The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [136]
[To Calvan] My brother, chafe14 your father’s icy hide
With selfsame news was read to us below.15
CALVAN
Prince Arthur flies to London’s Roman tower16
So soon as he doth make a potent head17
And therewith at the Abbey butt18 the crown,
From whence, with benison as Britain’s king,
He purposes with fearful sway19 to York
To venge his father’s death upon the Saxon.
MORDRED
To make a head! And post with sway! To venge!
Who acts thus, Calvan? Say you? Mouldwarp20
Arthur,
Bescreened in Wales, now dares to ope his eye!
That vain and liberal21 boy would stain the crown,
Would brave the London air and Saxon blades,
While valiant Pict and Scot—with whinyards22 sheathed
And buttoned belts23 left hanging by the wall—
Do ladylike sit fond and bluntly24 still.
CONRANUS
What though, if Arthur is of Uter’s seed?
For legacy he gains but bonny25 strife.
Long may he live as his dead sire did live,
Distract26 by constant war ’gainst Saxony,
Who’ll parallel27 the English king along
For ev’ry season of the years whilst we,
From Tweed to Tyne to Tees, extend our claim.
Let o’ercharged28 Arthur bleed and hold his crown
As northern tide flows unrelenting south.
MORDRED
You’d move our bound by modest ell29 or inch
When Britain all, this island whole entire—
All England, Wales, this Pictland, and your Scots—
By one crown all is ringed, and that crown mine.
CONRANUS
Your father’s.
MORDRED
Aye, my father’s, aye, if he
But stretch his gripping hand toward Arthur’s scalp.
CONRANUS
This wind of rhetoric racks not the heir.30
MORDRED
No lawful heir did sprout from Uter’s seed.
By lust made frantic, stole that vicious king
Into the absent Earl of Cornwall’s bed,
And there did scratch with steel31 th’resisting itch.32
The lady swelled with this false Prince of Wales
And Uter then grew bold to slay the earl,
Conspired to kill, like David of the Jews,33
In this alone resembling royalty.
That he did condescend to count the countess
Queen doth shade34 this Arthur no more king
Than dressing meat blown35 full with clouds of flies
Give th’relish to’t fit for royal feast.
Thus Uter was o’erthrown by Saxon arms
For God would straight again the fracted36 line:
He grants each king his line, each line its king.
If Arthur reigns, we violate God’s law.
Wouldst thou condemn each Scot and Pict to hell?
Dead Uter’s sister Anne, your queen, my dam,
Does give to you, O Father, from the grave,
This lawful seat and pleads you make your claim.
CONRANUS
But soft! Dead Uter was your uncle twice.
My Queen of Scotland mourns a brother’s death.
Too cruel to her your threats to snatch his crown
And rain down death upon her brother’s boy.
MORDRED
What speaks my aunt in this?37 Whence voice has
she?
Or you, enfeoffèd38 uncle, vassal liege
To Loth my father. Scots are sworn to Picts:
Conranus king is king by king of Pictland,
Though he wait silent by with Pictish grace.—
[To Loth] My father, stand and bellow that your voice
Ungently shout down London’s stolen walls
Until soft Arthur cap his beaten ears,
And yield to God and you his purse-picked crown.
LOTH
[Low mumbles] An if our call’s not heard?
MORDRED
Speak out, speak out.
I hear but coughing.
LOTH
If our call’s not heard?
MORDRED
Then let them hear the sounds of righteous war
’Til English ears do note your martial voice.
LOTH
Too forward39 is this talk of making war.
MORDRED
Then if you would forslow ’til lusty strength
Returns again in you, our guile will serve:
Send embassage to England with our cause,
And privy40 order to the Saxon camp:
Clandestinely we’ll spur them to our use
And prompt them to press south without delay,
Then we, false-troubled41 of the English need,
May have occasion t’offer them our aid
If they but42 plant the crown where God would have’t.
When you, new British king, from London rules,
Then we and our new English vassalage43
As one expel the Saxon from our shores.
CONRANUS
My brother-king, dare scorn my peace-soft heart,
Or say old men do always fly from toil.
But I did fight