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The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [139]

By Root 767 0
Britons’ custom is.

DERBY

’Tis all?

ALEXANDER

With this complete and with your love,

He bids the Welsh and English chivalry

Unite with all his lands and western isles,

Together dash the Saxon from his realm.

DERBY

Art breathless yet?

GLOUCESTER

He asks no more than this?

Our lives, our wealth, vouchsafe his endless line,

And vail39 our pride to serve him as his bondmen?40

ALEXANDER

The duke hath taught me more should you dispute

The logic of my principal dispatch,

Although the latter words I fear to voice.

DERBY

How feculent41 thy northern vapors stink!

Would Mercury’s low wings be fixed above

And beating blow away these winds thou pip’st!42

Didst thou us beg pre-pardon43 and free tongue

To lick our ears with gleeks44 so sour and hot?

Come, take my true reply to your King Loth.

He strikes [Alexander]

ALEXANDER

Unrighteous knight, this violence45 done cold

’Gainst embassy’s anathema to God.

DERBY

O, messenger, pay heed to these few words.

What writing hand hast thou? A secretary’s?46

Wouldst thou then, boy, my words ink out with pen,

And dry with grains of fine white callis-sand,47

Or can thy cistern skull retain good water?48

Then tell thy king what Stephen Derby sayeth.

He strikes [Alexander]

ALEXANDER

Most vicious! Evil! Lawless, graceless knight!

NORFOLK

Do Loth and Mordred lust for England’s joys

And long t’embrace our rich and southern earth?

Then tell them, herald purpled,49 shamed to rose50

By bold Sir Derby’s steely words, that Norfolk

Doth bid them cool their passion, ice their stones51

In candied52 Clyde, for England hath her king,

A king who is beloved and temperate,

Extraught53 from ancient stock of heroes’ blood,

Full master of himself and bred to rule,

To freeze like basilisk54 the naughty Scot.

Tell this to Mordred from the Duke of Norfolk.

He strikes [Alexander]

ALEXANDER

Doth mickle55 England want for righteous men

As desert towns that God did burn to ash?56

GLOUCESTER

Restrain yourselves, nobility, and cease!

KENT

From Roman tower ride we north to Loth,

With war as key shall we unlock57 his land,

Upscale58 his Highland bounds and chastise him.

Look close this roweled59 spur of Earl of Kent

And tell Duke Mordred, jauncing60 Gall’way nag,61

That he will curb beneath King Arthur’s weight

Or feel this spur to perforate his hide.

He kicks [Alexander] with spur

ALEXANDER

But grant me leave to flee, cruel men! Enough!

GLOUCESTER

Retire, good Kent, this rage ill suits your name.

SOMERSET

Nay, Gloucester, ’tis no rage but honest law.

Attest, good prelate Caerleon, to this:

Six liberties are granted embassies:

Speak peace, or war, or amity, or none,

Set terms of ransom, voice a lord’s rebuke.

CAERLEON

’Tis by the square.

GLOUCESTER

But licenses no blows.

SOMERSET

Demands ill-mannered for our slavery

Would have us carry coals62 to King of Picts,

Heaps scorn upon our manhood and our king,

Commits felonious lese-majesty,63

Uncounted ways does tickle us to ire?

Were’t not this knave must hear our measured words

I’d cut away these hanging letters-patent.64

This froward65 wants a lesson in his speech,

And begs our gentle-voiced correction, so!

He strikes embassy

CUMBRIA

No English born, your Mordred and his Loth,

And loath are English born to bear strange rule.

To English born belongs this British isle,

To Arthur, noble bear, belongs the throne.

Now come, my saucy wayward embassy,

Bear north what words I will inscribe for thee,

[He draws dagger]

Steel quill, white parchment of your brow, red ink:

Arthur Rex!66

[He carves the letters on Alexander’s forehead]

ALEXANDER

Stop! God, O God, too cruel, hellish men, let go!

CUMBRIA

Rest still, my lazy drone67 and from this nest

Of eagles thou wilt fly true north with words

That weasel68 Pict might at his leisure read.

Exit [Alexander]

GLOUCESTER

Unruly lords of England, ’morrow’s king

May rue today’s ill-judged intemp’rature.69

Our gear70 allows no palfrey’s71 walking pace:

We now must lash your rights along the path:

How many liegemen here swear Arthur king?

CUMBRIA

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