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The Tragedy of Arthur_ A Novel - Arthur Phillips [163]

By Root 771 0

Be brief, good men, you interrupt our work

Wherein we plot your havoc and despair.

FIRST AMB.

You brave good humor, King, despite of war,

And we from Mordred bring yet more relief.

Aware that you most dangerously are placed,

And wishing in his love for you no ill,

He offers you your bastard and your queen.

ARTHUR

’Tis well: he yields to us. We do accept.

Go set them free and we will spare your lives.

SECOND AMB.

Nay: interchangeably, you abdicate.

You must forsake your child, and he his rights,

The queen forsake her rights, and any birth.

All this does Mordred grant you in your peril.

FIRST AMB.

Else menaces most pitiless fell war,

The end of which you will not live to see,

And ere the first blow’s struck, the queen will die.

ARTHUR

I abdicate or Mordred slaughters her?

Is’t he who whets his blade against her throat?

And you will gladly serve such king as this?

What men are you that speak a tyrant’s words?

You will pay forfeit of your embassy.

GLOUCESTER

But hesitate to anger, King, and know

We are o’ermanned13 and fever gnaws our ranks.

ARTHUR

Must I unqueen the queen to buy her life,

Unking the king, depose myself for Picts?

CUMBRIA

A kingdom for a queen? In chess perhaps.

I give no faith in this that if we yield,

The queen will live or we will leave this field.

’Tis sure there be more queens to woo and wed

And other heirs that you can litter out.

CORNWALL

Nay, Mordred dare not spill such holy blood.—

[To Ambassadors] Go tell your king I’ll front him brow to brow

And singly14 fight with him by lance or sword,

With queen and all this island at the prize.

ARTHUR

Good Constantine, enough: we are engirt.15

Content ourselves, my brothers, this must be.

I would lose kingdoms, e’en my own, for her,

And ne’er would kill her in my wilful pride.—

[To Ambassadors] He must grant terms protecting all my men.

SECOND AMB.

To all who yield he swears his clemency.

Enter scout

CUMBRIA

But, lo, here’s panting word that wants for ear.

SCOUT

Your Majesty, the enemy’s abroach16

In two large wings that hawk-like spread themselves

And will in rapid minutes close us up.

ARTHUR

Speak that again: doth Mordred now attack

While we do entertain his embassies?

GLOUCESTER

The night’s too black to see with certainty,

And mud gives no preferment to the Pict.

No stratagem of men can sweep with haste

Across this hellish fog and bubbling mire.

Tell slower now what thine own eyes did spy.

CUMBRIA

By dark night’s coverture they creep at us

While embassies do talk us to our beds!

This crime doth disannul civility.

FIRST AMB.

Good king, I swear, we know of this no word.

No action can begin ere we return.

CUMBRIA

They lie. Within these bags of flesh and wind

Intelligence does nook17 and it must flow.

Large secrets want large outlets to escape

So we must loosely pierce and vent their hides.

SECOND AMB.

I vow, fair majesty, this cannot be.

ARTHUR

I fain18 had given kingdoms to the wolf,

But now I’ll send you on your way to hell.

[He kills Ambassadors]

FIRST AMB.

No! No! Unjust!

SECOND AMB.

O, villainy! I die!

GLOUCESTER

What crazèdness! In haste you slay the queen

And slay us all!

ARTHUR

You are a woman, Duke!

Now thundering into this mud and bog

We march ere Mordred’s slavering jaws do lock.

To arms! To arms! And arm yourselves with hate!

Hot rage now wing us o’er this drowning field!

Let fly the mangonels!19 Swing, trebuchets!20

Belch fire, cannon, lift us on your breath

And speed us to the queen or to our death!

Exeunt with charges

[ACT V,] SCENE IV

[Location: The Pictish camp]

Enter Mordred, Guenhera, Philip, Pictish soldiers

MORDRED

What noise is this? What motion is begun?

Wherefore are not my embassies sped home?

FIRST SOLDIER

Th’usurper’s massed battalia shoulder through

The swamp and murk of night with mighty speed.

Our wings are far advanced but close on air.1

MORDRED

He spurns our embassy and hies to fight?

He offers nothing for these ransomed lives

But values them beneath his throne and glory?—

[To Guen. or Philip] Your king doth

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