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The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [138]

By Root 770 0
’s godly right?

These arms embraced King Uter as he died,

A man twice me, twice thee, twice any lord.

Beneath the walls of York he cried to me,

“Prince Arthur now will be your lawful king.”

KENT

O, tender-feeling Cumbria, ’tis well,

But you have not seen Arthur sith his youth

When that boy sprouted no more manly beard

Than trims a raspberry15 in August heat.

SOMERSET

And sith his beard has grown, you’ll find no man

Hath seen the prince’s thumbs.16

KENT

So long as that?17

SOMERSET

Renowned like to a serpent or a tailor’s.18

GLOUCESTER

What ancient barons’ rights are these t’abuse?

NORFOLK

These ten and seven summers hath the prince

In Gloucestershire reclined, whence rumor tells

That Arthur’s luxury-amazed,19 but king

Of milking maids, and each new queen he leads

By kecksie flourish20 to a clover bed.

No continence21 hath he and none dare bar

The boy from exercising his mad lusts.

SOMERSET

The father’s passions storm within the son!

Will abbey words becalm the prince’s rage,

The ire descried22 by those who should speak love,

That Arthur soars to fury when but touched,

Doth strike a man of noble birth for spite,

And spends his words of love upon a cook?

GLOUCESTER

Thus tales lead beasts, and heads too willing follow23

The boy is stern for war. Come tilt with him.

First pass he’ll lay you on your plated back

Like to a flea within a walnut-shell.

He’ll lift great sword and drop it on your pate24

With edge or flat or fig-ball pommel: choose.25

In York will he course fast as rolling floods,

As swift as you in thought may cross the globe.

KENT

Like to his father then he longs for war?

The father’s war did steal the father’s life.

The father’s son would match the father’s feat

And on his feet march all of us to death,

So son might set, like father, in the north.26

Forever war, forever war, and on.

Yet Saxons find war-stubbled York a prize

And would content themselves in its embrace.

This land’s o’er-marched, o’er-bled, o’er-wearied o’war,

Yet still Prince Arthur comes to wield a sword!

CUMBRIA

What danger cowards so the southern Kent

While Cumbria is gripped from north and east?

KENT

I am not wished to hear thy slanders, cur!

CUMBRIA

Nor Saxons wished to peace by Kent’s desires!

CAERLEON

Enough vain heat! My lords of England, peace!27

Enter Alexander

GLOUCESTER

What word hast thou, sirrah?28

ALEXANDER

No king is here.

GLOUCESTER

He comes anon. Again: what word? Make haste.

ALEXANDER

My master bids me say: “No king is here.”

NORFOLK

What master, fool?

ALEXANDER

Which is the lord protector?

GLOUCESTER

Thou clog’st29 him, stamm’ring chough.30

ALEXANDER

He greets you thus:

“Vice-regent for unrightful, sneaking prince.”

GLOUCESTER

What master lays such words upon thy tongue?

ALEXANDER

Grant leave, ye English nobles, I my words

May unconstrained display, as charged by Loth,

Great Pictish king, and Mordred, Duke of Rothesay.

GLOUCESTER

Thou tarried long for license, messenger,

By now is absolution pertinent.31

Yet doubt32 no moody welcome here. Proceed.

ALEXANDER

Then thus speaks Loth, the king of Picts.

KENT

And Mordred.

ALEXANDER

Yes, too, and Mordred, Duke of Rothesay, too.

’Tis thus they speak, in fewness and in truth.

KENT

So plainly warned do I now hope for neither.

Come, tell, what would thy dwarfish duke33 proclaim?

ALEXANDER

That Arthur was by boist’rous violence34

And out of holy wedded state begot.

King Uter stole a womb from Cornwall’s bed,

There planted criminal35 seed, and slew the earl,

Ennobled false pretender, spawned no heir.

By any Christian law, adultery

Creates a bastard with no right to throne,

And crime ’gainst God it is to lift a sword

To pillar36 so triobular37 a claim.

Nor Uter nor his brother left no issue.38

Their elder sister, Anne, was wife to Loth,

Who rules all Pictland, Scots, and Irish lands,

Who’s now, by Anne’s bond, English king and Welsh.

King Loth and Mordred bid you, English lords

And bishops, rouse up London, ope its abbey

Wherein pay homage due to Loth, your king,

According as the

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