The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [152]
I spent too soon the language I did know,
Like to an actor hoarse from preparation,
Or a traveller of the Afric coast,
Who lights with wonder on an unknown bank,
But finds he’s burnt his words on duller lands.
What can I say that was not elsewhere false?
And more above, I’d verse upon these sights,
But sure you are the matter’s wisest scholar,
Thrice-schooled in science of your beauty’s paths.
At glass you have learnt all the fields and hills:
I cannot win you with geography
Of your own kingdom’s sparkling coasts and leas.
GUENHERA
So I am Vanity in your conceit?29
ARTHUR
No saint there is who could resist that sin
Were every glass so richly laid with like
Temptation to’t. Say that you love me still.
GUENHERA
O! Kings speak love when love is politic!
Was’t Gloucester or my brother Constantine
Impressed30 your words to move sad Guenhera,
Revive her young days’ camomilèd31 hopes?
A king must wed where stratagem decides,
Where blind boy’s32 arrows, shot with policy,
Do prick the heart but slightly if at all.
What promised they I’d furnish Britain’s king?
Do I bear land or gold or men at arms?
ARTHUR
Though caution urge me hide the case, here ’tis:
I was but now set down to study love
And think how kings, though men, must sacrifice
Their own desires to commonweal’s demands.
Much wind was blown today to ope mine eyes
That Britain’s new-made master must ally
More closely now to—
GUENHERA
Cornwall?
ARTHUR
France, Guen, France.
Already are we Cornwall’s sovereign lord.
There is no policy in Guenhera
Being Arthur’s empress, yet I stand in gyves.33
I of a sudden am again a boy
But granted better wisdom of my years.
My younger sight now sharper with new wit
I mark in you far more than Cornwall’s cliffs.
GUENHERA
Thy father, too, did love a Cornish girl.
ARTHUR
But not so gently. Sure I am not he.
GUENHERA
Were’t not for Uter’s special34 appetite
My brother would not hold his watery earldom,
And I would not appear to royal eyes.
ARTHUR
We entertain conjecture such as this
And I do end the worse: unborn, unkinged.
I’d not be here and hammering the flint35
To kindle your extincted love for me.
GUENHERA
Extincted? Said I this? I do not know.
ARTHUR
That’s tying hope an inch above the reach.
To taunt a king with sour-sweet painful words
Is sure a crime that stains thy crystal name.
GUENHERA
How swift from love thou sayest I am stained!
As none dare foil thee in thy every bliss,
See thou art unaccustomed to be thwarted.
Like other Pendragons, thou’lt seize perforce36
What all thy words have failed to win with ease.
ARTHUR
Dear Guen, I say again I am not him.
The proof is in my mild and soft reply.
Though thou mayst roughly chain me to a stake,
And fill the yard, and arr37 and tear at me,
While cries for blood from every groundling38 rise,
I will but roll upon my back and sigh.
GUENHERA
But, noble bear,39 when I, a lovesick girl,
Did love that Arthur, all the world knew him
Bound in40 with dowsabels41 and ev’ry Joan.
No fury then, ’tis true: his smile sufficed
To win him what he would.
ARTHUR
While silent Guen
Did sadly mind his dog-star42 scrabbling43 days.
GUENHERA
One’s heart gone forth is hardly whistled home,
Not when it leaves behind true-weeping love.
ARTHUR
I would a kiss could drive away that pain.
GUENHERA
Thy lips, O King, are like Achilles’ spear,44
Such weapons that do wound and also heal?
ARTHUR
Might I not heal myself while healing thee?
GUENHERA
O fie! What pain ails thee, luxurious45 king?
ARTHUR
Regret46 can scratch a man so rough as thorns.
GUENHERA
Invention pains as well. Reports of love
That touched my ears stung worse than what I spied.
Oh, yes, I spied from in the tickling gorse.47
I spied you woo them, win them, weave their crowns
Of yellow buds that opened for the sun.
ARTHUR
’Twas nothing but some twisted celandine.48
My nurse did use to grind it when in need
And made from it a certain private paste.49
So nothing that thou spied should bring thee grief.
GUENHERA
I spied them weep, my eyes