The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [153]
I do suspect that now, regretful king,
’Tis more convenient you should give each girl
Full half your face engraved upon a coin,
Thus binding up rememberance and pay.
ARTHUR
For all the sorrow that boy moved in thee,
I strong rebuke him and on his account
Requit with crown that I have by my hand,
No crown of weeds that will not live a day
But that becomes thy beauty and thy state,
And may yet cure the harm to thee and me.
GUENHERA
O smooth, smooth king, what sayest thou to me
Thou hast not sworn an hundred times before?
ARTHUR
Unjust, fair Guenhera, and here’s the proof:
For half the month has Gloucester filled my ears
With policy, alliances, and leagues,
And all my flaws from when I was a babe.
One hour ago, by his sharp reasoning,
I thought to yield the day and bow my head,
To play a kingly lover, winning us
Some foreign fields and rights to levy tax.
But now I am as mute as any boy
Who never yet has touched a lover’s lips.
I’m dry. Wouldst have a king before thee kneel?
I kneel. Wouldst have a king forsake demesnes?
Adieu to France attending in the hall.
GUENHERA
An if it were reversed, not thou but I
Who left behind to weep discarded loves,
Wouldst thy new faith in my new bond be strong?
Couldst thou forgive and take me as thy queen?
ARTHUR
Return with me to woods in Gloucestershire,
Begin anew upon our proper path.
Thy hand. Thy hand, and in the oakshot51 sun
Come walk thy ways with me, o’er roots and earth.
Soft, kiss me, Guen, half-close thy lovely eyne52
And in this wispen53 dawn of gold-flecked mist
We catch our breath and hear the lark’s first song.
Soft, kiss me, Guen, and take this flowered crown
[He crowns her]
And sit with me in shade and kiss me, Guen.
[He kisses her]
GUENHERA
Need call we now the courtiers?
ARTHUR
Anon.
Exeunt
[ACT III, SCENE II]
[Location: The Royal Kennels]
Enter the Houndmaster and his Boy
MASTER
He fought his bit of war, yes, but that’s all done now.
And see if it were not what I augured.1 He sends his
his army home, the most of ’em, to fields and
traffics.2 Those uncles of thine, home again, both
arms about ’em. The earth gives up its foison,3 the
markets are loud with cries, roads all teem with
wheels. The queen is round with young.4 The court’s
a court of music all the day. The king’s that boy again
I loved. He came again last night, d’ye know, and
called me friend, and stood at this gate here and
stepped up to the bar to reach within, and he did
watch the hounds an hour yet. Asked all their names
and stepped right in, dropped to his knees and had
them in his arms, suffered them to wet his royal face
and stroked the velvet of their ears. Said he thought
Hamish was of Edgar’s line, noble shoulder, noble
brow and muzzle, he said, the color minded him of
Edgar. He has the eye for blood. And now the queen
ripe to bring a prince, that prince will come to us,
mark it, see, and learn the dogs as well. Both be
here.
BOY
If she whelps5 a prince, what’s that make for Tom, the
boy of Joan? And Phoebe’s boy? Not princes are
they, sure?
MASTER
With beagles, ’tis no matter, sith, by law, the sire’s
good qualities hold strong into the pups. A bad dam
makes no harm upon the litter. Good sire means good
pups: good head, hard tooth, strong croup,6 there’s
thy father, there’s thy pup. People: ’tis not so. Take
Tom, thou sayest, and mark: his dam found that
Silvius7, 8 to wed her, so Tom’s no prince, or is no
more, if he were. And, mark his face and colors, he’s
more to his dam or even Silvius than he do
resemble—thou know’st the word.9 Though Silvius is
fat and gross enough in breadth to stick a cross-
passage10 while that Tom be slender as—11 ’tis not for
us. Now Phoebe’s got no husband, so the church says
her boy’s an orphan.
BOY
She calls him her own prince, says he’ll have a
kingdom in the sky.
MASTER
She’d be kinder yet to handle him as a good dog and
not talk such. Mark Agnes there. Does she spend her
days in thinking on what heaven holds for her? Does
she think on yesterday