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. 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 â—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 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 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
that will driue th' unwilling to their death Or frustrate death in those that faine would die Offend alike They spoile that bootelesse 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 Should 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 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 my 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 slowe 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 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 chaunce 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. 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 I '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 care 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 yield 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 CHORVS 1 See 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 iawes In Theb'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 Arthur warres in France and Mordred's foile that resisted his 〈◊〉 2 In the second Scene Mordred enraged at the ouerthrow voweth a second battaile notwithstanding Conan's disswasion 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 Prince 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 aboue 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 refusd 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 siedge 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 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 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 't will 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. T is 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 t weare 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 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 T is 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 your 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 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 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 I le 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 t is 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 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
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 â—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 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 Th ambicious seemeth meeke the wanton chast Disguised vice for vertue vants it selfe Thus Arthur 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 â—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 i st 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 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 â—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 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 t is 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 doâ— 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. Doubt not the Realme is yours ARTH. T' was mine till now CADO. And shall be still ARTH. If Mordred list CADOR T' were weâ— Your crowne were wonne ARTH. Perhaps t is bettes lost â—OWE The name of rule should moue a princely minde â—RTH. Trust me bad things haue often glorious names â—OWE The greatest good that Fortune can affoord â—RTH. A dangerous good that wisedome would eschue â—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 â—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 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 fedde 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 Brytaines 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 Display my standart forth let Trumpe and Drumme Call Souldiers nere to heare their
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 t is 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 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 Fortune laid the prime of Brytaines pride There laide her pompe all topsie turuey 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 Saxons well may vow their former claimes And Danes without their danger driue vs out These warres found not the 'effect 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 T will 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 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 rest 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
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 Mordreds 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 greéde As needes enforceth all your Realme to rue Yet since such ruth affordeth no releefe Let due discretion swage each curelesse sore 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 win that see your foe here foilde 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 feede 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 Inspires 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 stem'de to reaue thy Fathers rule But staine 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. What 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 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 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 flattering looke wherewith he long 〈◊〉 leâ—â— The smiling Fates that oft had fedde his Fame The many warres and Conquests
which he gaind Are dasht at once one day inferres that forte 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 ioye In prosperous state all Heauenly powres aspir'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 Fame 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 bearer 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 scapte 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 blisse 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 Orcus 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 tho He hates each other Heauen that haunteth Hell Descendit 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 th ambicious 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 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 vtcunque 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 Ordure foule of Harpies fierce disteind The fates and burden 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 With dreames with horrors and with deadly traunce Shall gripe their hearts the vision of his corse Shal be 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 shal be thy fatall gulfe Arthur thy place of birth thy place of death Mordred shal be 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 t o'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 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 Cateline 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