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VORTIGERN.

'Tis well! I do commend your zealous care;

And now, good friends, one mournful change remains,

To attend the burial of our murdered King;

Oh! 'twas a nipping blast, which suddenly

Bereft us of our first, our sweetest plant,

Both King and Father it hath stolen from us;

"But wherefore do I strive to ope anew,

"Those gates which bar the course of liquid sorrow?

"No! rather let your big griefs pine unseen,

"Where cold restraint can neither chide curb ye,"

Farewel! time then be yours until to-morrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A Hall in VORTIGERN's Palace.

Enter VORTIGERN.

VORTIGERN.

How stands it now--then am I but Protector?

Oh! 'tis an attribute my soul abhors,

To sovereignty a pander and a slave,

That looks with wistful eyes upon the crown,

And dares not touch it; O! I will none on't.

Curse on those lords that did award me this,

Whose justice needs must force them keep the crown

For those, who by descent, do most deserve it.

By heav'ns, I'll pour my bitter vengeance down

For this their slow and niggardly promotion.

Yet as they did award and give me sway

Until the Prince Aurelius should return,

Then is it mine most sure! the Princes cannot

From their cold graves return to take it from me!

Their wish'd-for death is sure, yet do I dread--

For here within, there lurks a messenger

That cautions me, and fain would ha' me fear.

What ho! without I say! who attends there.

Enter Servant.

VORTIGERN.

Are there no letters yet arrived from Rome?

SERVANT.

No, my good liege.

VORTIGERN.

Nor messengers?

SERVANT.

Neither, my gracious sir.

VORTIGERN.

Retire a while.

[Exit Servant.

Nor messengers nor letters! this alarms me;

But what care I, e'en let the Princes come,

When come, there's room enough i'th' ground for them.

But soft! and let me weigh my present state,

For much I fear these barons proffer'd friendship.

"Their niggardly shew of liberality

"Suits ill my lofty aim, and but the semblance wears

"Of that my soul is thirsting for--Dominion!

"Not rivetted by closer ties their Chief, tho' friendly,

"May swerve and prove a foe."--

Yet I've a lure that shall ensnare that chief,

My daughter's hand! but if she shou'd refuse,

Then were my purpose baffled, or destroy'd.

Is it not strange, a flinty heart like mine,

Should stagger thus at thinking of a daughter?

Flavia! whose fondest love to young Aurelius,

Now sojourning at Rome, hath long been pledg'd!

Yet what of that! shall she, a whining girl,

Oppose a father's and a monarch's will?

My firm resolve once know, will shake that mind

Which in her gentlest moments nature fram'd;

This work atchiev'd each lord his aid shall lend,

And to my will the haughtiest crest shall bend.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

London. The Palace.

Enter FLAVIA and PASCENTIUS.

FLAVIA.

Oh! heav'ns! in thy great mercy thou hast led me

To that dear object I so long have sought

Through ev'ry secret winding o'th' palace.

PASCENTIUS.

My Flavia say!

What is't hath ruffled thus thy gentle bosom?

I fear our father hath occasion'd this,

For late as passing through the hall I saw him,

He paced to and fro in great disorder,

Sometimes in deep thought lost, he'd stop and pause,

Then o'er his troubled breast crossing his arms,

Would utter words, but in a voice so low,

That they distill'd themselves i'th' gentle air.

Tho' I did thrice address him, yet he brake

Abruptly from me, and no answer made.

I never saw the conflict of his soul.

So plainly in his countenance pourtray'd.

FLAVIA.

Alas! 'tis true! I too have seen my father;

And harshly has he urg'd my breach of vow

To my Aurelius, and to pledge my love

To one my soul abhors! say then, my brother,

Is that kind friendship for my lov'd Aurelius,

Which first in years of infancy took root,

Is it yet untainted? Speak truly brother--

And are thy vows of frienship to thy sister

Pure and unspotted as the face of heav'n!

And wilt thou save her?

PASCENTIUS.

'Tis not in my nature

To act a treach'rous or ungenerous