The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [146]
[They exchange armor]
To each our own apparel and our mien.
GLOUCESTER
Your time in York, O King, did serve its need,
Did rightly beg your absence from the field?
ARTHUR
Good Duke, take pains not to omit my helm
Else company might think we swapped our heads.
GLOUCESTER
You take me for a joint-stool,17 King, then sit.
You welcome not my counsel, Majesty.
ARTHUR
I clip it to my breast at dawn and dusk.
There’s none save you enthroned within my heart.
GLOUCESTER
Then hear my words. Today was battle won—
ARTHUR
Such joyous tidings, Duke, do glad me well.
GLOUCESTER
By gross deception came this victory.
Your men believe you led them into war.
ARTHUR
An if they so believe, then so I did.18
But now, our royal transformation done,
[Enter nobles with prisoners including Mordred, Calvan, and Colgerne]
We greet our men with fettered prisoners—
What guests have you, my English chivalry?
CUMBRIA
These bales19 are but a tithing20 of our crop.
They wait their fate upon this lower world21
And we our fortunes as you judge our worth.—
Hail, Gloucester, hail! At battle’s end you come
To fright the prisoners with your martial air.
ARTHUR
Great lords of Britain, by your arms is peace,
So long extirped,22 replanted on our isle.
ALL
Hail Arthur! Hail Britain! To our king!
ARTHUR
For two score years these knaves cast pestilence
From north and sea ’pon our abusèd land,
And crushed beneath their tread our wealth, our crop,
Our churches, beasts, and golden English corn.
I sweep my eye across these hanging23 looks,
These villain Saxons, Picts, and shamèd Scots.
With but a breath could our worse nature burst
And wash again this new-dried ground with blood.
O, Englishmen! Is there yet one of us
Who would not venge on Scotchman’s neck the cries
Most pitiful of murdered English babes?
What joys have they not thieved from out our homes?
My youthful days, my kingdom, and my sire:
All this I lost and this far past enough
T’excuse a slaughter of this murrained24 herd.
Anointed king, still I am but a man,
And men do long for blood to balm their wounds.
ALL
Then kill them all! For Arthur! Kill them all!
ARTHUR
But do these cringing mice contain enough
Of blood to slake and chill our burning thirst?
Or will their cries not satisfy our hate,
But feed and thereby swell our hate’s desire,
While their own mothers, orphans, widows shrike25
In twisted tongues and curse us to their gods,
Demand our blood to wash their tear-stained cheeks?
There’s none so swift to carve this tendered flesh
As I, who look on them and grows hate-drunk.
But this eternal hatred is a pox,
Which e’en struck down and slew my father-king.
As royal touch can heal a man’s disease,26
It can as quick transform man’s hate to love,
And in a trice sweep winter from the land,
To reap the fruit of peace.
CUMBRIA
[Aside] What talk is this?
ARTHUR
Let Colgerne, vassal now to Britain’s king,
To German lands with all his men repair
Without delay, but know that they will die
If e’er they do return.
CUMBRIA
[Aside] Have I my wits?
ARTHUR
Familiarity did breed contempt;27
Disloignèd28 far, love ’twixt us may increase,
And by exampled English mercy shown
May Saxons now embrace our Lord. Cast off
By Lincoln Wash, and from our realm begone.
GLOUCESTER
You will I know hold some as surety.
And not deny your iron men29 their prize.
ARTHUR
I do intend precisely that, my duke.—
Here Mordred, thou didst wager dad’s own crown,
But frozen luck, thou lost it to thy betters.
To Pictland now and fetch thy father here
T’impress the wax of his remembrance, boy,
That he doth rule his Picts at Arthur’s pleasure.
In earnest of this love I bear for him,
We hold for now young Calvan to our breast
And in great London’s tower feast our guest.
Exeunt, manet30 Cumbria
CUMBRIA
Did e’er his father win such victory?
Did e’er his father cast away the like?
To clutch in mailèd fist his enemies,
Then careless drop them back into the fight?
This cock-a-prance!31 This beadsman,32 preached of love,
Yet loved us not