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.—What is’t?MESSENGERMy king, as you did by their bond require,The Saxons lifted sail from Lincoln Wash.But soon a change of wind did hale12 them back.Their priests addeemed13 this blessed by pagan gods.They spilled from ship anew upon our isle,Contemptibly stepped back onto our sands.They throw their eyes on gold and church and field,They kill our countrymen and burn our land.ARTHURO, God! What scorn I do deserve from thee!What villainy is this? What have I wrought?What arrogant and idle prince am I!And where were men to chide my fond, mad youth?I should be scorned for my vain clemency.I am not mocked enough! O sugar-prince,A headstrong jade14 that should be roughly spurred!Let those who judge me weak be made at onceMy chosen privy councillors.—Which way?MESSENGERTowards Bath, my king.ARTHURWe’ll cote15 them ere they wash.This crime has touched me; I am powder-hot.To rear now post my word: our mercy’s pactRefused, each prisoner’s throat is to be cut.GLOUCESTERThe tidings speak but Saxon perfidy,Not Scot nor Pict.A moment’s calm, I beg.ARTHURI’ll not be tender pitying more, good duke.—Exit messengerMy men, imperfect16 is our bloody taskSo follow me, unsheathe your late-hacked bladeAnd dispatch hell-born foes to hellish shade.Exeunt[ACT II, SCENE IX][Location: The Pictish Court]Enter Doctor and ConranusDOCTORI have to all my texts submitted Loth,To all my wit, invention, fancy, hopes,To strong balsamo,1 leeches, pastes, and cuts.Yet still he falters and outstreams his life.It flows from ev’ry outlet, king.He fails.Enter Mordred, with train.CONRANUSThe prince with retinue is back from war,And surely wants the king his father’s ear.Go learn if audience may yet be had.—Exit DoctorGood Mordred, Duke, we missed you here at court.MORDREDI bear hard news of noble death, war’s tithe.The thanes2 of Bute and Moray, Linlithgow,And Douglas ride birlinns3 to Colmekill’s shores.4CONRANUSSuch heavy loss, so light an argument.MORDREDHow light, my uncle? Tell.A crown? A throne?A kingdom stole from thee stirs not thy gall?A tyrant who doth threat thy land and clan?5Who torments lawful embassy, hates peaceAnd would lock Pict and Scot in steely yoke?CONRANUSA petty prince thou told’st this court was weak,Who wanted nought of us ’til thou like dogDidst bite at him as would a bear and nowDost whine what thou hast learnt of his sharp claws.Speak troth, thou wert impatient of God’s will.An God did wish thee sat on London’s throne,He would not send thee home with thanesmen’s dooms.MORDREDAt Lincoln, King, I fought beside your son.CONRANUSSpeak thou no more a word.He follows not?Waits not upon thee nor presents to me?MORDREDBrave Hebrides gave battle like to none.On horse and foot—CONRANUSNo more.I want no more.MORDREDBut Scotland! King! We must record his deeds!You weep that yet must gaze upon his valor!CONRANUSShow mercy on my soul and heed my plea.MORDREDArt thou a man? But ope thy frighted earThat I may teach thy tongue some noble words.For God, who makes us labor for our cause,Doth bid us praise each death as sacrifice,Necessity, the proving of our right.He wants not that we mourn His project’s cost,But celebrate all blood that lifts us on.[Enter Loth, carried, with attendants and Doctor]Make red thy lily heart; my father’s come—[To Loth] My king, you must prepare yourself at once.But briefly: Calvan would that we should comeTo London’s tower, thence to bring him homeIn change for some few scarcely valued wordsThat Arthur would have spoke at him.6The hour of our strength will spring again,We’ll seize anew the vantage in the strife.DOCTORYour father’s apoplexy, Prince, forbidsHis travel e’en from here to castle gate.[Loth makes a sound or gesture]MORDREDWhat? Would he speak? Explain these signs to me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]