An Arthur! An Arthur! Have at you! (_They close
and each stabs the other. Both die._)
_1st Knight._ Thus is the kingdom rent like doomsday’s crack.
Such awful portents have been told abroad,
Since yesternight. Some say the world hath end.
_2nd Knight._ And what be they?
_1st Knight._ The crucifixes on the churches’ walls
Have trickled blood, and many abbey bells
Have tolled the midnight, rung by no man’s hand.
Yea, even the dead have risen from their graves.
_2nd Knight._ Ora pro nobis!
_1st Knight._ Some even say that Merlin hath come back
And prophesied the kingdom at an end,
And all last night men dreamed such fearsome dreams
Of blight and pestilence and spectres dire;
I fear me much the end of days hath come.
_2nd Knight._ How goes the fight?
_1st Knight._ Yea even fiercer, as two tidal waves,
That roar together on some might bore,
And meet in thunders. Never hath such war
Been known in Britain since the ancient days.
The bowman’s arrows darken all the sun.
The battle-axes clamor on the shields,
As on some morn the loud woodcutter’s din
By some bright hillside. Knight encounters knight
In serried thunders. All the kingdom’s turned
To one mad tournament of blood and flame.
(_The battle is heard moving nearer. Both rush out._)
_Another part of the field. Enter_ ARTHUR _surrounded by_ knights.
_Arthur._ Now where is he, that monster, foul, deformed,
In shape and spirit, Nature calls my son?
_Enter_ MORDRED.
_Mordred._ Here!
_Arthur._ Ah, Blot on all this sunlight, Creature dire,
Spawn of mine incest. There standest thou my sin,
Incarnate now before me, mine old doom,
Thou that wast stronger in thine influences
To work dread evil in this hideous world,
Than all the glory, all my good might win.
_Mordred._ Father!
_Arthur._ Yea, well say Father! Parent I this ill
That hath enrent my kingdom all in twain.
In that dread night of my licentious youth,
When I in darkness thy foul shape begot,
I worked a web of blackness round my fate,
And thine, distorted phantom of my sin,
Not all the tolling of sweet abbey-bells
And murmur of masses sung these thousand years,
Can sweep from this doomed kingdom. Father, yea,
There is no truce betwixt us. Thou art Death
To all that I hold dearest on this earth.
Thou stood’st betwixt me and my gladder fate,
The one black spot on all my glory’s sun.
In thee once more mine evil blackens in,
Reddens mine eyesight. Have at thee, foul Curse!
_Mordred._ Father!
_Arthur._ Have at you! (_They fight._ ARTHUR _wounds_ MORDRED.
_He falls. A_ Knight _stabs_ ARTHUR _from behind_.)
_Arthur._ Ho! all the sunlight blackens! Mordred! Oh!
My glory darkens! Curtain not yon sun! (_Dies._)
_Mordred._ Yea, this is all and I were made for this,
To scatter death and desolation round
On this fair kingdom, ruin this sweet land,
And level all the pride of Arthur’s glory,
As men might level some great castle walls.
And sow with salt the fields of his desire,
And make him mock before the eyes of men.
Turn all his great joy into bitterness.
Yea, I his blood, and I were made for this.
Oh ancient, cruel Laws of human life,
Oh deep, mysterious, unfathomable Source
Of man’s poor being, we are ringed about
With such hard rinds of hellish circumstance,
That we can never walk or breathe or hope,
Or eye the sun, or ponder on the green
Of tented plain, or glorious blue of Heaven,
Or know love’s joy, or knotted thews of strength,
But imps of evil thoughts creep in between,
Like lizards in the chinks of some fair wall,
And mar life’s splendor and its fairness all.
’Tis some damned birth-doom blended in the blood
That prophesies our end in our poor acts.
Oh! we are but blind children of the dark
Wending a way we neither make nor ken.
Yea, Arthur, I had loved thee sweet and well,
And made mine arm a bulwark to thy realm,
Had I been but as fair as Launcelot.
What evil germ, false quickening of the blood,
Did breed me foul, distorted as I am,
That I should mar this earth and thy great realm
With my wry, knotted sorrows? Launcelot’s love
Was manly, kind, and generous as became
A soul encased in such propitious frame.
The kingly trees well turn them to the sun,
And glory in their splendor with the morn.
’Tis natural that noble souls should dwell
’Twixt noble features, but the maiméd soul
Should ever be found in the distorted shape.
But I had loved as never man hath loved
Did nature only plant me sweet at first.
(_To his Knights._) And now I die, and blessed be my death,
More blessed far that I had never breathed.
Murder and Treason were my midwives dire,
Rapine and Carnage, priests that shrive me now.
_Enter_ VIVIEN, _disguised as a_ Squire.
_Vivien._ Mordred! thou diest!
_Mordred._ Who art thou?
_Vivien._ I am Vivien.
_Mordred._ Hence, hence Viper, incarnate Fiend.
Not natural, woman, but Ambition framed,
And all lust’s envy. Thou wert unto me
A blacker blackness. Did an angel come,
And whisper sweeter counsel in mine ears.
And trumpet hopes that all were not in vain,
But thou wouldst wool mine ears with malice dire,
And play upon the black chords of my heart.
Hence, Devil! Mar not these my closing hours.
_Vivien._ O, Woe! Woe! (_Steals out._)
_Mordred_ (_To the_ Knights.) Now bear me slowly to great Arthur’s
side
And let me place my hands upon his breast,
For he was mine own father! Alas! Alas!
So hideous is this nature we endure.
(_The_ Soldiers _place him by_ ARTHUR.)
How calm he sleeps, Allencthon, as those should
Who die in glorious battle. Dost thou know
Oh! mighty father that thine ill-got son,
Ill-got of nature and mysterious night,
To mar thy splendor and enwreck this world
Now crawls to thy dead body near his death,
As would some wounded dog of faithful days,
To lick his master’s hand? Blame not, O King,
If thou somewhere may know what I here feel,
Thy poor, misshapen Mordred. Blame him not
The turbulent, treacherous currents of his blood
Which were a part of thine, nor let one thought
Of his past evil mar thy mighty rest;
I would have loved thee, but remember that.
Now, past is all this splendour, new worlds come,
But nevermore will Britain know such grace,
Such lofty glory and such splendid days.
Back of the clang of battle, back of all
The mists of life; the clamour and the fall
Of ruined kingdoms built on human days,
Arthur! Merlin! Mighty dead, I come!
(_Springs to his feet._)
Ho! Horse! To horse! My sword! A trumpet calls!
A Mordred! (_Dies._)
[_Curtain._
THE END.
HILDEBRAND
AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY.
FOUNDED ON THE LIFE AND CHARACTER
OF
THE GREAT POPE GREGORY VII,
HIS STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY WITH HENRY IV OF GERMANY,
AND HIS ENFORCEMENT OF THE CELIBACY OF THE CLERGY.
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._
HILDEBRAND, _Pope Gregory VII_.
HENRY IV, _of Germany_.
PETER, _Damiani, a monk_ (_friend to Hildebrand_).
GERBHERT, _a married priest of Milan_.
ARIALD, _a decretal preacher_ (_lover of Margaret_).
ARNULPH, _a decretal preacher_.
BRUNELLI, _a cardinal_.
Bishop of Bamburg.
WOLF, _Lord of Bamburg, a German Noble_.
Two Burghers.
BRUN, }
WAST, } _two monks_.
An Abbot.
A Warder.
Queen of Germany.
MARGARET, _wife of Gerbhert and daughter of Hildebrand_.
CATHERINE, _mother of Margaret and former wife of Hildebrand_.
Cardinals, Lords, Bishops, Soldiers, Monks, Burghers and Pages.
HILDEBRAND.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--(_Rise outer Curtain._) _An Inn-yard in Milan. Two_ Burghers
_discovered seated at a table, drinking_.
_1st B._ Well, well, these be the strange days indeed, indeed!
_2nd B._ (_Rather drunk._) How now, neighbor Burnard, how now?
_1st B._ Heardst thou not the news, good Neighbor? But with thy
nose always i’ the wine-pot, thou canst not know anything
aside its rim.
_2nd B._ Wine-pot, wine-pot, thou sayst ha! ha! nose i’ the
wine-pot thou sayest, ’tis better than sticking it into every
business save thine own, hey! neighbor Burnard! But what be
this news that would keep the nose out o’ the wine-pot?
_1st B._ There be a new Pope at Rome, the Monk, Hildebrand. How
like you that?
_2nd B._ God, keep us all! Now thou dost say it! It seemeth
they be making new Popes every Michaelmas. This were no
reason for to keep the nose outside the wine-pot. Here’s to
his health, God save him!
’Twere a merry grape was squeezed for this, good Neighbor.
Here’s long life to thee an’ the Holy Pope, and especially to
the royal Henry. Soon may he come to Italy.
_1st B._ It be said, Henry cannot sleep o’ nights i’ his bed,
for the making of this same Pope, Hildebrand, or Hellbrand,
as some folks call him. But hast thou heard the greater news?
_2nd B._ Nay, what now? Nothing be new now. Nothing be new,
along o’ fighting and preaching and lechering and damning in
the Church and State. Nothing be new save drinking, and that
be ever new. Ha! ha! What else be new?
_1st B._ ’Tis concerning this same scarce-baked Pope, this
Hellbrand. ’Tis said he hath sworn by the mass and all the
saints never to rest until he hath unwived all the priests i’
Europe. How like you that, good neighbor Burnard?
_2nd B._ Ho! ho! ’Tis a good joke. Unwive the priests! ’Tis a
good joke. ’Twere well for me and thee did he swear a vow to
unwive all the burghers i’ Milan. ’Twould gie one I know more
peace i’ his bed o’ nights. ’Tis the priests ever have all
the good fortune i’ Europe. Ah me, ah me! ’Tis ever so.
_1st B._ Yea, but there’s more news yet, good Neighbor, this
same Hellbrand, which be a good name for him if he be Pope,
hath sent out two wondrous preachers, endowed with uncommon
powers of tongue and orders, to spread this same doctrine in
all Italy and throughout Europe; an’ it be said they took
fearsome oaths, on pain of eternal damnation, not to rest
till they had done so; an’ further, ’tis said, they be here
to-night to preach i’ the market.
_2nd B._ I’ Milan?
_1st B._ (_Rising._) Yea i’ Milan, here, i’ the square.
_2nd B._ Well now! It do be passing strange, well now! It be
a damn law, and he be a damn liar, who saith not. A most
unnatural law, for our good pastor. Were it my case now,
it were fitting, (_1st goes out_) who taketh a lecture
every midnight near upon cock-crow, such as no Pope’s Bull
could outwit in language an’ rhetoric. Say good Neighbor,
what thinkest thou? Might I not be made a priest? What be
qualifications? (Ha! he hath gone!) I could drink with an
abbot, yea, an archbishop, yea, I’ll see this same Hellbrand
about the matter: it shall be done, be done, ha! ha! it shall
be done. (_Reels out._)
(_Rise inner Curtain, the market place._) _Enter several jolly_ Monks.
_1st._ (_Sings_) Ours be a jolly life,
No care nor ill have we,
We neither toil nor starve nor beg,
But live right merrily.
_All._ No wife to scold, no child to squall,
An’ put us on the rack;
We drink good wine, we kiss the maids,
An’ the Pope is at our back.
_2nd._ So here’s unto the jolly monk, (_all grasp hands_),
And here’s to him, alack, (_all clench fists_)
Who’d turn him from his board and bunk,
For the Pope is at his back.
_All._ The Pope is at our back, good Freres,
The Pope is at our back;
We fleece the churls, we scorn the King,
For the Pope is at our back. (_All pass on._)
_Enter a great crowd of_ Burghers, men _and_ women, _who fill the
market. Enter_ ARNULPH _and_ ARIALD, _the decretal preachers_. ARNULPH
_ascends a pulpit to harangue the crowd_.
_Arnulph._ Know ye Citizens and Burghers of Milan, that whereas
in the past, by reason of evils and curses, through the power
of the Devil, Holy Church hath fallen into abomination, to
the shame of men and sorrow of Heaven, it hath here now and
at this time, behooved her to cast off certain of those
abominations, to wit, especially that most heinous sin,
whereby the priests of the altar, do, without grace and
carnally given, co-habit in concubinage with those weaker
vessels, even as do the common and unsanctified of humanity;
wherefore know ye Citizens and Burghers of this city of
Milan, that the Holy Father doth now and at this time, by
me and through me, instruct you each and collectively, of
the dreadful enormity of this most damnable sin, whereby the
holy priesthood is made of none effect, and Holy Church doth
languish in weakness and vassalage to the princes and lords
of this carnal world,--know ye,--
_A Burgher._ Most reverend Doctor, cut ye short the “know
ye’s” an’ the “wherefores” and th’ “verbiations” an’ the
“latinities” an’ come down from your high flown rostrum an’
tell us the church’s will. We be plain men.
_Other Burghers._ Well done, Big Gellert. Thou art in the right
of it. Bravo! Gellert.
_Ariald._ Insolent Lump! would’st thou interrupt a doctor of
Holy Church?
_Gellert._ Holy Church confound him and thee, too, thou
sour-faced varlet! Who’s a talking of Holy Church? He is but
a stray rooster from some mad convent, an’ thou his mate
ranting on a mad doctrine. Holy Church teacheth no such
damned doctrine. Be we fools?
_Burghers._ Well hit, Big Gellert, thou canst give him the
latinities of it. Hit him back, old Pigeon!
_Arnulph._ Beware, thou impious Mountain of mortality, an’ ye
foolish burghers lest ye insult in me a power that is behind
me.
_A Clerk._ Come, come, get thee down, we want no such strange
doctrines. We have had clergy, good men with wives and chicks
i’ Milan, these centuries back, an’ we be no Sodom.
_Arnulph._ I know not your customs, but in the name of Holy
Church, I Arnulph, hereby command ye on pain of deepest Hell
hereafter, that ye abstain from all masses made or performed
by any priest who continues in this unholy state, for I tell
you be he priest, archdeacon, bishop or archbishop, he is
accursed, and doubly accursed.