No matter all your right and high intent.
But no, I turn and dare not follow this.
What affect’s this? I scarcely know this frost:
Is’t cowardice I feel ice o’er my heart?
It is. I see our end, but cannot start.
And so do kingdoms fall by vice’s art,
When righteous men in conscience stand apart.
Exit
ACT IV[, SCENE I]
[Location: The Royal Court, London]
Enter King, Queen [pregnant], Cornwall and nobles, ladies bearing scales and lady-whifflers1 with soft maces. Hautboys, harps
ARTHUR
My lords, give way. All men must bend the knee.
For now the ladies reign their hour in court,
And I dispose of all our sovereignty
Into these paler hands to bear law’s scales.—
My queen, in whom I have re-breathed2 my heir,3
Abdico meum regnum.4
GUENHERA
Loving friend,
God thank thy faith in gentler sex’s wisdom,
Which we now sharp5 upon the wheel of law.
Speak, Crier, read the charges to the court!
But where’s the Earl of Cumbria, who’s charged?
Go, send for him at once to stand before.
Enter Cumbria with lady-whifflers
ARTHUR
Tut,6 Cumbria! Be not a puling7 boy.
GUENHERA
My lord, if I do reign, then let me reign.
ARTHUR
O, gentle tyrant, mercy on my head.
GUENHERA
Once only do I wink,8 or else seem weak.
Now, Crier, speak!
LADY CRIER O, Earl of Cumbria!
As token of accused, uncertain state,
Bear willow branch as sign of love forsworn
And fennel leaf that honors lovers true.
She gives two branches
At trial’s end, shall one remain on you.
[Reading]
Imprimis:9 The Earl of Cumbria did, upon St. Lambert’s
Day,10 speak love to Rosamunde, a lady of this court,
and did move her with his words. Item: He having
purchased with words this melting heart, the same
earl did lead the lady to a bosky covert.11
Item: This same earl did, at mellay12 two days later,
wear no token of the lady in his helm or on his
person and, when he did smite Sir Stephen to the
ground, asked not the lady’s favor. Thus reads the
charge of most uncourteous love.
GUENHERA
The lady stands withal. Her case is plain.
And black th’unmitigated13 crime we hear.
If guilt is found then we pronounce the doom:
To Rosamunde forsworn you’ll pay a sonnet.
Its two and dozen branches14 will support
Perfumèd buds of love that you affect,
As every lady here can see in you.
Good Cumbria, what answer do you make?
CUMBRIA
Will you not ban15 this childish tick-tack,16 King?
Discharge your servant from this vanity,
This swarm of tomboy-geese,17 and swift restore
This wayward court to manly empery.18
ARTHUR
Kneel, slave, to thy dread queen and tame thy tongue,
Which were more sharp, thy neck had felt its edge.19
Compose thy fourteen lines to this poor maid,
Or suffer my compulsatory20 wrath.
GUENHERA
Such moody men ill suit our quiet court.
The both of you I hold as rudesbys,21 both:
Yes, king, who would o’erbear in his queen’s name,
But doing so o’erbears that queen you serve.
Thy sonnet is become a plump ballade,22
Good earl, and scowls will yield thee yet more verse.
For peevish king, on thee falls heavy doom:
A masque23 for Martinmas24 upon the theme
Of queenly wisdom.
Enter Gloucester
GLOUCESTER
King, the court must void
And council sit at once to hear my news.
GUENHERA
My duke, why haste and noise in ladies’ hour?
This sorts25 not with our majesty, dear friend.
GLOUCESTER
My king, there is but now delivered word.
Off Devon’s Linmouth coast a forest sprouts,
A wood at sea, but in its rise and fall
Distinct from landed trees that left and right
Do rock. And from each countless, tow’ring mast
Clap Saxon pennons: wolves and demi-fiends.
Unfinished yet are that coast’s daunting walls,
And force more vast than any we have known
Now wets its tongue on English blood and tears.
ARTHUR
We stand amazed at how it comes again,
And summer blue grows black by Saxon clouds.
Dear ladies, pray excuse our shifting key;
We must unwilling now hear other tunes.
GUENHERA
An hour yet, King, to see our matter’s end.
ARTHUR
How sweet, my love, to count each grain of time
Then turn th’hour-glass around again whilst thou
Dost sift the virtues in thy manuals.26
I feel remorse that we must turn to war
And bid you lead your ladies from the court.
GUENHERA
Unhappily we yield, my fearful liege,
But only if we may convene anon.
ARTHUR
Enough! There can be no more talk. Now, go!
Exeunt all ladies
Speak, Gloucester, Cumbria, all men of war:
What ready force might we in haste array?
GLOUCESTER
King, we are taken tardy by a phoenix
That we did reckon so much heaped-up ash.27
ARTHUR
These conquered Saxons practiced sorcery
That from their ruined state did plenish up28
So titely29 their annihilated strength.
CUMBRIA
No sorcery but your soft mercy, king,
When for their scabby pagan vows at York
You set them back on sea to breed and then
At Bath did qualm to slay but half their ranks
And loosed their weeping bearing boys to fly.
At Linmouth they repay your gentleness
While you do wail of clouds and sorcery!
GLOUCESTER
Withhold thine indignation, Cumbria,
And bow thy head in fear of thy king’s rage.
ARTHUR
Nay, nay, a king may rightly be rebuked.
’Twas youthful will to be unlike my sire
Provoked me to such bounty unadvised—
An Devon’s bulwarks are imperfect still,
I fear to know our count of ready men.
GLOUCESTER
Forsooth, scant thousand are trained up in arms.
To that add peasant ranks with knife and fork.30
CORNWALL
My power, nearest Linmouth in its day,
Was all brought north to fortify the Tyne.
ARTHUR
The Saxons find us lame, they will bestrut31
As far as London ere we give them fight.
What help can we account from northern lands?
CUMBRIA
The Pict will lend sworn arms at your command
But only if he fears your swift reproof.
ARTHUR
He knelt in Abbey’s echoes, kissed my ring.
Sure I doubt nothing of his fast reply.
Send now to him. Command his every pick.32
CUMBRIA
This reasons shallow, King. He bent his knees
When Arthur’s power waxed, and Pictlan
d’s throne
Was filled as Arthur would.
ARTHUR
And now?
CUMBRIA
And now
Nor fear of you nor love for you hath he,
But grudgeful holds you Calvan’s slaughterer,
And will no bloody aid deliver you
But smiling tarry as your England burns.
ARTHUR
Though Britain joys first peace sith Roman days,
And harvests more can feed each mewling babe,
Though churches toll and tithe, and stalls33 are full,
Though our court’s glories ring to Muscovy,
Barbarians flow across the land like rats,
For Mordred, goat o’the moors, doth fear not me.
I’ll open up that cur from throat to paunch—
Might we in France an ally find?
GLOUCESTER
Sure not.
Not when their offered love was cast away
And you must wed where no alliance was.
ARTHUR
What game is this? Why come they yet again?
CUMBRIA
Your prideful realm is built on women’s dreams.
Surprised are you this peace lasts but a day?
That on our shores again these devils wash?
Beshrew34 the tide that does not plaud35 your court!36
There never will be day until the last,
Without some foeman come t’unsheathe his sword.
There’s only war. ’Tis man’s inheritance.
No peace, but now and then an instant’s breath
Made sweeter still by certain brevity.
’Twas this your father Uter taught to me.
ARTHUR
He taught me nought, nor this nor other words.
As Mordred makes us beg that is our right,
What ransom must we pay the proditor?37
What treasure yield to purchase love from him?
GLOUCESTER
No golden-fingered Croesus38 holds such sums.
ARTHUR
Then what? Is’t land he crave or privilege?
I’ll grant he is the Soldan of the Turks39
Or Duke of Africa.
CUMBRIA
Or Prince of Wales.
ARTHUR
What sense is here?
CUMBRIA
There is no prince, no heir.
ARTHUR
The queen is bursting ripe with coming child.
CUMBRIA
The queen has lost two breathless bloody heirs,
And may yet many false conceptions40 shed.
This Mordred knows. In change for his sworn arms,
Entail41 to him your throne upon your death,
Conditionally42 no natural heir is born
By this or any queen your highness takes.
CORNWALL
Or any? Cumbria, I’ll snap thy bones.
Cod up thy will43 and tame thy serpent’s tongue.
ARTHUR
Thy care of queen is brotherly, my earl,
But hear with no more passion than a luce44
What wisdom here conceiveth: Mordred sure
Doth take me as my family’s dockèd tail.45
If for some mouth-made46 words he takes our part,
And after is my heir safe-born, what harm?
Thereafter I shall act my father’s rate47
And ready me eternally for war.
Go, smooth your sister’s mind of what we do.
It is a devil’s chance to play a kingdom
On th’unproofed vigor48 of an unborn prince!
Bold Cumbria, raise up what force we have,
And Gloucester, send our word to Mordred’s court.
Invite our momentary49 son and heir
To ride with us most lovingly to war.
Exeunt
[ACT IV,] SCENE II
[Location: The Queen’s Chamber, London]
Queen solus [very pregnant]
GUENHERA
Is no one waiting?
Enter Nurse
NURSE
Majesty, you called?
GUENHERA
Is there no word from Linmouth? Of the king?
NURSE
There’s nothing, madam. Have you any wish?
The pain’s come? Will you I should call the wife?1
GUENHERA
I have no word of my own battleground,
No more than aught we learn of Saxon wars.
Come, press my back.
NURSE
Aye, sit.
GUENHERA
Nay, standing’s best.
NURSE
As comfort bids you, that’s the way.
GUENHERA
O! O!
I cannot stand with ease.
NURSE
As lief2 you’d sit.