Hu.0001_SD

CERTAINEDeuiſesand ſhewespreſented toherMAIESTIEbythe Gentlemen ofGrayes-Inneat her HighneſſeCourt inGreenewich,thetwenty eighth day ofFebruariein the thirtieth yeare of her MAIESTIES moſthappy Raigne.ATLONDONPrintedby Robert Robinſon.1587.

Anintrodvction penned by Nicolas Trotte Gentleman one of the ſocietyof Grayes-Inne; which was pronounced in manner following. viz. ThreeMuſes came vpon the Stage apparelled accordingly bringing fiueGentlemen Students with them attired in their vſuall garments, whomone of the Muſes preſented to her MAIESTIE as Captiues: the cauſewhereof ſhe deliuered by ſpeach as followeth.

OfConqueſt (gratious Queene) the ſigns & fruits,
Atchiu’dgainſt ſuch, as wrongfully withheld
The ſeruice by choicewits to Muſes due;
In humblieſt wiſe, theſe Captiues wepreſent.
And leaſt your highnes might ſuſpect the gift
Asſpoile of Warre, that Iuſtice might impeach;
Heare anddiſcerne how iuſt our quarrell was
Auowed (as you ſee) bygood ſucceſſe.
A Dame there is, whom men Aſtreaterme,
Shee that pronounceth Oracles of Lawes,
Who toprepare fit ſeruants for her traine
As by Commiſſion takes vpflowring wits,
Whom firſt ſhe ſchooleth to forget andſcorne
The noble skils of language and of Arts,
Thewiſedome, which diſcourſe of ſtories teach,
The ornamentswhich various knowledge yeelds;
But Poeſie ſhe hath in moſtdiſdaine,
And Marſhals it next Follyes ſcorned place.
Then,when ſhe hath theſe worthy Prints defac’d
Out of the mindsthat can endure her hand,
What doth ſhe then ſupplie in ſteedeof theſe?
Forſooth ſome olde reports of alteredlawes,
Clamors of Courts, and cauils vpon words,
Groundswithout ground, ſupported by conceit,
And reaſons of moreſubtiltie then ſenſe,
What ſhall I ſay of Moote pointsſtraunge, and doubts
Still argued but neuer yet agreed?
Andſhee, that doth deride the Poets lawe,
Becauſe he muſt hiswords in order place,
Forgets her formes of pleading morepreciſe,
More bound to words then is the Poets lore:
Andfor theſe fine conceits ſhe fitly choſe,
A tongue thatBarbariſme it ſelfe doth vſe.
We noting all theſe wrongsdid long expect
There hard condition ^wouldhaue made them wiſe,
To offer vs their ſeruiſe plac’d ſoill,
But finding them addicted to their choyce,
Andſpecially deſirous to preſent
You Maieſtie with fruits ofProuince newe,
Now did reſolue to double force and skill,
Andfound and vſde the vantage of the time,
Surpriſde their fort,and tooke them Captiues all.
So now ſubmiſſe, as to theirſtate belongs
They gladly yeelde their homage longwithdrawne,
And Poetry which they did moſt contemne
Theyglory now her fauours for to weare.
Myſiſters laught to ſee them take the penne,
And loſe theirwits all in vnwoonted walkes.
But to your highnes that delightwe leaue,
To ſee theſe Poets newe their Stile aduaunce.
Suchas they are, or naught or litle worth,
Deigne to accept, andtherewith we beſeech,
That nouelty giue price to worthleſſethings.

Vntothis ſpeach one of the Gentlemen anſwered as followeth.

Ladies vnacquaint with cunning reach,
And eaſlyled to glory in your powre,
Hearenow abaſhtour late diſſembled minds.
Not now the firſttime as your ſelues beſt knowe.
Ye Muſes ſought our ſeruiceto commaund,
Ofthaue ye wandred from Pernaſſushill,
Andſhewedyour ſelues with ſweet & tempting grace,
Butyet returnd your traine encreaſdewith fewe.
This reſolution doth continue ſtill.
VntoAſtreasname we hounour beare,
Whoſeſound perfections we doe more admire,
Then all the vanted ſtoreof Muſes guifts.
Let this be one (which laſt you put invre,
In well deprauing that deſerueth praiſe)
Noeloquence, diſguiſing reaſons ſhape,
NorPoetrie, each vaine affections nurce,
No various hiſtoriethat doth leade the minde
Abroad to auncient tales from inſtantvſe,
Nor theſe,nor other moe, too long to note,
Canwinne Aſtreasſeruantsto remoue
Their ſeruice, once deuote to better things.
Theywith attentiue mindes and ſeriouswits,
Reuolue records of deepe Iudiciall Acts,
They waigh withſteaddyand indifferent hand
Each word of lawe, each circumſtance ofright,
They hold the grounds which time & vſe hathſooth’d
(Though ſhallow ſenſe conceiue them asconceits)
Preſumptuous ſenſe, whoſe ignorance dare iudge
Ofthings remou’d by reaſonfrom her reach.
One doubt in mootes by argumentencreaſc’d
Clearesmany doubt^s,experience doth obiect.
The language ſhefirſt choſe, and ſtill retaines,
Exhibitesnaked truth in apteſttermes.
Our Induſtrie maintaineth vnimpeach’t
Prerogatiueof Prince, reſpectto Peeres,
TheCommons libertie, and each mans right:
Suppreſſethmutin force, and prackticke fraude.
Things that for worth ourſtudious care deſerue.
Yet neuer did we baniſh norreiect
Thoſe ornaments of knowledge nor of toungs.
Thatſlander enuious ignorance did raiſe.
With Muſes ſtill weentercourſe allowe,
T'enrich our ſtate with all there forreinefraight:
But neuer homage nor acknowledgement
Such as ofSubiects alleageance doth require.
Now heere the cauſe of yourlate Conqueſt wonne
We had diſcouered your intent to be
(Andſure ye. Ladies are not ſecrete all
Speach and not ſilence isthe Muſes grace)
We well perceiu’d (I ſay) your minde tobe
T'imploy ſuch priſoners, as themſelues did yeeld
Toſerue a Queene, for whom her pureſt gold
Nature refind, thatſhe might therein ſette
Both priuate and imperiall vertuesall.
Thus (Soueraigne Lady of our lawes and vs)
Zeale maytranſforme vs into any ſhape.
We, which with trembling handthe penne did guide
Neuer well pleaſde all for deſire topleaſe
For ſtill your rare perfections did occurre
Whichare admir’d of Muſes and of men
Oh with howe ſteddie handand heart aſſur’d
Should we take vp the warlicke Lance orSword
With minde reſolu’d to ſpend our loyall blood
Yourleaſt commaund with ſpeede to execute.
O that before our timethe fleeting ſhippe,
Ne’r wandred had in waterywildernes,
That we might firſt that venture vndertake
Inſtrange attempt t’approue our loyall hearts.
Be it Souldiers,Seamen, Poets, or what els.
In ſeruice once inioynd, to readymindes
Our want of vſe ſhould our deuoyer encreaſe.

ſincein ſteade of art we bring but zeale,
In ſteade of prayſe wehumbly pardon craue.
The matter which we purpoſe topreſent,
Since ſtreights of time our liberty controwles
Intragike note the plagues of vice recounts.
How ſutes a Tragediefor ſuch a time?
Thus. For that ſince your ſacred Maieſtie
Ingratious hands the regall Scepter held
AllTragedies are fled from State, to ſtadge.

Trotte.

Themiſfortunes of Arthur (VtherPendragons Sonne)reducedinto Tragicall notes by THOMASHVGHES oneof the ſocietieofGrayes-Inne.Andhere ſet downe as it paſtfromvnder his handes and as it was preſented, excepting certaine wordesand lines, where ſomeofthe Actors either helped their memories by brief omiſſion: orfitted their acting by ſome alteration. With a note in the end^e,of ſuch ſpeaches as were penned by others in lue of ſome of theſehereafter following.

argument of the Tragedie.

ATa banquet made by VtherPendragonfor the ſolemniſingof his conquest against the Saxons, he fell inamoured with Igernawifeto GorloisDukeofCornwell.Who perceiuing the Kings paſſion,departed with his wife and prepared warres at Cornwell,where alſo in a ſtrong holde beyond him hee placed her Thenthe King leuied an armye to ſuppreſſe him, but waxing impatient ofhis desſire to Igerna,tranſformed himſelfe by Merlinhiscunning, into the likeneſſe of Gorlois,Andafter his acceptance with Igernahereturned to his ſiedge, where he ſlewGorlois.Igernawas deliuered of Arthurand Annetwins of the ſame birth. VtherPendragon15. yeres after purſuing the Saxonswas by them poyſoned. Arthurdelightedin his ſiſter Anne,who made him father of Mordred.Seuenteene yeres after LuciusTiberius ofRomedemandeda tribute due by the conqueſt of Cæſar.Arthurgathered the powers of 13. Kinges beſides his owne, and leauing hisQueene Gueneuora in the tuition of Mordred,to whome likewiſe he committed the kingdome in his abſence, arriuedat Fraunce,where after 9. yeares warres, he ſent the ſlaine bodie of TiberiusvntoRomefor the tribute. During this abſence Mordredgrew ambicious, for th’efffecting whereof he made loue toGueneuora,who gaue ^earevnto him. Then by th’aſſiſtance of Gillaa BrittishLord hee vſurped, and for maintenance entertayned with largepromiſes, the Saxons,Irish,Pictes,& Normands.Gueneuorahearing that Arthurwas alreadie embarked for returne, through diſpaire purpoſingdiuerſly, ſometimes to kill her husband, ſometimes to kill herſ^elfe,at laſt reſolued to enter into religion. Arthurat his landing was reſiſted on the ſtronds of Douer,where he put Mordredtoflight. The laſt fielde was fought at Cornwell,where after the death of one hundred and tweentie thouſand ſauingon either ſide 20, Mordredreceiued his death, and Arthurhisdeadly wound.

Argument and manner of the firſtdumbe ſhewe.

Soundingthe musicke, there roſe three furies from vnder the ſtageapparelled accordingly with ſnakes and flames about their blackehaires and garments. Thefirst with a Snake in the right hande and a cup of wine with a Snakeathwart the cup in the left hand. The ſecondwith a firebrand in the right hande, and a Cupidin theleft: The thirde with a whippe in the right hande and a Pægaſusinthe left. Whiles they went masking about the ſtage,there came from another place three Nunswhichwalked by them ſelues.Then after a full ſightgiuen to the beholders, they all parted, the furies to Mordredshouſe,the Nunsto the Cloiſter. By the first furie with theSnake and Cup was ſignifiedthe Banquet of VtherPendragon,and afterward his death which inſued by poyſoned cup. The ſecondfurie with her firebrand & CupidrepreſentedVthersvnlawfullheate and loue conceyued at the banquet, which neuerceaſedin his poſteritie. By the third with her whip and Pægaſuswasprefigured the crueltieand ambition which thence inſuedand continued to th’effecting of this tragidie. Bythe Nunswas ſignifiedthe remorſe and diſpaire of Gueneuora,thatwanting other hopetooke a Nunrie for her refuge.After their departure, the fowre which repreſentedtheChorustooketheir plac^es.

Theargument of the first Act.

1IN the firſt ſcene the ſpirit ofGorloisDukeof Cornwell, the man firſt & moſt wronged in this hiſtoriebeing diſpoild both of Wife, Dukedome and life craueth reuenge fortheſe iniurie^s,denouncing the whole miſfortune inſuing.

2In the ſecond ſcene. GueneuorahearingthatArthurwason Seas returning, deſperately manaceth his death, from which intentſhe is diſſwaded by Fronia,a Lady of her Court & priuie to her ſecretes.

3In the third ſcene Gueneuoraperplexedly mindeth her owne death, whence being diſwaded by herſiſter ſhe reſolueth to enter into Religion.

4In the fourth ſceneMordredgoeth about to perſwade Gueneuorato perſiſt in her loue, but miſſeth thereof: And then is exhortedby Conan(anoble man of Brytain)to reconcile himſelfe to his Father at his comming, but refuſeth ſoto doe and reſolueth to keepe him from landing by battaile.

Thenames of the ſpeakers.

Duke of Cornwalls ghoſt.
Gueneuorathe Queéne.
Fronia a Lady of her trayne.
Angharadſiſterto the Queéne.
Mordredthe Uſurper.
Conana faithfull counſeller.
Nuntiusof Arthurs landing.
The Heralt from Arthur.
Gawin Kingof Albanie.
Gilla: a BrytiſheEarle.
Gillamor king of Ireland.

Duke of Saxonie.

Lorde of the Pictes.

King of great Brytain.

Duke of Cornwall.

King of little Brittaine.

Heralt from Mordred.

King of Denmarke.

King of Norwaye.

number of Souldiers.

of the laſt battell.
Gildas a noble man of Brytain.

CHORVS.

THEFIRST ACT and firſt ſcene.

Gorlois.

GORL.Sincethus through channells blacke of Limbolake,
And deépe infernall floude of Stygianp∞le,
The gaſtly Caron’sboate tranſported backe
Thy ghoſt, from Pluto’spittes and glowming ſhades,
Toformer light once loſtby Deſtniesd∞me:
Whereproude Pendragonbroylde with ſhamefull luſt,
Diſpoyldetheé erſtof wife, of lande, and life:
Nowe (Gorlois)worke thy wiſh,caſthere thy gaule,
Glutte on reuenge: thy wrath abhorrs delayes.
What though (beſidesPendragonspoyſonedend)
Thevile reproch he wrought thee by thy phere,
Through deépeincreaſe of crymes alike is plagude?
And that the ſ^hamethou ſuffredſt for his luſts,
Reboundeth backe, and ſtifelethin his ſtocke?
Yet is not miſchiefe’s meaſure allfulfilde,
Nor wreake ſufficient wrought: Thy murtheredcorſe
And Dukedome reft, for heauier vengeance cries.
Come therefore bl∞mes of ſetled miſchiefes r∞te,
Come echthing elſe, what furie can inuent,
Wreake all at once, infectthe ayre with plagues,
Till badd to worſe, till worſe to worſtbe turnde.
Let miſchiefes know no meane, nor plagues anend.
Let th’ofſprings ſinne exceéde the former ſtocke:
Letnone haue time to hate his former fault,
But ſtill with freſhſupplie let puniſht cryme
Increaſe, till tyme it make acomplet ſinne.
Goe to: ſome fact, which no age ſhallallowe,
Nor yet conceale: ſome fact muſt neédes bedarde,
That for the horror great and outrage fell
Thereof,may well beſeeme Pendragonsbr∞de.
And firſt, whiles Arthursnauies homewards flott
Triumphantly bedeckt with Romaineſpoyles:
Let Guenouerexpreſſe what franticke m∞des
Diſtract a wife, whenwronging wedlockes rights,
Both fonde and fell, ſhe loues andloathes at once.
Let deépe diſpaire purſue, till loathinglife
Her hatefull heade in cowle and cloiſter lurke.
Let traiterous Mordredkeépe his ſire from ſhoare.
Let Bryttainereſt a pray for forreine powers,
Let ſworde and fire ſtillfedde with mutuall ſtrife
Tourne all the Kings to ghoaſtes,let ciuill warres
And diſcorde ſwell till all the realme betorne.
Euen in that ſoyle whereof my ſelfe was Duke,
Wherefirſt my ſpowſe Igernabrake her vowe,
Where this vngracious ofſpring was begotte,
InCornwell,there, let Mordredsdeath declare,

LetArthursfatall wounde bewray the wrong,
The murther vile, the rape ofwife and weale,
Wherewith their ſire incenſt both Gods andman:
Thus, thus Pendragonsſeéde ſo ſowne and reapte,
Thus curſed imps, ill borne, andworſe conſum’d,
Shall render iuſt reuenge for parentscrimes,
And penance due t’aſſwadge my ſwelling wrath.
The whiles O Caſſiopæagempright ſigne,
Moſt ſacred ſight, and ſweéte Cœl^eſtiallſtarre,
ThisClymat’sioy, plac’d in imperiall throne
With fragrant Oliue brancheportending peace:
And whoſoe’r beſides ye heauenlypow’rs
(Her ſtately trayne with influence diuine,
Andmilde aſpect all prone to Bryttainesg∞d)
Foreſeé what preſent plagues doe threate this Iſle:
Preuent not this my wreake. For you their reſt’s
A happierage a thouſand yeares to come:
An age for peace, religion,wealth, and eaſe,
When all the world ſhall wonder at yourbliſſe:
That, that is yours. Leaue this to Gorloisghoaſt.
And ſeé where com’s one engine of my hate.
Withmoods and manners fit for my reuenge.

Exit.

Theſecond ſcene.

Gueneuora.Fronia.

GVEN.ANDdares he after nine yeares ſpace returne,
And ſeé her face,whom he ſo long diſdain’de?
Was I then choſe and wedded forhis ſtale,
To l∞ke and gape for his retireleſſeſayles,
Puft backe, and flittering ſpread to euery winde?
O wrong content with no reuenge: ſeeke out
Undared plagues,teach Mordredhow to rage.
Attempt ſome bl∞die, dreadfull, irkeſomefact,
And ſuch as Mordredwould were rather his.
Why ſtayeſt? it muſt be done: letbridle goe,
Frame out ſome trap beyond all vulgarguile,
Beyonde Medea’swiles: attempt ſome fact,
That any wight vnwildie of herſelfe,
That any ſpowſe vnfaithfull to her phere,

Durſteuer attempt in moſt diſpaire of weale.
Spare no reuenge, b’itpoyſon, knyfe, or fire.

FRON.Good Madame, temper theſe outrageous m∞des,
And let not willvſurpe, where wit ſhould rule.

GVEN.The wrath, that breatheth bl∞de, doth loath to lurke.
Whatreaſon moſt with holdes, rage wringes perforce.
I amdiſdainde: ſo will I not be long:
That very houre, that heſhall firſt arriue,
Shall be the laſt, that ſhall aforde himlife.
Though, neither ſeas, nor lands, nor warres abrode

Sufficedfor thy foyle: yet ſhalt thou finde
Farrew∞rſeat home: Thy deépe diſpleaſed ſpowſe.
Whate’r thou haſtſubdude in all thy ſtay,
Thishand ſhallnowe ſubdue: then ſtay thy fill.
What’s this? my mind recoyls, and yrkes theſethreats:
Angerdelayes, my grief gynnes to aſſwage,
Myfurie faintes, and ſacredwedlockes faith
Preſents it ſelfe. Why ſhunſt thou fearefullwrath?
Addcoals a freſhe,preſerue me to this venge.
At leſt exyle thy ſelfe torealms vnknowen,
Andſtealehis wealth to helpe thy baniſht ſtate,
Forflight is beſt.O baſe and hartleſſe feare.
Theft?exyle? flight? all theſemay Fortuneſende
Unſought: but thee beſeémes more high reuenge.
Come ſpitefullfiends, come heapes of furies fell,
Notone, by one, but all at once: my breaſt
Rauesnot inough: it likes me to be filde
Withgreater monſtersyet. My hart doth throbbe:
Myliuer boyles: ſomewhat my minde portendes,
Uncertaynewhat: but whatſoeuer,it’s huge.
So it exceede, be what it will: it’s well.
Omit no plague,and none will be inough.
Wrong cannot be reueng’d, but byexceſſe.

FRON.O ſpare this heate: you yeélde t∞ much to rage,
Y’are t∞vniuſt: is there no meane in wrong?

GVEN.Wrong claymes a meane, when firſtyou offer wronge,
Themeane is vaine, when wrong is in reuenge.
Great harmes cannot behidde, the griefe is ſmall,
Thatcan receaue aduiſe, or rule it ſelfe.

FRON.Hatred concealde doth often happe to hurte,
But once profeſt,it oftner failes reuenge.
Howbetter tho, wert to repreſſeyour yre?
ALadies beſtreuenge is to forgiue.
Whatmeane is in your hate? how much ſoe’r
Youcan inuent, or dare: ſomuch you hate.

GVEN.And would you knowe what meane there is in hate?
Call loue tominde, and ſeéwhat meane is there.
My loue, redoubled loue, and conſtantfaith
Engagedvnto Mordredworkes ſodeépe:

Thatboth my hart and marrow quite be burnt,
And ſynewesdried with force of w∞ntleſſe flames,
Deſireto ioy him ſtill, torments my mynde:
Feareof his want doth add a double griefe.
Loe here the loue, thatſtirresthis meaneleſſe hate.

FRON.Eſchew it farre: ſuch loue impugnes the lawes.

GVEN.Unlawfullloue doth like, when lawfull lothes.

FRON.And is your loue of huſbandequite extinct?

GVEN.Thegreater flame muſtneédes delay the leſſe.
Beſides,his ſore reuenge I greatly feare.

FRON.How can you then attempt a freſh offence?

GVEN.Who can appoint a ſtint to her offence?

FRON.Buthere the greatneſſe of the fact ſhould moue.

GVEN.The greater it, the fitter for my griefe:

FRON.Tokill your ſpowſe?

GVEN.Aſtranger, and a foe.

FRON.Yourleidge and king?

GVEN. Hewants both Realme and Crowne.

FRON.Nature affordesnot to your ſexe ſuch ſtrength.

GVEN.Loue, anguiſh, wrath, will ſoone afforde inough.

FRON.Whatrage is this?

GVEN.Suchas himſelfe ſhall rue.

FRON.Whom Gods doe preſſe inough, will you annoy?

GVEN.WhomGods doe preſſe, they bende: whom man annoyes,
He breakes.

FRON.Yourgriefe is more then his deſertes:
Ech fault requires an equallhate: be not ſeuere,
Where crimes be light: as you haue felt,ſo greéue.

GVEN.And ſeémes it light to want him nine yeare ſpace?
Then to be ſpoild of one I hold more deare?
Thinke all to much, b’itne’r ſo iuſt, that feédes
Continuall griefe: the laſtingwoe is worſt.

FRON.Yet let your highneſſe ſhun theſe deſperate m∞des,
Caſtof this rage, and fell diſpoſed minde.
Put not ſhame quite toflight, haue ſome regard
Both of your ſex, and future fame oflife.
Use no ſuch cruell thoughts, as farre exceéde
Amanly minde, much more a womans hart.

GVEN.Well: ſhame is not ſo quite exiled, but that
I can, and willreſpect your ſage aduiſe.
Your Counſell I accept, giue leauea while,
Till fiery wrath may ſlake, and rage relent.

ExitFRON.

Thethird ſcene.

Gueneuora.Angharat.

GVEN.THEloue, that for his rage will not be rulde,
Muſt be reſtrainde:fame ſhall receiue no foile.
Let Arthurliue,whereof to make him ſure,
My ſelfe will dye, and ſo preuenthis harmes.
Why ſtayeſt thou thus amazde O ſlouthfullwrath?
Mischiefe is meant, diſpatch it on thy ſelfe.

ANGH.Her breaſt not yet appeaſde from former rage
Hathchaungde her wrath, which wanting meanes to worke
An others woe,(for ſuchis furies w∞nt,)
Seékesout his owne, and raues vpon it ſelfe.
Aſſwage (alas) that ouer feruent ire,
Throughto much anger, you offend t∞ much:
Thereby the rather youdeſerueto liue,
Forſeémingworthy in your ſelfe to dye.

GVEN.Death is decreéd: what kinde of death, I doubt:
Whether todround, or ſtifillvp his breath.
Onforcing bloud, to dye with dint of knife.
All hope ofproſperoushap is gone, my fame,
My faith, my ſpouſe: no g∞d is leftvnloſt:
Myſelfeam left, ther’s left both ſeas and lands,
Andſword,and fire, and chaines, and choice of harmes.
O gnawing eaſeleſſegriefe. Who now can heale
Mymaymed minde? it muſtbe healde by death.

ANGH.No miſchiefe muſt be done, whiles I be by,
Orif there muſt,there muſt be more then one.
Ifdeath it be you ſeeke,I ſeéke, it t∞:
Alone you may not die, with me you may.

GVEN.They, that will driue th’unwilling to their death,
Orfruſtrate death in thoſe, that faine would die,
Offend alike.They ſpoile, that b∞teleſſe ſpare.

ANGH.But will my teares and mournings moue you nought?

GVEN.Thenis it beſt to die, when friends doe mourne.

ANGH.Ech where is death: that, fates haue well ordainde,
That ech manmay bereaue himſelfe of life,
But none of death: death is ſoſure a d∞me:
A thouſand ways doe guide vs to our graues.
Who then can euer come t∞ late to that,
Whence, when h’iscome, he neuer can returne?
Or what auailes to haſten on ourends,
And long for that, which deſtenies haue ſworne?
L∞ke backe in time, to late is to repent,
When furious ragehath once cut of the choice.

GVEN.Death is an end of paine,nopaine it ſelfe.
Iſ’t meéte a plague, for ſuch exceſſiuewrong,
Should be ſo ſhort? Soould one ſtroke anſwereall?
And wouldſt thou dye? Well: that contents the lawes,
Whatthen for Arthursire? What for thy fame,
Which thou haſt ſtainde? What for thyſtocke thou ſhamſt?
Not death, nor life alone can giue afull
Reuenge: ioyne both in one. Die: and yet liue·
Wherepaine may not be oft, let it be long.
Seéke out ſomelingering death, whereby, thy corſe
May neither touch the dead,nor ioy the quicke.
Dye: but no common death: paſſe Naturesboundes.

ANGH.Set plaintes aſide, deſpaire yeélds no reliefe.
The more youſearch a wounde, the more it ſtings.

GVEN.When guiltie mindes torment them ſelues, they heale:
Whileswoundes be cur’d, griefe is a ſalue for griefe.

ANGH.Griefe is no iuſt eſteémer of our deédes:
What ſo hath yetbeéne done, proceédes from chaunce.

GVEN.The minde, and not the chaunce, doth make th’unchaſt,

ANGH.Thenis your fault from Fate,you reſt excuſde:
None can be deémed faultie for her Fate.

GVEN.No Fate,but manners fayle, when we offende.
Impute miſhaps to Fates,to manners faultes.

ANGH.Loue is an error, that may blinde the beſt.

GVEN.Amightie error oft hath ſeémde a ſinne.
My death is vowed, anddeath muſt neédes take place.
But ſuch a death, asſtandes with iuſt remorſe:
Death, to the worlde, and to herſlipperie ioyes:
A full deuorce from all this Courtly pompe.

Wheredayly penance done for each offence,
May render due reuenge foreuery wrong.
Which to accompliſh: pray my deéreſtfriends,
That they forthwith attyrde in ſaddeſt guiſe,
Conductme to the Cloiſter next hereby,
There to profeſſe, and torenounce the world.

ANGH.Alas! What change were that, from Kingly r∞ffes
To Cloiſteredcelles? To liue, and die at once?
To want your ſtately troupes,your friends and kinne?
To ſhun the ſhewes and ſights ofſtately Court.
To ſeé in ſort aliue, your Countriesdeath?
Yea, what ſo’er euen Death it ſelfe withdrawes
Fromany els, that life with drawes from you.
Yet ſince yourhighnes is ſo fully bent,
I will obay, the whiles aſſwageyour griefe

Exit.

fourth ſcene.

Mordred.Gueneuora. Conan.

MORD.THEhoure which earſt I always feared moſt,
The certaine ruine ofmydeſperate ſtate,
Is happened now: why turnſt thou (minde) thyback?
Why at the firſt aſſault doeſt thou recoile?
Truſt to’t: the angry Heauens contriue ſome ſpight,
Anddreadfull d∞me, t’augment thy curſed hap.
Oppoſe to echreuenge thy guiltie heade,
And ſhun no paine nor plague fit forthy fact.
What ſhouldſt thou feare, that ſeéſt not whatto hope?
No danger’s left before, all’s at thy backe.
Heſafely ſtands, that ſtands beyond his harmes.
Thine(death) is all, that Eaſt, or Weſt can ſeé,
For theé weliue, our comming is not long,
Spare vs, but whiles we mayprepare our graues,
Though thou wert ſlowe, we haſten of ourſelues.
The houre that gaue, did alſo take our liues:
Noſ∞ner men, then mortall were we borne.
I ſeé mine enddrawes on, I feéle my plagues.

GVEN.Noplague for one ill borne, to dye as ill.

MORD.OQueéne! my ſweéte aſſociate in this plunge,
And deſperateplight, beholde, the time is come,
That either iuſtifies ourformer faults,
Or ſhortly ſets vs freé from euery feare.

GVEN.My feare is paſt, and wedlock loue hath w∞nne.
Retire wethither yet, whence firſt we ought
Not to haue ſtird. Callbacke chaſt faith againe.
The way, that leads to g∞d, isne’r to late:
Who ſo repents, is guiltleſſe of his crimes.

MORD.What meanes this courſe? Is Arthurswedlocke ſafe?
Or can he loue, that hath iuſt cauſe to hate?
That nothing elſe were to be feard:
Is moſt apparant, thathe hates at home,
What e’r he be, whoſe fanſie ſtrayesabroad?
Thinke then, our loue is not vnknowen tohim:
Whereof what patience can be ſafely hopte?
Nor loue,nor ſoueraignetie can beare a peére.

GVEN.Why doſt thou ſtill ſtirre vp my flames delayde?
His ſtrayesand errors muſt not moue my minde.
A law for priuate men bindesnot the King.
What, that I ought not to condemne myliedge,
Nor can, thus guiltie to myne owne offence?
Whereboth haue done amiſſe, both will relent.
He will forgiue, thatneédes muſt be forgiuen.

MORD.A likely thing: your faults muſt make you friends:
What ſetsyou both at odds, muſt ioine you both:
Thinke well he caſtsalready for reuenge,
And how to plague vs both. I know hislaw,
A Iudge ſeuere to vs, milde to himſelfe.
Whatthen auailes you to returne to late,
When you haue paſt tofarre? You feéde vaine hopes.

GVEN.The further paſt, the more this fault is yours:
It ſeru’dyour turne, t’uſurpe your fathers Crowne.
His is the crime,whom crime ſtands moſt in ſteéde.

MORD.They,that conſpire in faults offend a like:
Crime makes them equall,whom it iointly ſtaines.
If for my ſake you then pert∞kemy guilt,
You cannot guiltleſſe ſeéme, the crime was ioint.

GVEN.Well ſhould ſhe ſeéme moſt guiltleſſe vnto theé,
Whate’rſhe be, that’s guiltie for thy ſake.
The remnant of thatſober minde, which thou
Hadſt heretofore nere vanquiſht, yetreſiſts.
Suppreſſe for ſhame that impious mouth ſotaught,
And to much ſkild t’abuſe the wedded bed.
L∞ke backe to former Fates:Troyſtill had ſt∞de,
Had not her Prince made light of wedlockslore.
The vice, that threw downe Troy,doth threat thy Throne:
Take heéde: there Mordredſtands, whence Parisfell. Exit.

CONA.Since that your highnes knowes for certaine truth
What poweryour ſire prepares to claime his right:
It neérely nowconcernes y^outo reſolue
In humblieſt ſort to reconcile your ſelfe
Gainſthis returne:

MORD.will warre.

CONA.that lies in chaunc^e.

MORD.I haue as great a ſhare in chaunce, as he.

CONA.Hiswaies be blinde, that maketh chaunc^ehis guide.

MORD.Whoſe refuge lies in Chaunce,what dares he not? Chance

CONA.Warreswere a crime farre worſe then all the reſt.

MORD.The ſafeſt paſſage is from bad to worſe.

CONA.Thatwere to paſſe t∞ farre, and put no meane.

MORD.He is a f∞le, that puts a meane in crimes.

CONA.Butſword and fire would cauſe a common wound.

MORD.So ſword and fire will often ſeare the ſoare.

CONA.Extremeſtcures muſt not be vſed firſt.

MORD.Indeſperate times, the headlong way is beſt.

CONA.Y’hauemany foes.

MORD.Nomore then faythfull friends.

CONA.Truſtto’t, their faith will faint, whereFortune failes.
Wheremany men pretend a loue to one,
Whoſe power may doe what g∞d,and harme he will:
T'is hard to ſay, which be his faithfullfriends.
Dame Flatterie flitteth oft: ſhe loues and hates
Withtime, a preſent friend an abſent foe.
But yet y’ll hopethe beſt: Euen then you feare
The worſt. Feares follow hopes,as fumes doe flames.
Miſchiefe is ſometimes ſafe: but ne’rſecure:
The wrongfull Scepter’s held with trembling hand.

MORD.Whoſerule wants right, his ſafety’s in his Sword.
For Sword andScepter comes to Kings at once.

CONA.TheKinglieſt point is to affect but right,

MORD.Weakeis the Scepters hold, that ſeékes but right,
The care whereofhath danger’d many Crownes.
As much as water differeth fromthe fire,
So much man’s profit iarres from what is iuſt.
A freé recourſe to wrong doth oft ſecure

Thedoubtfull ſeate, and plucks downe many a foe.
The Sword muſtſeldome ceaſe: a Soueraignes hand
Is ſcantly ſafe, butwhiles it ſmites. Let him
Uſurpe no Crowne, that likes aguiltles life:
Aſpiring power and Iuſtice ſieldagreé.
Healways feares, that ſhames to offer wrong.

CONA.Whatſonne would vſe ſuch wrong againſt his ſire?

MORD.Comeſonne, come ſire, I firſt preferre my ſelfe.
And ſince awrong muſt be, then it excels,
When t’is to gaine a Crowne. Ihate a peére,
I loath, I yrke, I do deteſt a head.
B’itNature,be itReaſon,be it Pride,
Iloue to rule: my minde nor with, nor by,
Nor after any claimes,but chiefe and firſt.

CONA.Yetthinke what fame and grieuous bruits would runne
Of ſuchdiſloyall and vniuſt attempts.

MORD.Fame goe’snot with our Ghoſts, the ſenſeleſſe ſoule
Once gone,neglects what vulgar bruite reports.
She is both light andvaine.

CONAN.Shenoteth though.
Shefeareth States.

CONAN.Shecarpeth ne’r the leſſe.

MORD.She’sſ∞ne ſuppreſt.

CONAN.Asſ∞ne ſhe ſprings againe,

MORD.Toungsare vntamde: andFame isEnuies Dogge,
That abſent barckes, and preſent fawnes asfaſt.
It fearing dares, and yet hath neuer done,
Butdures: though Death redeéme vs from all foes
Beſides, yetDeath redeémes vs not from Toungs.
E’rArthurland,the Sea ſhall bluſh with bl∞d.
And all the Stronds withſmoaking ſlaughters reéke.
Now (Mars)protect me in my firſt attempt.
If Mordredſcape,this Realme ſhall want no warres.

Exeunt.

CHORVS.

1Seé here the drifts of GorloisCorniſh Duke,
And deepe deſire to ſhake his SoueraignesThrone:
How foule his fall, how bitter his rebuke,
Whileswife, and weale, and life, and all be gone?
He now in Helltormented wants that g∞d:
Lo, lo the end of trayterousbones and bl∞d.

2Pendragonbroyldewith flames of filthy fires,
By Merlinsmiſts inioyde Igerna’sbed,
Next ſpoiled Gorloisdoubting his deſires,
Then was himſelfe through force ofpoyſson ſped.
Who ſowes in ſinne, in ſinne ſhall reapehis paine:
The D∞me is ſworne: Death guerdon’s deathagaine.

3WhilesArthurwarres abroade and reapes renowne,
Gueneuorapreferres his ſonnes deſire.
And trayterous Mordredſtill uſurpes the Crowne,
Affording fuell to her quenchleſſefire.
But Death’s t∞ g∞d, and life t∞ ſweéte fortheaſe,
That wanting both, ſhould taſt of neithers eaſe.

4InRomethe gaping gulfe would not decreaſe,
Till Curtiuscorſe had cloſde her yawning iawes:
In Theb’sthe Rotte and Murreine would not ceaſe,
Till Laiusbr∞de had paide for breach of lawes:
In Brytainwarres and diſcord will not ſtent:
Till Vther’sline and offſpring quite be ſpent.

TheArgument of the ſecond Act.

1IN the firſt Scene a Nuntio declareth the ſucceſſe of Arthur*warres in France, and Mordred’s foile that reſiſted his laⁿding.

2In the ſecond Scene Mordred enraged at the ouerthrow, vov**eth aſecond battaile, notwithſtanding Conan’s diſſwaſion ^t*the contrarie.

3In the third Scene Gawin(brother to Mordredby the m^other)with an Heralt from Arthurto imparle of peace, but aft** ſome debate therof peace is reiected.

4In the fourth Scene the King of Ireland& other forrein Princ** aſſure Mordredof their aſſiſtane againſt Arthur.

TheArgument and manner of the ſeconddumbe ſhewe.

WHILESthe Muſicke ſounded there came out of Mordred’shouſ***man ſtately attyred repreſenting a King, who walking once aboutt*** Stage. Then out of the houſe appointed for Arthur,there came thr*** Nymphesapparailedaccordingly, the firſt holding a Cornucopiain her hand, *** ſecond a golden braunch of Oliue, the third aſheaffe of Corne.Theſe orde*** one after another offered theſe preſents to the Kingwho ſcornefully refuſed*** After the which there came a manbareheaded, with blacke long ſhagged haire downe to his ſhoulders,apparailed with an Iriſh iacket and ſhirt, hauing an Iriſh daggerby his ſide and a dart in his hand. Who firſt with a threateningcountenance looking about; and then ſpying the King, did furiouſlychaſe and driue him into Mordredshouſe.The King repreſented Mordred.The three Nympheswith their proffers the treatice of peace, for the which ArthurſentGawinwith an Herault vnto Mordredwhoreiected it: The Iriſh man ſignified Reuenge and Furie whichMordredconceiuedafter his foile on the Shoares, whereunto Mordredheadlongyeeldeth himſelfe.

SECOND act andfirſtScene.

Nuntius.

NVNT.LOhere at length the ſtately type of Troy,
AndBrytainland the promiſt ſeate of Brute,
Decktwith ſo many ſpoyles of conquered Kings.
Haile natiueſoyle, theſe nine years ſpace vnſeéne:
To theé hath longrenowmed Romeat laſt
Held up her hands, bereaft of former pompe.
Butfirſt inflamde with w∞nted valures heate,
Amidſt our ſoreſtſiedge and thickeſt broyles,
She ſtoutly fought, and fiercelywaged warres.
Tiberiuscourage gaue, vpbraiding oft
The Romaneforce, their w∞nted lucke, and long
Retained rule, by warresthroughout the world.
What ſhame it were, ſince ſuch atchiuedſpoiles,
And conqueſts gaind both farre and wide, to want
Ofcourage then, when moſt it ſhould be mou’d.
How Brytaineserſt paide tribute for their peace,
But now rebell, and darethem at their d∞res:
For what was Frauncebut theirs? Herewith incenſt
They fiercely rau’d, and benttheir force a freſh.
Which Arthurſpying, cryed with thundring voyce,
Fye, (Brytaines)fye: what hath bewitcht you thus?
So many Nations foilde, muſtRomansfoile?
What ſlouth is this? Haue you forgot to warre,
Whichne’r knew houre of peace? Turne to your foes,
Where you maybath in bl∞d, and fight your fill.
Let courage worke: what canhe not that dares?
Thus he puiſſant guide in doubtfullwarres,
A ſhamde to ſhun his foes, inflamde his friends.
Then yeélding to his ſtately Stead the raignes,
He furiousdriues the Romaine troupes about:
He plies each place, leaſtFatesmought alter ought,
Purſuing hap, and vrging each ſucceſſe.
Heyeélds in nought, but inſtantly perſiſts
In all attempts,wherein what ſo withſtands
His wiſh, he ioyes to worke a wayby wracke.
And matching death to death, no paſſage ſeekes,
Butwhat deſtruction works, with blade or bl∞d.
He ſcornes theyeelded way, he fiercely raues
To breake and bruſe the rancksin thickeſt throngs,
All headlong bent, and prone to preſentſpoile.
The foes inforc’t withſtand: but muchdiſmaide
They ſenſeleſſe fight, whiles millions loſe theirliues.
At length Tiberius,pierſt with point of ſpeare,
Doth bleéding fall, engoard withdeadly wound.
Hereat the reſt recoile, and headlong flie,
Eachman to saue himſelfe. The battaile quailes
And Brytaineswinne vnto their moſt renowne.
Then Arthurt∞ke Tiberiusbreathleſſe Corſe,
And ſent it to the Senators at Rome,
Withcharge to ſay: This is the tribute due
Which Arthurought, as time hereafter ſerues,
He'il pay the like againe: thewhiles he reſts
Your debtor thus. But O! this ſweéteſucceſſe
Purſu’d with greater harmes, turn’d ſ∞ne toſowre.
For lo: when forreine ſoiles and ſeas werepaſt
With ſafe returne, and that the King ſhould land:
Who,but his onely ſonne (O outrage rare)
With hugie hoaſtwithſt∞de him at the ſhoare?
There were preparde theforreine aides from farre,
There were the borowed powers ofdiuers Kings,
There were our parents, brethren, ſonnes andkinne,
Their wrath, their ire, there Mordredwas thy rage.
Where erſt we ſought abroade for foes tofoile,
Beholde, our Fateshad ſent vs foes vnſought.
When forreine Realmes ſupplantedwant ſupplie:
O bleſſed Home, that hath ſuch b∞nne inſtore.
But let this part of Arthursproweſſelurke,
Nor let it e’r appeare by my report,
Whatmonſtrous miſchiefes raue in ciuill warres.
O rather let dueteares, and waylings want:
Let all in ſilence ſinke, whathence inſu’d.
What beſt deſerueth mention here, isthis:
That Mordredvanquiſht truſted to his flight,
That Arthurech where victor is returnd.
And lo: where Mordredcomes with heauy head,
He wields no ſlender waight that wieldsa Crowne.

Exit.

Theſecond ſcene.

Mordred.Conan.

MORD.Andhath he wonne? Be Stronds & ſhoares poſſeſ^t?
IsMordredfoiled? the realme is yet vnwonne:
And Mordredliues reſeru’d for Arthursdeath:
Well: t’was my firſt conflict: I knew not yet
Whatwarres requir’d: but now my ſword is fleſht,
And taught togoare and bath in hoateſt bl∞de.
Then thinke not Arthurthatthe Crowne is wonne:
Thy firſt ſucceſſe may rue our nextaſſault.
Euen at our next incounter (hap when’twill)
Ivowe by Heauen, by Earth, by Hell, by all,
That either thou, orI, or both ſhall dye.

CONA.Nought ſhoulde be raſhly vowde againſt your ſire.

MORD.Whoſebreaſt is freé from rage may ſ∞ne b’aduiſde.

CONA.The beſt redreſſe for rage is to relent.

MORD.Tisbetter for a King to kill his foes.

CONA.So that the Subiects alſo iudge them foes.

MORD.TheSubiects muſt not iudge their Kings decrees.

CONA.The Subiects force is great.

ARTH.Greater the Kings.

CONA.The more you may, the more you ought to feare.

MORD.Heis a f∞le, that feareth what he may.

CONA.Not what you may, but what you ought is iuſt,

MORD.Hethat amongſt ſo many, ſo vniuſt,
Seékes to be iuſt, ſeékesperill to him ſelfe.

CONA.A greater perill comes by breach of lawes.

MORD.TheLawes doe licence as the Soueraigne liſts.

CONA.Leſt ought he liſt, whom lawes doe licence moſt.

MORD.Imperiallpower abhores to be reſtrainde.

CONA.As much doe meaner r∞ms to be compeld.

MORD.TheFateshaueheau’de and raiſde my force on high.

CONA.The gentler shoulde you preſſe thoſe, that are low.

MORD.Iwould be feard:

CONA.The cauſe why Subiects hate.

MORD.A kingdom’s kept by feare.

CONA.And loſt by hate.
He feares as man himſelfe, whom many feare.

MORD.The timerous Subiect dares attempt no chaundge.

CONA.Whatdares not deſperate dread?

CONA.What torture threats.

CONA.O ſpare, tweare ſaffer to be lou’de.

MORD.As ſafe
To be obaide.

CONA.Whiles you command but well.

MORD.WhereRulers dare commaund but what is well:
Powre is but prayer,commaundment but requeſt.

CONA.If powre be ioynde with right, men muſt obay.

MORD.Mywill muſt goe for right.

CONA.If they aſſent.

MORD.Myſword shall force aſſent:

CONA.No Gods forbid.

MORD.What?ſhall I ſtande whiles Arthurſheads my bloode?
And muſt I yeelde my necke vnto theAxe?
Whom Fatesconſtrayne,let him forgoe his bliſſe:
But he that neédleſſe yeldesvnto his bane,
When he may ſhunne, doth well deſerue tolooſe
The good he cannot vſe: who woulde ſuſtaine
Abaſer life, that may maintaine the beſt?
We cannot part theCrowne: A regall Throne
Is not for two: The Scepter fittes butone.
But whether is the fitter of us two,
That muſt ourſwordes decerne: and ſhortly ſhall.

CONA.How much were you to be renowmed more,
Ifcaſting off theſe ruinous attempts,
You woulde take care howeto ſupplie the loſſe,
Which former warres, and forrainebroyles haue wrought.
Howe to deſerue the peoples heartes withpeace,
With quiet reſt, and deépe deſired eaſe.
Notto increaſe the rage that long hath raignde,
Norto deſtroy the realme, you ſeeke to rule.
YourFather rearde it vp, you plucke it downe.
Youlooſe your Countrey whiles you winne it thus:
To make it yours,you ſtriue to make it none.
WhereKings impoſe too much, the Realme enuies:
Goodwill withdrawes,aſſent becomes but ſlowe.

MORD.The firſtArt in a Kingdome is, to ſcorne
TheEnuie of the Realme. He cannot rule,
Thatfeares to be enuide. What can diuorce
Enuiefrom Soueraigntie? Muſtmy deſerts?
No. Tis my happe that Brytainſerues my ^tourne
Thatfeare of me doth make the Subiects crouch,
Thatwhat they grudge, they do conſtrayned yeeld.
If their aſſentsbe ſlowe, my wrath is ſwift,
Whom fauour failes to bende, letfurie breake.
If they be yet to learne, let terrour teach,
WhatKings may doe, what Subiects ought to beare.
Then is aKingdome at a wiſhed ſtaye,
When whatſoeuer the Souereignewills, or nilles,
Men be compelde as well to praiſe, asbeare,
And Subiects willes inforc'd againſt their willes.

CONA.But who ſo ſeekes true praiſe, and iust renowme,
Woul^drather ſeeke their prayſing heartes, then tongues.

MORD.Tr^uepraiſe may happen to the baſeſt groome,
A forced prayſe tonone, but to a Prince.
I wish that most, that Subiects mostrepine.

CONA.But yet where warres doe threaten your eſtate,
There needethfriendes to fortifie your Crowne.

MORD.Ech Crowne is made of that attractiue moulde,
That of it ſelfeit drawes a full defence.

CONA.That is a iuſt, and no vſupred Crowne.
And better were anexiles life, then thus
Diſloyally to wronge your Sire andLiedge.
Thinke not that impious crimes can proſper long,
Atime they ſcape, in time they be repaide.

MORD.The hugeſt crimes bring beſt ſucceſſe to ſome.

CONA.Thoseſome be rare.

MORD.Whymay not I be rare?

CONA.It was their hap.

MORD.It is my hope.

CONA.Buthope
May miſſe, where hap doth hurle.

MORD.So hap may hit,
Where hope doth aime.

CONAN.But hap is laſt, and rules
The ſtearne.

MORD.Sohope is firſt, and hoiſts the ſaile.

CONA.Yet feare: the firſt and laſt doe ſielde agreé.

MORD.Naydare: the firſt and laſt haue many meanes.
But ceaſe atlength: your ſpeach moleſts me much:
My minde is fixt. GiueMordredleaue to doe,
What Conanneither can allow, nor like.

CONA.But loe an Herault ſent from Arthurshoaſt:
Godsgraunt his meſſage may portend our g∞d.

Thethird ſcene.

Herault.Gawin. Mordred.

HERA.YOURSire (O Prince) conſidering what diſtreſſe,
The Realmeſuſtaines by both your mutuall warres,
Hath ſent your brotherGawinAlbaneKing
Totreate of truce, and to imparle of peace.

MORD.Speake brother: what commaundment ſends my Sire?
Whatmeſſage doe you bring? My life, or death?

GAWI.A meſſage farre vnmeéte, moſt neédefull tho.
The Sirecommaunds not, where the Sonne rebels:
His loue deſcends t∞deépe to wiſh your death.

MORD.And mine aſcends to high to wiſh his life.

GAWI.Yetthus he offreth: though your faults be great,
And moſtdiſloyall to his deépe abuſe:
Yet yeélde your ſelfe: he'ilbe as prone to grace,
As you to ruth: An Uncle, Sire, andLiedge.
And fitter were your due ſubmiſſion done,
Thenwrongfull warres to reaue his right and Realme.

MORD.It is my fault, that he doth want his right:
It is his owne, tovexe the Realme with warres.

GAWI.It is his right, that he attempts to ſeéke:
It is your wrong,that driueth him thereto.

MORD.T’is his inſatiate minde, that is not ſo content,
Which hathſo many Kingdomes more beſides.

GAWI.The more you ought to tremble at his powre.

MORD.Thegreater is my conqueſt, if I winne.

GAWI.The more your foile, if you should hap to l∞ſe.
For Arthursfame, and vallure's ſuch, as you
Should rather imitate, or atthe leaſt
Enuie, if hope of better fanſies failde.
Forwhereas Enuie raignes, though it repines,
Yet doth it feare agreater then it ſelfe.

MORD.He that enuies the valure of his foe,
Detects a want of valurein himſelfe.
He fondly fights, that fights with ſuch afoe,
Where t’were a ſhame to l∞ſe, no praiſe towinne:
But with a famous foe, ſucceéde what will,
Towinne is great renowne, to looſe leſſe foile.
His conqueſts,were they more, diſmaie me not:
The oftner they haue beéne,the more they threat.
No danger can be thought both ſafe, andoft:
And who hath oftner waged warres then he?
Eſcapesſecure him not: he owes the price:
Whom chauncehath often miſt, chauncehits at length
Or, if that Chauncehaue furthered his ſucceſſe,
So may ſhe mine: for Chauncehath made me king.

GAWI.As Chauncehath made you King, ſo Chauncemay change.
Prouidefor peace: that's it the higheſt piers,
Noſtate except, euen Conquerours ought to ſeéke.
Remember Arthursſtrength, his conqueſtes late,
His fierie mynde, his highaſpiring heart.
Marke then the oddes: he expert, you vntried:
He ripe, yougreéne: yeelde you, whiles yet you may,
Hewill not yeelde: he winnes his peace with warres.

MORD.If Chauncemay chaunge, his Chauncewas laſt to winne.
Thelikelier now to l∞ſe: his hautie heart
Andminde I know: I feéle mine owne no leſſe.
As for hisſtrength, and ſkill, I leaue to happe:
Wheremany meéte, it lies not all in one.

Whatthough he vanquiſht haue the Romaine troupes?
Thatb∞tes him not: him ſelfe is vanquiſht here.
Thenwaigh your wordes againe: if Conquerours ought
To ſeéke forpeace: The Conquered muſt perforce.
But he’ill notyeélde, he'il purchaſe peace with warres.
Well: yeelde thatwill: I neither will, nor can:
Come peace, come warres, chuſehim: my danger's his,
His ſaffetie mine, our ſtates doe ſtandealike.
If peace be g∞d, as g∞d for him, as me:
Ifwarres be g∞d, as g∞d for me, as him.

^GAWI.What Curſed warres (alas) were thoſe, wherein
Both ſonne andſire ſhoulde ſo oppoſe themſelues?
Him, whom you nowevnhappie man purſue,
If you ſhould winne, your ſelfe wouldfirſt bewayle.
Giue him his Crowne, to keepe it perill breeds.

MORD.The Crowne Ile keepe my ſelfe: inſue what will:
Death muſt beonce: how ſ∞ne, I leſt reſpect.
He beſt prouides that canbeware in time,
Not why, nor when: but whence, and where hefals.
What f∞le, to liue a yeare or twaine in reſt,
Wouldelooſe the ſtate, and honour of a Crowne?

GAWI.Consider then your Fathers griefe, and want:
Whom you bereaue ofKingdome, Realme, and Crowne.

MORD.Truſtme: a huge and mightie kingdome tis,
To beare the want ofKingdome, Realme, and Crowne.

GAWI.A common want, which woorkes ech worldlings woe,
That many hauetoo much, but none inough.
It were his praiſe, could he be ſocontent,
Which makes you guiltie of the greater wrong.
Wherefore thinke on the doubtfull ſtate of warres,
Where Marshath ſway, he keepes no certayne courſe.
Sometimes he lettesthe weaker to preuaile,
Some times the ſtronger ſtoupes: hope,feare, and rag^e
Witheyleſſe lott rules all, vncertayne good,
Moſt certaineharmes, be his aſſured happes.
No lucke can laſt, nowehere, now their it lights:
No ſtate alike, Chaunceblindly ſnatcheth all,
AndFortunemaketh guiltie whom ſhelistes.

/ORD.Since therefore feare, and hope, and happe in warres
Be allobſcure, till their ſucceſſe be ſeene:
Yourſpeach doth rather driue me on to trie,
And truſt them all,mine onely refuge now.

GAWI.And feare you not ſo ſtrange and vncouth warres?

MORD.No,were they warres that grew from out the ground.

GAWI.Nor yet your ſire ſo huge, your ſelfe so ſmall?

MORD.Theſmallest axe may fell the hugeſt oake.

GAWI.Nor that in felling him, your ſelfe may fall?

MORD.Hefalleth well, that falling fells his foe.

GAWI.Nor common Chancewhereto each man is thrall?

MORD.Smallmanhood were to turne my backe to Chance.

GAWI. Nor that, if Chanceafflict, kings brooke it not?

MORD.Ibeare no breaſt ſo vnpreparde for harmes.
Euen that I holdethe kinglieſt point of all,
To brooke afflictions well: And byhow much
The more his ſtate and tottering Empire ſagges,
Tofixe ſo much the faſter foote on ground.
No feare but doth foreiudge, and many fall
Intotheir Fate,whilesthey doe feare their Fate.
Wherecourage quailes, the feare exceeds the harme,
Yea worſe thanwarre it ſelfe, is feare of warre.

GAWI.Warre ſeemeth ſweete to ſuch as haue not tried:
But wiſedomewils we ſhould forecaſt the worſt.
The end allowes the act:that plot is wiſe,
That knowes his meanes, and leaſt relies onChance.
Eſchuethe courſe where errour lurkes, their growes
But griefe, wherepaine is ſpent, no hope to ſpeed.
Striue not aboue yourſtrength: for where your force
Is ouer matchte with yourattempts, it faints,
And fruitleſſe leaues, what bootleſſeit began.

MORD.All things are rulde in conſtant courſe: No Fate
Butis foreſet, The firſt daie leades the laſt.
No wiſedomethen: but difference in conceit,
Which workes in many men, asmany mindes.
You loue the meane, and follow vertues race:
Ilike the top, and aime at greater bliſſe.
You reſt content,my minde aſpires to more:
In briefe, you feare, I hope: youdoubt, I dare.
Since then the ſageſt counſailes are butſtrifes,
Where equall wits may wreaſt each ſide alike,
Letcounſaile go: my purpoſe muſt proceede:
Each likes hiscourſe, mine owne doth like me beſt.
Wherefore e'r Arthurbreath, or gather strength,
Aſſault we him: leaſt he aſſaultvs firſt.
He either muſt deſtroie, or be deſtroide.
Themiſchiefe's in the midſt: catch he that can.

GAWI.But will no reaſon rule that deſperate minde?

MORD.Aficklemind^ethat euerie reaſon rules.
I reſt reſolu’d: and to my Sireſay thus:
If here he ſtay but threé daies to an end,
Andnot forthwith diſcharge his band and hoaſt,
Tis Mordredsoath: aſſure himſelfe to die.
But if he finde his courage ſoto ſerue,
As for to ſtand to his defence with force:
InCornewa^lleifhe dare, I’le trye it out.

GAWI.O ſtrangecontempt: like as the craggy rocke,
Reſiſts the ſtreames, andflings the waltering waues
A l∞fe, ſo he reiects and ſcornesmy words.

Exit.

fourth ſcene.

Gilla.Gillamor. Cheldrichus. Dux Pictorum. Conan.

LO,where (as they decreéd) my faithfull friends
Haue kept theirtime, be all your powers repaird?

GILLA.Theybe: and all with ardent mindes to Mars,
Theycry for warres, and longing for th’allarme
Euen now they wiſht’incounter with their foes.

MORD.What could be wiſht for more? Puiſſant King.
For your greathelpe and valiant Iriſhforce,
If I obtaine the conqueſt in theſe warres,
Whereasmy father claimes a tribute due
Out of your Realme, I hererenounce it quite.
And if aſſiſtance neéde in doubtfulltimes,
I will not faile to aide you with the like.

GYLL.It doth ſuffice me to diſcharge my Realme,
Or at the leaſt towreke me on my foes.
I rather like to liue your friend andpiere,
Then reſt in Arthurshomage and diſgrace.

MORD.Right noble Duke, through whom the Saxonsvow^e
Theirliues with mine, for my defence in warres:
If we preuaile andmay ſubdue our foes:
I will in liew of your ſo highdeſerts,
Geue you and yours all Brytiſhlands that lie
Betweéne the floud of Humber,andthe Scottes,
Beſidesas much in Kentas Horſusand
Hengiſtushad,when Vortigernwas King.

CHEL.Your gracious proffers I accept with thankes,
Not for the gaine,but that the g∞d deſire
I haue henceforth to be your ſubiecthere,
May thereby take effect: which I eſteeme
More thenthe rule I beare in Saxonſoile.

MORD.(Renowmed Lord) for your right hardy Picts,
Andchoſen warriers to maintaine my cauſe,
If our attempts receiuea g∞d ſucceſſe,
The AlbaneCrowne I giue to you and yours.

PICT.Your highnes bountie in ſo high degreé,
Were cauſe inough tomoue me to my beſt.
But ſure your ſelfe, without regard ofmeede,
Should finde both me and mine at your commaund.

MORD.Lord Gilla,ifmy hope may take ſucceſſe,
And that I be thereby vndoubtedKing,
The CorniſhDukedome I allot to you.

GILLA.My Liedge to further your deſir’d attempts,
I ioyfully ſhallſpend my deareſt bl∞d.
The rather, that I found the Kingyour Sire
So heauy Lord to me, and all my ſtocke.

MORD.Since then our reſt is on’t, and we agreéd
To warre it out:what reſteth now but blowes?
Driue Deſtnies on with ſwords,M^arsframesthe meanes,
Henceforth what Mordredmay, now lies in you.
Ere long if Marsinſue with g∞d ſucceſſe,
L∞ke whatſoe’r it be, thatArthurclaimes,
By right, or wrong, or conqueſts gaind with blood,
InBrytaine,or abroade is mine to giue.
To ſhewe I would haue ſaid: Icannot giue,
What euery hand must giue vnto it ſelfe.
Whereofwho liſts to purchaſe any ſhare,
Now let him ſeeke and winneit with his Sword:
The Fateshaue laide it open in the field.
What Starres (O Heauens) orPoles, or Powers diuine
Doe graunt ſo great rewards for thoſethat winne?
Since then our common good, and ech manscare
Requires our ioint aſſiſtance in theſe toyles:
Shallwe not hazard our extreameſt hap,
And rather ſpend our Fates,then ſpare our foes?
The cauſe, I care for moſt, ischiefely yours:
This hand and hart ſhall make mine owneſecure.
That man ſhall ſeé me foiled by my ſelfe,
Whate’r he be, that ſeés my foe vnfoilde.
Feare not thefeild becauſe of Mordredsfaults,
Nor ſhrinke one iotte the more for Arthursright.
Fullſafely Fortuneguideth many a guilt,
And Fateshaue none but wretches whom they wrenche.
Wherefore makeſpeéde to cheare your Souldiers harts,
That to their fires youyet may adde more flames.
The ſide that ſeékes to winne inciuill warres,
Muſt not content it ſelfe with woonted heate.

omnes preter Mordred & Conan.

CONA.WouldGod your highnes had beéne more aduiſde,
Ere too much will haddrawen your wits too farre:
Then had no warres indangerd you,nor yours,
Nor Mordredscauſerequired forreine care.

MORD.A troubled head: my minde reuolts to feare,
And beares my bodybacke: I inwards f^eélemy fall.
My thoughts miſgeue me much: downe terror: I
Perceiuemine ende: and deſperate though I muſt
Deſpiſe Diſpaire,and ſomewhat hopeleſſe hope.
The more I doubt, the more Idare: by feare
I finde the fact is fitteſt for my fame.
What though I be a ruine to the Realme,
And fall my ſelfetherewith? No better end.
His laſt miſhaps doe make a manſecure.
Such was King Priamsende,who, when he dyed,
Cloſde and wrapt vp his Kingdome in hisdeath.
A ſolemne pompe, and fit for Mordredsminde,
Tobe a graue and tombe to all his Realme. Exeunt.

1YePrincely Peéres extold to ſeates of State,
Seéke not thefaire, that s∞ne will turne to fowle:
Oft is the fall ofhigh and houering Fate,
Andrare the r∞me, which time doth not controwle.
The ſafestſeate is not on higheſt hill,
Where windes, and ſtormes,and thunders thumpe their ill.
Farre ſafer were to followſound aduiſe,
Then for ſuch pride to pay ſo deare aprice.

2The mounting minde that climes the hauty cliftes,
And ſoaringſeékes the tip of lofty type,
Intoxicats the braine withguiddy drifts,
Then rowles, and reéles, and falles at lengthplum ripe.
Loe: heauing hie is of ſo ſmall forecaſt,
To totter firſt, and tumble downe at laſt.
Yet Pægaſusſtill reares himſelfe on hie,
And coltiſhly doth kickethe cloudes in Skie.

3Who ſawe the griefe engrauen in a Crowne,
Or knew the bad andbane whereto it's bound:
Would neuer ſticke to throwe andfling it downe,
Nor once vouchſafe to heaue it from theground.
Such is the ſweéte of this ambitious powre,
No ſ∞ner had, then turnde eftſ∞nes to ſowre:
Atchieu'd with enuie, exerciſde with hate,
Garded withfeare, ſupported with debate.

4 O reſtleſſe race of high aſpyring head,
O worthleſſerule both pittyed and inuied:
How many Millions to theirloſſe you lead:
With loue and lure of Kingdomes bliſſevntryed?
So things vntaſted cauſe a quenchleſſe thirſt,
Which, were they knowne, would be refuſed firſt,
Yea,oft we ſeé, yet ſeéing cannot ſhonne
The fact, we findeas fondly dar'd, as donne.

Theargument of the third Act.

1IN the firſt Scene Cadorand Howellincite and exhort Arthurvnto warre: Who mooued with Fatherly affection towards his ſonne,notwithſtanding their perſwasions reſolueth vpon peace.

2In the ſecond Scene, an Herault is ſent from Mordredto commaund Arthurto diſcharge his armies vnder paine of death, or otherwiſe if hedare, to trie it by Battaile.

3In the third Scene Arthurcalleth his Aſſiſtants and Souldiers together, whom he exhortethto purſue their foes.

4In the fourth Scene Arthurbetween griefe and deſpaire reſolueth to warre.

TheArgument and manner of the thirddumbe ſhewe.

Dvringthe Muſicke after the ſecond Act. There came vppon the ſtage twogentlemen attyred in peaceable manner, which brought with them aTable, Carpet, and Cloth: and then hauing couered the Table theyfurniſht it with incenſe on the one ende, and banqueting diſhes onthe other ende: Next there came two gentlemen apparelled likeSouldiers with two naked Swordes in their hands, the which they laidea croſſe vpon the Table. Then there came two ſumptuously attyredand warrelike, who, ſpying this preparation ſmelled the incenſeand taſted the banquet. During the which there came a Meſſengerand deliuered certaine letters to thoſe two that fedde on thedaineties: who, after they had well viewed and peruſed the letters,furiouſly flung the banquet vnder feete: and violently ſnatchingthe Swordes vnto them, they haſtily went their way. By the firſttwo that brought in the banquet was meant the ſeruaunts of Peace, bythe ſecond two were meant the ſeruaunts of Warre: By the two laſtwere meant Arthurand Cador,By the Meſſenger and his Letters was meant the defiance fromMordred.

THETHIRD ACT and Fyrſteſcene.

Arthur.Cador. Howell.

^ARTH.ISthis the welcome that my Realme prepares?
Be theſe thethankes I winne for all my warres?
Thus to forbid me land?to ſlaie my friends?
To make their bloud diſtaine my Countrieſhoares?
My ſonne (belike) leaſt that our force ſhouldfaint
For want of warres, preparde vs warres himſelfe.
Hethought (perhaps) it mought empaire our fame,
If none rebeld,whoſe foile might praiſe our power.
Is this the fruit ofMordredsforwardyouth,
And tender age diſcreet beyond his yeres?
O falſeand guilfull life, O craftie world:
How cunningly conuaieſtthou fraude vnſeene?
Thambicious ſeemeth meeke, the wantonchaſt,
Diſguiſed vice for vertue vants it ſelfe.
Thus (Arthur)thushath Fortuneplaid her part,
Blinde for thy weale, cleare ſighted for thywoe.
Thy kingdome's gone, thy phere affordes no faith,
Thyſonne rebels, of all thy wonted pompe
No totis left, and Fortunehides her face.
No place is left for proſperous plight,miſhaps
Haue roome and waies to runne and walke at will.
Lo (Cador)both our ſtates, your daughter's truſt,
My ſonn's reſpect,our hopes repoſde in both.

^CADO.The time (puiſſant Prince) permits not now
To moane ourwrongs, or ſearch each ſeuerall ſore.
Since Arthurthus hath ranſackt all abroade,
What meruaile ist, if Mordredraue at home?
When farre and neere your warres had worne theworld,
What warres were left for him, but ciuill warres,
All which requires reuenge with ſword and fire,
And to purſueyour foes with preſence force.
In iust attempts Marsgiues a rightfull doome.

ARTH.Nay rather (Cador)letthem runne their race,
And leaue the Heauens reuengers of mywrong.
Since Brytainesproſperousſtate is thus debaſde
In ſeruile ſort to Mordredscurſed pride,
Let me be thrall, and leade a priuate life:
Nonecan refuſe the yoake his Countrie beares.
But as for warres,inſooth my fleſh abhorres,
To bid the battayle to my properbloud.
Great is the loue, which nature doth inforce
Fromkin to kin, but moſt from ſire to ſonne.

HOWE.The noble necke diſdaines the ſeruile yoke,
Where rule hathpleaſde, ſubiection ſeemeth ſtrange.
A King ought alwaies topreferre his Realme,
Before the loue he beares to kin or ſonne.
Your Realme deſtroide is neere reſtord againe,
But time mayſend you kine and ſonnes inough.

ARTH.How hard it is to rule th'aſpiring minde,
And what a kinglypoint it ſeemes to thoſe,
Whoſe Lordlie hands the ſtatelyScepter ſwaies,
Still to purſue the drift they firſtdecreed:
My wonted minde and kingdome lets me know.
Thinke not, but if you driue this hazard on,
He deſperate willreſolue to winne or die:
Whereof who knowes which were thegreater guilt,
The ſire to ſlaie the ſonne, or ſonne theſire.

CADO.If bloudie Marsdoeſo extreamly ſwaie,
That either ſonne or ſire muſt needs beſlaine,
Geue Lawe the choice: let him die that deſerues.
Eachimpotent affection notes a want.
No worſe a vice thenlenitie in Kings,
Remiſſe indulgence ſoone vndoes aRealme.
He teacheth how to ſinne, that winkes at ſinnes,
Andbids offend, that ſuffereth an offence.
The onely hope of leaueincreaſeth crimes,
And he that pardoneth one, emboldneth all
Tobreake the Lawes. Each patience foſtereth wrongs.
But viceſeuerely puniſht faints at foote,
And creepes no further off,then where it falls.
One ſower example will preuent morevice,
Than all the beſt perſwasions in the world.
Roughrigour lookes out right, and ſtill preuailes:
Smooth mildneſſelookes too many waies to thriue.
Wherefore ſince Mordredscrimeshaue wrongd the Lawes
In ſo extreame a ſort, as is ^t∞ſtrange:
Let right and iuſtice rule with rigours aide,
Andworke his wracke at length, although too late:
That damningLawes, ſo damned by the Lawes,
Hee may receiue his deepedeſerued doome.
So let it fare with all, that dare thelike:
Let ſword, let fire, let torments be their end.
Seueritievpholds both Realme and rule.

ARTH.Ah too ſeuere, farre from a Fathers minde.
Compaſſion is asfit for Kings as wrath.
Lawes muſt not lowre. Rule oftadmitteth ruthe.
So hate, as if there were yet cauſe toloue:
Take not their liues as foes, which may be friends.
Toſpoile my ſonne were to diſpoile my ſelfe:
Oft, whiles weſeeke our foes, we ſeeke our foiles.
Let's rather ſeeke howto allure his minde
With good deſerts: deſerts may winne theworſt.

HOWE.Where Catofirſt had ſaued a theefe from death,
And after was himſelfecondemnd to die:
When elſe not one would execute the doome,
Whobut the theefe did vndertake the taſke?
If too much bountieworke ſo bad effects
In thankleſſe friends, what for aruthleſſe foe?
Let Lawes haue ſtill their courſe, the illdiſpoſde
Grudge at their liues, to whom they owe too much.

ARTH.But yet where men with reconciled mindes
Renue their loue withrecontinued grace,
Attonement frames them friends of formerfoes,
And makes the moodes of ſwelling wrath to ſwage.
Nofaſter friendſhip, than that growes from griefe,
When meltingmindes with mutuall ruth relent.
How cloſe the ſeuered ſkinnevnites againe,
When ſalues haue ſmoothlie heald the formerhurts?

CADO.I neuer yet ſawe hurt ſo ſmoothly heald,
But that the ſkarrebewraid the former wound:
Yea, where the ſalue did ſooneſtcloſe the ſkinne,
The ſore was oftner couered vp thancur'de.
Which feſtering deepe and filde within, at laſt
Withſodaine breach grew greater than at firſt,
What then formindes, which haue reuenging moodes,
And ne'r forget the croſſethey forced beare?
Whereto if reconcilement come, it makes
Thet'one ſecure, whiles t'other workes his will.
Attonementſield defeates, but oft deferres
Reuenge: beware a reconciledfoe.

ARTH.Well, what auailes to linger in this life,
Which Fortunebut reſerues for greater griefe?
This breath drawes on butmatter of miſhap:
Death onely frees the guiltleſſe fromanoies.
Who ſo hath felt the force of greedie Fates,
Anddur'de the laſt decree of griſlie death,
Shall neuer yeeld hiscaptiue armes to chaines,
Nor drawne in triumph decke thevictors pompe.

HOWE.What meane theſe wordes? Is Arthurforc'de to feare,
Is this the fruit of your continuallwarres,
Euen from the firſt remembrance of your youth?

ARTH.My youth (I graunt) and prime of budding years
Puft vp withpride and fond deſire of praiſe,
Foreweéning nought whatperils might enſue,
Aduentured all, and raught to will theraignes.
But now this age requires a ſager courſe,
Andwill aduiſde by harmes to wiſedome yeélds.
Thoſe ſwellingſpirits the ſelfe ſame cauſe which firſt
Set them on gog,euen Fortunesfauours quaild.
And now mine oftneſt ſkapes doe ſkare memoſt,
I feare the trappe, whereat I oft haue tript:
Experiencetels me plaine that Chanceis fraile,
And oft, the better paſt, the worſe to come.

CADO.Reſiſt theſe doubts: tis ill to yeeld to harmes.
T’isſafeſt then to dare when moſt you feare.

ARTH. As ſafe ſometimes to feare, when moſt we dare.
Acauſeleſſe courage giues repentance place.

HOWE.IfFortunefawne.

ARTH.Eachwaie on me ſhe frowns.
For winne I, looſe I, both procure mygriefe.

CADO.Put caſe you winne, what griefe?

ARTH.AdmitI doe,
What ioy?

CADOR.Thenmay you rule.

ARTH.When I may die.

CADO.To rule is much.

ARTH.Small if we couet naught.

CADO.Whocouets not a Crowne.

ARTH.Hethat diſcernes
The ſwoord aloft.

CADOR. Thathangeth faſt.

ARTH.Butby
A haire.

CADOR.Rightholdes it vp.

ARTH.Wrongpuls it downe.

CADO.The Commons helpe the King.

ARTH.They ſometimes hurt.

CADO.Atleast the Peeres.

ARTH.Sield,if allegeance want.

CADO.Yet Soueraigntie.

ARTH.Not, if ſubiection faile.

CADO.Doubenot, the Realme is yours.

ARTH.T'was mine till now.

CADO.And ſhall be ſtill.

ARTH.If Mordredliſt.

CADOR.T’werewell
Your crowne were wonne.

ARTH.Perhapstis better loſt.

/OWE.The name of rule ſhould moue a princely minde.

/RTH.Truſtme, bad things haue often glorious names.

/OWE.The greatestgood that Fortunecan affoord.

ARTH.Adangerous good that wiſedome would eſchue.

HOWE.Yet waigh the heareſaie of the olde renowme,
And Famethe Wonderer of the former age:
Which ſtill extolls the factsof worthyeſt wights,
Preferring no deſerts before yourdeeds.
Euen ſhe exhorts you to this new attempts,
Whichleft vntryde your winnings be but loſſe.

ARTH.Small credit will be giuen of matters paſt
To Fame,theFlatterer of the former age.
Were all beleeu’d which antiquebruite imports,
Yet wiſedome waighes the perill ioinde topraiſe:
Rare is theFame(marke well all ages gone)
Which hath not hurt the houſe itmost enhaun’ſt.
Beſides, Fame’sbut a blaſt that ſounds a while,
And quickely ſtints, andthen is quite forgot.
Looke whatſoe’r our vertues haueatchieu’d,
The Chaosvaſt and greédy time deuours.
To day all Europerings of Arthurspraiſe:
T'wilbeas huſht, as if I ne’r had beéne.
What bootes it then toventure life or limme,
For that, which neédes e’r long weleaue, or looſe,

CADO.Can blinde affection ſo much bleare the wiſe,
Or loue ofgraceleſſe Sonne ſo witch the Sire?
That what concernes thehonour of a Prince
With Countries good and Subiects iuſtrequeſt,
Should lightly be contemned by a King?
WhenLuciusſent but for his tribute due,
You went with thirteéne Kings toroote him out:
Haue Romaines,for requiring but their owne,
Aboad your nine yeares brunts:Shall Mordredſcape,
That wrong’d you thus in honour, Queéne, and Realme?
Were this no cauſe to ſtirre a King to wrath,
Yet ſhouldyour Conqueſts late atchieu’d gainſt Rome
Inflameyour minde with thirſt of full reuenge.

ARTH.Indeéde, continuall warres haue chafte our mindes,
And goodſucceſſe hath bred impatient moodes.
Romepuffes vs vp, and makes vs t∞ t∞ fierce:
There, Brytaines,there we ſtand, whence Romedid fall.
Thou Luciusmak’ſt me proude, thou heau’ſt my minde:
But what? ſhallI eſteéme a Crowne ought elſe,
Then as a gorgeous Creſt ofeaſeleſſe Helme,
Or as ſome brittel mould of gloriouspompe,
Or glittering glaſſe, which, whiles it ſhines, itbreakes?
All this a ſodaine Chauncemay daſh, and not
Perhaps with thirteéne Kings, or in nineyeares:
All may not finde ſo ſlowe and lingring Fates.
What, that my Country cryes for due remorſe
And ſomereliefe for long ſuſtained toyles?
By Seas and Lands I daylywrought her wrecke,
And ſpareleſſe ſpent her life on eueryfoe.
Eche where my Souldiers periſht, whileſt Iwonne:
Throughout the world my Conqueſt was their ſpoile.
A faire reward for all their deaths, for all
Their warresabroad, to giue them ciuill warres.
What bootes it them reſeru'dfrom forreine foiles
To die at home? What ende of rutheleſſerage?
At leaſt let age, and Natureworne to nought,
Prouide at length their graues with wiſhedgroanes.
Pitty their hoary haires, their feéble fiſts,
Theirwithered lims, their ſtrengths conſumde in Campe.
Muſt theyſtill ende their liues amongeſt the blades?
Reſts there noother FatewhilesArthurraignes?
What deéme you me? a furie fedde with blood,
Or ſomeCiclopianborne and bred for braules?
Thinke on the minde, that Arthurbeares to peace:
Can Arthurpleaſe you no where but in warres?
Be witneſſe Heauenshow farre t’is from my minde,
Therewith to ſpoile or ſackemy natiue ſoile:
I cannot yeélde, it brookes not in mybreaſt,
To ſeeke her ruine, whom I erſt haue rulde.
Whatreliques now ſo e’r both ciuill broyles,
And forreine warreshaue left, let thoſe remaine:
Th’are fewe inough, andBrytainesfall too faſt.

Theſecond ſcene.

AnHerault from Mordred.

HOWE.LOhere an Herault ſent from MordredsCampe,
A froward meſſage, if I r^eédearight:
We mought not ſtirre his wrath: perhaps thismay:
Perſwaſions cannot moue a Brytainesm∞de,
And yet none ſ∞ner ſtung with preſent wrong.

HERAV.Haile peéreleſſe Prince, whiles Fortunewould, our King,
Though now bereft of Crowne and formerrule.
Vouchſafe me leaue my meſſage to impart,
No iotteinforſt, but as your Sonne affords.
If here you ſtay butthreé dayes to an ende,
And not forthwith diſcharge your bandsand hoaſt,
Ti’s Mordredsoath: Aſſure your ſelfe to die.
But if you finde your courageſo to ſerue,
As for to ſtand to your defence with force,
InCornewell(if you dare) he’il trye it out.

ARTH.Is this the choyce my Sonne doth ſend his Sire,
And muſt Idie? Or trye it if I dare?
To die were ill, thus to be dar’dis worſe.
Diſplay my ſtandart forth, let Trumpe andDrumme
Call Souldiers nere, to heare their Soueraignes heaſt.

Thethird ſcene.

GawinKing of Albanie. Aſchillus King of Denmarke. King of Norway. Anumber of ^Souldiers.

ARTH.OFriends and fellowes of my werieſt toyles,
Which haue borne outwith me ſo many brunts,
And deſperate ſtormes o^fwars an d brainſicke Mars:
Loenow the hundreth month wherein we winne.
Hath all the bloudwe ſpent in forreine Coaſts,
The wounds, and deaths, andwinters boad abroade,
Deſerued thus to be diſgrac’d athome?
All Brytaineringsof warres: No towne, nor fielde
But ſwarmes with armed troupes:the muſtering traines
Stop vp the ſtreétes: no leſſe atumult’s raiſde,
Then when Hengiſtusfell and Horſusfierce
With treacherous truce did ouerrunne the Realme.
Each corner threatneth Death: both farre and nere
Is Arthurvext. What if my force had faild,
And ſtandarde falne, andenſignes all beene torne,
And Romantroupes purſude me at the heéles,
With luckleſſe warresaſſaid in forreine ſoiles?
Now that our Fortuneheaues vs vp thus hie,
And Heauens themſelues renewe our olderenowme:
Muſt we be darde? Nay, let that Princocke come,
Thatknowes not yet himſelfe, nor Arthursforce,
That ne’r yet waged warres, that's yet to learne
Togiue the charge: Yea let that Princocke come,
With ſodayneSouldyers pampered vp in peace,
And gowned troupes, and wantonsworne with eaſe:
With ſluggiſh Saxonscrewe, and Iriſhkernes,
And Scottiſhaide, and falſe redſhanked Picts,
Whoſeſlaughters yet muſt teach their former foyle.
They ſhallperceaue with ſorrow e’r they part,
When all their toyles betolde, that nothing works
So great a waſt and ruine in thisage,
As doe my warres. O MordredbleſſedSonne:
No doubt, theſe market mates ſo highly hier’d
Muſtbe the ſtay of thy vſurped ſtate.
And leaſt my headinclining now to yeares,
Should ioy the reſt, which yet itneuer reapt:
The Traytor Gilla,traind in treacherous iarres,
Is chiefe in armes, to reaue me ofmy Realme.
What corner (ah) for all my warres ſhall ſhrowde
Mybl∞dleſſe age: what ſeate for due deſerts?
What towne, orfield for auncient Souldiers reſt?
What houſe? What r∞ffe?What walls for weried lims?
Stretch out againe, ſtretch outyour conquering hands,
Still muſt we vſe the force ſo oftenvſde.
To thoſe, that will purſue a wrong with wreke,
Hegiueth all, that once denies the right.
Thou ſoile whicherſt Dianadid ordaine
The certaine ſeate and bowre of wandringBrute:
ThouRealme which ay I reuerence as my Saint,
Thou ſtately Brytaineth’auncient tipe of Troy,
Bearewith my forced wrongs: I am not he,
That willing would impeachthy peace with warres.
Lo here both farre and wide IConqueror ſtand,
Arthureachwhere thine owne, thy Liedge, thy King.
Condemne not mineattempts: he, onely he
Is ſole in fault, that makes me thus thyfoe.
Here I renounce all leagues and treats of truce,
ThouFortunehenceforth art my garde and guide.
Hence peace, on warres, runneFates,let Marsbe iudge,
I erſt did truſt to right, but now to rage.
Goe: tell the boy that Arthurfearesno brags,
In vaine he ſeékes to braue it with his Sire.
Icome (Mordred)I come, but to thy paine.
Yea, tell the boy his angry fathercomes,
To teach a Nouist both to die, and dare.

HeraultExit.

H^OWE.If we without offence (O greateſt guide
Of Brytiſhname? may poure our iuſt complaints:
We moſt miſlike thatyour t∞ milde a m∞de
Hath thus withheld our hands and ſwordsfrom ſtrokes.
For what? were we behind in any helpe?
Orwithout cauſe did you misſdoubt our force,
Or truth ſo oftentried with g∞d ſucceſſe?
Goe to: Conduct your army tothe fielde,
Place man to man, oppoſe vs to our foes:
Asmuch we neéde to worke, as wiſh your weale.

CADO.Seémes it ſo ſowre to winne by ciuill warres?
Were it togoare with Pike my fathers braeſt,
Were it to riue and cleauemy brothers head,
Were it to teare peécemeale my deareſtchilde,
I would inforce my grudging handes to helpe.
Icannot terme that place my natiue ſoyle,
Whereto your trumpetsſend their warrlike ſounds.
If caſe requir'd to batter downethe Towres
Of any Towne, that Arthurwould deſtroy:
Yea, wer’t of Brytainesſelfe, which moſt I rede:
Her bulwarkes, fortreſſe,rampiers, walles and fence,
Theſe armes ſhould reare the Ramsto runne them downe.
Wherefore ye Princes, and the reſt mymates,
If what I haue auerd in all your names,
Be likewiſeſuch as ſtands to your content,
Let all your Yeas auow mypromiſe true.

SOVL.Yea, yea, &c.

ASCH.Whereinrenowmed King my ſelfe, or mine,
My life, my Kingdome, and allDenmarkepowre
May ſerue your turne, account them all your owne.

KING/f Norway.And whatſoe’r my force or Norwaieaide
Mayhelpe in your attempts, I vow it here.

GAWI.As heretofore I alwayes ſerude your heaſt,
So let this daie beiudge of Gawinstruſt.
Either my brother Mordreddies the death
By mine aſſault, or I at leaſt by his.

ARTH.Since thus (my faithfull mates) with vowes alike,
And equallloue to Arthurscauſe you ioyne
In common care, to wreake my priuatewrongs:
Lift vp your Ensignes efts, ſtretch out yourſtrengths,
Purſue your Fates,performeyour hopes to Mars,
Loehere the laſt and outmoſt worke for blades.
This is thetime that all our valour craues.
This time by due deſertreſtores againe
Our goods, our lands, our liues, our weale andall.
This time declares by Fateswhoſe cauſe is beſt,
This, this condemnes the vanquiſht ſideof guilt.
Wherefore if for my ſake you ſcorne yourſelues,
And ſpare no ſword nor fire in my defence:
Thenwhiles my cenſure iuſtifies your cauſe,
Fight, fight amaine:and cleare your blades from crime,
The Iudge once changde, nowarres are free from guilt.
The better cauſe giues vs thegreater hope
Of proſperous warres, wherein if once I hap
Toſpie the wonted ſignes, that neuer failde
Their guide, yourthreatning lookes, your firie eies,
And buſtling bodies preſtto preſent ſpoile:
The field is wonne. Euen then me thinkes Iſee
The wonted waſts, and ſcattered heads of foes,
TheIriſhcarcas kickt, and Pictesoppreſt,
AndSaxonsſlaine, to ſwim in ſtreames of bloud.
I quake with hope. Ican aſſure you all,
We neuer had a greater match in hand.
March on: delaie no Fateswhiles Fortunefawnes,
The greateſt praiſe of warres conſiſts in ſpeed.

ExeuntRegis et Cohors.

Thefourth ſcene.

Cador.Arthur.

CADO.Sincethus (victorious King) your Peéres, allies,
Your Lords, and allyour powres be ready preſt,
For g∞d, for bad, for whatſoe’rſhall hap,
To ſpend both limme and life in your defence:
Caſtof all doubts, and reſt your ſelfe on Mars:
Ahopeleſſe feare forbids a happy Fate.

ARTH.In ſ∞th (g∞d Cador)ſo our Fortunefares,
As neédes we muſt returne to w∞nted force.
Towarres we muſt: but ſuch vnhappy warres,
As yeéld no hope forright or wrong to ſcape.
My ſelfe foreſeés the Fate,it cannot fall
Without our deareſt bl∞d: much may theminde
Of penſiue Sire preſage, whose Sonne ſo ſinnes.
Alltruth, all truſt, all bl∞d, all bands be broke,
The ſeédesare ſowne that ſpring to future ſpoyle,
My Sonne, my Nephew,yea each ſide my ſelfe,
Nerer then all (woe's me) t∞ nere,my foe.
Well: t’is my plague for life ſo lewdlyledde,
The price of guilt is ſtill a heauier guilt.
Forwere it light, that eu’n by birth my ſelfe
Was bad, I made myſiſter bad: nay were
That alſo light, I haue begot asbad.
Yea worſe, an heire aſſignde to all our ſinnes.
Such was his birth: what baſe, what vulgar vice
Could once bel∞kt for of ſo noble blood?
The deéper guilt deſcends, themore it rootes:
The younger imps affect the huger crimes.

Exeunt.

1When many men aſſent to ciuill warres,
And yeélde a suffradgeto inforce the Fates:
Noman bethinkes him of his owne miſhappe,
But turnes that luckevnto an other’s ſhare.
Whereas if feare did firſt forewarneech foyle,
Such loue to fight would breéd no Brytainsbane.
And better were ſtill to preſerue our peace,
Then thus tovent for peace through waging warres.
What follie to forgoe ſuchcertayne happes,
And in their ſteede to feede vncertaynehopes?
Such hopes as oft haue puft vp many a Realme,
Tillcroſſe ſucceſſe hath preſt it downe as deépe:
Whilesblind affection fetcht from priuate cauſe
Miſguiding wit hathmaſkt in wiſedom’s vaile,
Pretending what in purpoſe itabhorr’d.

2Peace hath threé foes incamped in our breaſts,
Ambition,Wrath,and Enuie:which ſubdude,
We ſhould not faile to finde eternall peace.
T’is in our powre to ioy it all at will,
And fewe there be,but if they will, they may:
But yet euen thoſe, who like thename of peace,
Through fond deſire repine at peace it ſelfe.
Betweéne the hope whereof, and it it ſelfe,
A thouſandthings may fall: that further warres.
The very ſpeéchſometimes and treats of truce,
Is ſlaſht and cut a ſunderwith the ſword.
Norſield the name of peace doth edge ourmindes,
And ſharpeneth on our furie till we fight:
So thatthe mention made of loue and reſt
Is oft a whetſtone to ourhate and rage.

3Lo here the end, that Kingly pompe imparts,
The quiet reſt,that Princely pallace plights.
Carevpon care, and euery day a newe
Freſh ryſiyg tempeſt tiresthe toſſed mindes.
Who ſtriues to ſtand in pompe ofPrincely port,
On guiddy top and culme of ſlipperyCourt,
Findes oft a heauy Fate,whiles t∞ much knowne
To all, he falles vnknowne vntohimſelfe.
Let who ſo elſe that liſt, affect thename,
But let me ſeéme a Potentate to none:
My ſlenderbarke shall ceeépe anenſt the ſho^are,
Andſhunne the windes, that ſweépe the waltering waues.
Prowde Fortuneouerhippes the ſaffest Roades,
And ſeékes amidſt the ſurgingSeas thoſe Keéles,
Whoſe lofty tops and tacklings touch theCloudes.

4O baſe, yet happy B∞res! O giftes of Gods
Scant yetperceau’d: when poudred Ermine roabes
With ſecrete ſighesmiſtruſting their extreames,
In bailefull breaſt forecaſttheir foultring Fates,
Andſtirre, and ſtriue, and ſtorme, and all in vaine:
Behold,the Peaſant p∞re with tattered coate,
Whoſe eyes a meanerFortunefeédeswith ſleépe,
How ſafe and ſound the careleſſe Snudge dothſnore.
Low r∞ffed lurkes the houſe of ſlenderhap,
Coſtleſſe, not gay without, ſcant cleane within:
Yetſafe: and oftner ſhroudes the hoary haires,
Then haughtyTurrets rearde with curious art,
To harbour heads that wield thegolden Creſt.
With endleſſe carke in glorious Courts andTownes,
The troubled hopes and trembling feares doe dwell.

TheArgument of the fourth Act.

1IN the firſtScene Gildasand Conanconferre of the ſtate of Brytaine.

2In the Second Scene Nuntiusmakethreport of the whole battaile, with the death of MordredandArthursandCadorsdeadlywound.

3In the third Scene GildasandConanlamentthe infortunateſtate of the Countrie.

TheArgument and manner of the fourthdumbe shewe.

DVringthe Muſicke appointed after the third act, there came a LadyCou***ly attyred with a counterfaite Childe in her armes, who walkedſoftly *** the Stage. From an other place there came a King Crowned,who likew*** walked on an other part of the Stage. From a third placethere came foure Soul***ers all armed, who ſpying this Lady andKing, vpon a ſodaine purſued the La^d***from whom they violently tooke her Childe and flung it againſt thewalles; Sh*** in mournefull ſort wringing her hands paſſed herway. Then in like manner th*** ſette on the King, tearing his Crownefrom his head, and caſting it in peeeces ^v***derfeete draue him by force away; And ſo paſſed themſelues ouer theStage. *** this was meant the fruit of Warre, which ſpareth neitherman woman nor chil^d***with the ende of Mordredsvſurped Crowne.

THEFOVRTH ACT and firſt ſcene.

Gildas.Conan.

GILD.LORDConan,though I know how hard a thing
It is, for mindes trainde vp inPrincely Thrones,
To heare of ought againſt their humor’scourſe:
Yet: ſithence who forbiddeth not offence,
If wellhe may, is cauſe of ſuch offence:
I could haue wiſht (andblame me not my Lord)
Your place and countnance both with Sonneand Sire,
Had more preuailde on either ſide, then thus
T’haueleft a Crowne in danger for a Crowne
Through ciuill warres, ourCountries w∞nted woe.
Whereby the Kingdom’s wound ſtillfeſtring deépe,
Sucks vp the miſchiefe’s humor to thehart.
The ſtaggering ſtate of Brytainestroubledbraines,
Headſicke, and ſore incumbred in her Crowne,
Withguiddy ſteps runnes on a headlong race.
Whereto this tempeſttend’s, or where this ſtorme
Will breake, who knowes? ButGods auert the worſt.

CONA.Now ſurely(Gildas)asmy duety ſt∞d,
Indifferent for the beſt to Sonne andSire:
So (I proteſt) ſince theſe occaſions grewe,
Thatin the depth of my deſire to pleaſe,
I more eſteémde whathoneſt faith requir’d
In matters meéte for their eſtatesand place:
Than how to feéde each fond affection prone
Tobad effects, whence their diſgrace mought growe.
And as forMordredsdeſperateand diſloyall plots,
Theyhad beéne none, or fewer at the leaſt,
HadI preuail’d: whichArthur knowesright well.
But eu’n as Counters goe ſometimesfor one,
Sometimes for thousands more, ſometimesfor none:
So men in greateſtcountnance with their King,
Can worke by fit perſwasionſometimesmuch:
But ſometimesleſſe:and ſometimesnought at all.

GILD.Well: wee that haue not ſpentour time in warres,
But bent our courſeat peace, and Countries weale,
May rather now expect whatſtrangeeuent,
And Chaunceinſuesof theſeſorare attempts:
Then enter to diſcourſevpon their cauſe,
Anderre as wide in wordes, as they in deédes.

CONA.And Lo: to ſatiſfieyour wiſhtherein,
Where comes a Souldier ſweatingfrom the Camps.

Theſecondſcene.

Nuncius.

THOUEcchoſhrillthat hauntſt the hollow hilles,
Leaue off that w∞nt to ſnatchthe latter word:
Howle on a whole diſcourſe of ourdiſtreſſe,
Clippe of no clauſe: ſound out a perfect ſenſe.

GILD.What freſh miſhap (alas) what newe annoy,
Remoues our penſiuemindes from wonted woes,
And yet requires a newe lamentingm∞de?
Declare: we ioy to handle all our harmes:
Our manygriefes haue taught vs ſtill to mourne.

NVNC.But (ah) my toung denies my ſpeéch his aide:
Great force dothdriue it forth: a greater keépes
It in. I rue ſurpriſde withw∞ntleſſe woes.

CONA.Speake on, what griefe ſo e’r ourFatesafford.

NVNC.Smallgriefes can ſpeake: the great aſtoniſht ſtand.

What greater ſinnes could hap, then what be paſt?
Whatmiſchiefes could be meant, more then were wrought?

And thinke you theſe to be an end to ſinnes?
No. Crimeproceédes: thoſe made but one degreé.
What miſchiefes earſtwere done, terme ſacred deédes:
Call nothing ſinne, but whathath since inſu’d.
A greater griefe requires your teares:Behold
Theſe freſh annoyes: your laſt miſhaps be ſtale.

Tell on (my friend) ſuſpend our mindes no more:
Hath Arthurloſt?HathMordredw∞nnethe field?

O: nothing leſſe. Would Gods it were but ſo.
Arthurhathwoonne: but we haue loſt the field.
The field? Nay all theRealme, andBrytainesbounds.

How ſo? IfArthurwoonne,what could we l∞ſe?
You ſpeake in cloudes, and caſtperplexed wordes.
Unfolde at large: and ſort out ſorrowes out.

NVNC.Then liſta while: this inſtantſhallvnwrappe
Thoſeacts, thoſewarres, thoſehard euents, that all
The future age ſhalleu'r haue cauſeto curſe.
Now that the time drewe on, when both the Camps
Should meétin Cornwellfieldes th'appointed place:
The reckeleſſetroupes, whom Fatesforbad to liue
Till noone, or night, did ſtormeand raue for warres.
They ſwarmdeabout their Guydes, and cluſtringcald
For ſignesto fight, and fierce with vprores fell,
They onwards hayld thehaſtninghowres of death.
A direfull frenzie roſe:ech man his owne,
And publike Fatesall heédleſſeheadlong flung.
On Mordredsſidewere ſixtiethouſandemen,
Some borowed powres, some Brytansbred at home.
The Saxons,Iriſh,Normans, Pictes,and Scottes
Werefirſtin place, the Brytanesfollowedlaſt.
On Arthursſidethere were as manie more.
Iſlandians,Gothes, Noruegians, Albanes, Danes,
Wereforraine aides, which Arthurbrought from Fraunce,
Atruſtietroupe, and tryed at many a trench.
That nowe the day wascome, wherein our State
For aye ſhouldfall, whenceforth men might inquire
What Brytainewas: theſewarres thus neere bewraide.
Nor could the Heauens no longer hidetheſeharmes,
But by prodigious ſignesportende our plagues.
For lo: er both the Campesencountering coapt,
The Skies and Poles oppoſedthemſelueswith ſtormes.
BothEaſt,and Weſtwith tempeſtesdarke were dim’d,
And ſhowresof Hayle, and Rayne outragious powr’d.
The Heauens were rent,ech ſidethe lightnings flaſht,
AndClowdes with hideous clappes did thundering roare.
Thearmies all agaſtdid ſenſeleſſeſtand,
Miſtruſtingmuch, both Force, and Foes, and Fates.
T’washarde to ſay,which of the two appal’d
Them moſt,the monſtrousayre, or too much feare.
When Arthurſpidehis Souldiers thus amaz’d,
And hope extinct, and deadly dreadedrawne on:
My mates (quoth he) the Gods doe ſkowrethe ſkies,
Toſeéwhoſecauſeand courage craues their care.
The Fatescontende to worke ſomeſtraungeeuent:
And Fortuneſeéksby ſtormesin Heauens and Earth,
What pagions ſhemay play for my behoofe.
Of whom ſheknowes, ſhethen deſeruesnot well,
When lingring ought, ſhecomes not at the firſt.
Thus ſaide:reioycing at his dauntleſſeminde,
They all reuiude, and former feare recoylde.
By thatthe light of Titan’stroubled beames
Had pearceing ſcattereddowne the drowping fogges,
And greeted both the Campes withmutuall viewe:
Their choller ſwelles,whiles fell diſpoſedmindes
Bounce in their breaſtes,and ſtirrevncertayne ſtormes.
Thenpalenes wanne and ſternewith cheareleſſechaunge,
Poſſeſſingbleake their lippes and bl∞dleſſecheékes,
With troublous trembling ſhewestheir death is nere.
When Mordredſawethe danger thus approacht,
And boyſtrousthrongs of Warriers threatning bl∞d:
His inſtantruines gaue a nodde at Fates,
Andminde though prone to Mars,yetdaunted pauſde.
The hart which promiſtearſta ſureſucceſſe,
Nowthrobs in doubts: nor can his owne attempts,
Afforde him feare,nor Arthursyeelde him hope.
This paſſionlaſtsnot long, he ſ∞nerecalls
His auncient guiſe,and wonted rage returnes.
He loathes delayes, and ſcorchtwith Scepters luſt,
Thetime and place, wherein he oft had wiſht
Tohazarde all vpon extreameſtChaunce,
Heoffred ſpies,and ſpidepurſueswith ſpeéde.
Then both the Armies mette with equall might,
This ſtirdwith wrath, that with deſireto rule:
And equall proweſſewas a ſpurreto both.
The IriſhKing whirlde out a poyſnedDart,
That lighting pearced deépe in Howelsbraines,
A p^eéreleſſePrince and nere of Arthursbloud.
Hereat the Aire with vprore lowde reſoundes,
Whichefts on mountains rough rebounding reares.
The Trumpets hoarcetheir trembling tunes doe teare
And thundring Drummes theirdreadfull Larums ring.
The Standards broad are blowne, andEnſignesſpread,
Andeuery Nation bends his w∞nted warres.
Some nere theirfoes, ſomefurther off doe wound,
With dart, or ſword,or ſhaft,or pike, or ſpeare,
Theweapons hide the Heauens: a night compoſde
Ofwarrelike Engines ouerſhadesthe field.
From euery ſidetheſefatall ſignesare ſent:
Andboyſtrousbangs with thumping thwacks fall thicke.
Had both theſeCamps beéne of vſurpingKings,
Had euery man thereof a Mordredbeéne,
No fiercelier had they fought for all their Crownes.
Themurthers meaneleſſewaxt, no art in fight,
Nor way to ward nor trie each othersſkill,
Butthence the blade, and hence the bloud enſues.

CONA.But what? Did Mordredseyesindure this ſight?

NVNC.Theydid. And he himſelfethe ſpurreof fiends
And Gorgonsall, leaſtany part of his
Scapt fr^eéfrom guilt, enflamde their mindes to wrath.
And, with a valuremore, then Vertue yeélds,
He chearde them all, and at theirbacke with long
Outreached ſpeare,ſtirdevp each lingring hand.
All furie like frounſtvp with frantick frets.
He bids them leaue and ſhunnethe meaner ſort,
Heſhewesthe Kings, and Brytainesnobleſtpeéres.

GILD.He was not now to ſeékewhat bloud to drawe:
He knewe what iuice refreſhthis fainting Crowne.
T∞ much of Arthurshart. O had he wiſt
Howgreat a vice ſuchvertue was as then.
InCiuill warres, in r∞ting vp his Realme?
O frantike fury, farrefrom Ualures praiſe.

NVNC.There fell Aſchillusſtoutof DenmarkeKing,
There valiant GawinArthursNephew deare,
And late by Augelsdeath made AlbaneKing,
By Mordredshand hath loſtboth life and Crowne.
There GillawoundedCadorCorniſhDuke,
In hope to winne the Dukedome for his meede.
TheNorwayKing, the SaxonsDuke, and Picts,

Inwofull sort fell groueling to the ground.
There Prince andPeaſantboth lay hurlde on heapes:
Marsfrowndeon Arthursmates: the Fateswaxt fierce,
And iointly ranne their race with Mordredsrage.

CONA.But with what ioy (alas) ſhallhe returne,
That thus returnes, the happier for this fielde?

NVNC.Theſeodds indure not long, for Marsretires,
AndFortunepleaſdewith Arthursmoderate feare,
Returnes more full, and friendlyer then herw∞nt.
For when he ſawthe powers of Fatesoppoſde,
Andthat the dreadfull houre thus haſtenedon:
Perplexed much in minde, at length reſolues,
Thatfeare is couered beſtby daring moſt.
Then forth he pitcht: the SaxonDuke withſt∞de,
Whomwith one ſtrokehe headleſſeſentto Hell.
Not farre from thence he ſpidethe IriſhKing,
Whoſelife he t∞ke as price of broken truce.
ThenCadorforeward preſt,and haplie mette
The Traytor Gilla,worker of theſewarres,
Of whom by death he t∞ke his due reuenge.
Theremnant then of both the Camps concurre,
They Brytainesall, or moſt:few Forreines left.
Theſewage the warres, and hence the deaths inſue.
Nort’one, nor t’other ſide,that can deſtroy
Hisfoes ſofaſt,as tis it ſelfedeſtroyed.
The brethren broach their bloud: the Sire his Sonnes,
TheSonne againe would proue by t∞ much Wrath,
That he, whom thushe ſlew,was not his Sire.
No bl∞d nor kinne can ſwagetheir irefull m∞des.
No forreine foe they ſeéke,nor care to finde:
The Brytainesbloudis ſoughton euery ſide.
A vaine diſcourſeit were to paint at large
The ſeuerallFates,and foiles of either ſide.
Totell what grones and ſighesthe parting Ghoſts
Sentforth: who dying bare the felleſtbreaſt:
Whochaunged cheare at any Brytainesfall:
Who oftneſtſtr∞ke:who beſtbeſtowdehis blade:
Who ventred moſt:who ſtoode:who fell: who failde:
Th’effect declares it all: thus far’dthe field.
Of both theſeHoaſtsſohuge and maine at firſt,
Therewere not left on either ſidea ſcore,
ForSonne, and Sire to winne, and l∞ſethe Realme.
The which when Mordredſaw,and that his Sire
Gainſtfoes, and Fatesthemſelueswould winne the field,
He ſigh’d,and twixt deſpaireand rage he cryed,
Here (Arthur)here, and hence the Conqueſtcomes:
Whiles Mordredliues, the Crowne is yet vnw∞nne.
Hereat the prince ofproweſſemuch amaz’d,
With thrilling teares, and countnance caſton ground,
Did groaning fetch a deépe and earnefull ſigh.
Anone they fierce encountering both concur’d,
With grieſlyl∞kes, and faces like their Fates:
Butdiſparmindes, and inward m∞des vnlike.
The Sire with minde toſafegardboth, or t’one:
The Sonne to ſpoilethe t’one, or hazard both.
No feare, nor fellnes failde oneither ſide:
Thewager lay on both their liues and bl∞ds.
At length whenMordredſpydehis force to faint,
Andfelt him ſelfeoppreſtwith Arthursſtrength,
(Ohapleſſelad, a match vnmeéte for him)
He loathes to liue in thatafflicted ſtate,
Andvaliant with a forced Vertue, longs
To die the death: in whichperplexed minde,
With grenning teéth, and crabbed l∞kes hecryes,
Icannot winne: yet will I not be wonne.
What ſhouldwe ſhunour Fates,or play with Mars,
Orthus defraude the warres of both our blouds?
Whereto doe wereſerueour ſelues?Or why
Be we not ſoughtere this, amongeſtthe dead?
So many thouſandsmurthred in our cauſe,
Muſtwe ſuruiue,and neither winne nor l∞ſe?
The Fatesthat will not ſmileon either ſide,
Mayfrowne on both: So ſayingforth he flings,
And deſperateruns on point of ArthursSword,
(ASword (alas) prepar’d for no ſuchvſe)
Whereonengoarde he glides, till nere approcht,
With dying hand he heweshis fathers head.
So through his owne annoy, he noyes hisLiedge:
And gaines by death acceſſeto daunt his Sire.
There Mordredfell,but like a Prince he fell.
And as a braunch of great Pendragonsgrafte
His life breaths out, his eyes forſakethe Sunne,
And fatall Cloudes inferre a laſtingClips.
There Arthurſtaggeringſcantſustaindhim ſelfe,
ThereCadorfound a deepe and deadly wound,
There ceaſtthe warres, and there was Brytaineloſt.
There lay the choſenyouths of Mars,there lay
The peéreleſſeKnights, Bellona’^sbraueſttraine.
There lay the Mirrours rare of Martiall praiſe,
Therelay the hope and braunch of Brutesuppreſt.
ThereFortunelaid the prime of Brytainespride,
Therelaide her pompe, all topſieturuie turnde.

Exit.

Thethird ſcene.

Gildas.Conan.

GILD.Comecruell griefes, ſpare not to ſtretch our ſtrengths,
Whilesbailefull breaſtes inuite our thumping fiſts.
Let euery ſigne,that mournefull paſſions worke,
Expreſſe what piteousplightes our mindes amaze.
This day ſupplants what no daycan ſupply,
Theſe handes haue wrought thoſe waſtes, thatneuer age,
Nor all the broode of Bruteſhalle’r repaire.
That future men may ioy the ſurer reſt,
Theſewarres preuent their birth, and nip their ſpring.
WhatNations earſt the former age ſubdude
With hourelie toyles toBrytainesyoke,this day
Hath ſet at large, and backwardes turnde theFates.
Hencefoorththe Kernesmay ſafely tread their bogges:
The Scotsmay now their inrodes olde renewe,
The Saxon^swell may vow their former claimes,
And Daneswithout their danger driue vs out.
Theſe warres found notthe’ffect of woonted warres,
Nor doth their waight the likeimpreſſion woorke:
Thereſeuerall Fatesannoyde but ſeuerall men,
Heere all the Realme and people findeone Fate.
Whatthere did reache but to a Souldiers death,
Containes the deathof all a Nation here.
Theſe blades haue giuen this Iſlea greater wounde,
Then tyme can heale. The fruite of ciuillwarres:
A Kingdom’s hand hath goard a Kingdom’s heart,

CONA.When Fame shall blaze theſe acts in latter yeares,
And time tocome ſo many ages hence
Shall efts report our toyles andBrytiſhpaynes:
Or when perhaps our Childrens Children reade,
Ourwoefull warres diſplaid with ſkilfull penne:
They’l thinkethey heere ſome ſounds of future facts,
And not the ruinesolde of pompe long paſt.
Twill mooue their mindes to ruth, andframe a freſh
New hopes, and feares, and vowes, and many awiſh,
And Arthurscauſe ſhall ſtill be fauour’d moſt.
He was the ioy,and hope, and hap of all,
The Realmes defence, the ſole delayof Fates,
Hewas our wall and forte, twice thirteene yeares
His ſhouldersdid the Brytaineſtate ſupport.
Whiles yet he raignd, no forren foespreuailde,
Nor once could hope to binde the Brytaineboundes:
But ſtill both farre and nere were forc’d toflie,
Theythrall to vs, we to our ſelueswere free.
But now, and hencefoorth aye, adue thathope,
Adue that pompe, that freedome, rule and all:
LetSaxonsnow, let Normans,Danes,and Scottes.
Enioyeour medowes, fieldes, and pleaſantplaines:
Come, let vs flye to Mountaines, Cliffes and Rockes,
ANation hurt, and ne’r in caſeto heale.
Hencefoorth the waight of Fatesthus falne aſide,
Wereſtſecurefrom feare of greater foile:
Our leaſureſeruesto thinke on former times,
And know what earſtwe were, who now are thus.

Exeunt.

1OBrytainesproſperousſtatewert Heauenlye powers
But halfe ſowilling to preſeruethy peace,
As they are prone to plague thee for thy warres.
Butthus (O Gods) yea, thus it likes you ſtill.
Whenyou decree to turne, and touſethe worlde,
To make our errors cauſeof your decrees.
We fretting fume, and burning wax rightwood,
We crye for ſwordes,and harmefull harneſſecraue,
We raſhlyraue, whiles from our preſentrage,
You frame a cauſeof long foredeemed doome.

2WhenBrytaineſodeſir’dher owne decaie,
That eu’n her natiue broode would roote hervp:
Seamde it ſohuge a woorke, (O Heauens) for you
To tumble downe, and quiteſubuerther ſtate,
Unleſſeſomany Nations came in aide?
What thirſtof ſpoile(O Fates?)In ciuil warres
Were you afraide to faint for want of blood?
But yet, O wretched ſtatein Brytainesfond,
What needed they to ſtoopeto Mordredsyoke,
Orfeare the man themſeluesſofearefull made?
Had they, but lynckt like friendes in Arthursbandes,
And ioynde their force againſtthe forren foes:
Theſewarres and ciuill ſinneshad ſooneſurceaſt,
AndMordredreft of rule had feard his Sire.

3WouldGods theſewarres had drawne no other blood
Then ſuchas ſproongfrom breaſtsof forreine foes:
So that the fountaine, fedde with chaungeleſſecourſe,
Hadfound no neerer vents for dearer iuyce.
Or if the Fatesſothirſtfor Brytiſhblood,
And long ſodeepely for our laſtdecaie:
O that the reſtwere ſpardeand ſafereſeru'd,
BothSaxons,Danes,and Normansmoſtof all.
Heereof when ciuill warres haue worne vs out,
MustBrytaineſtand,a borrowed blood for Brute.

4Whenproſperoushaps, and long continuing bliſſe,
Hauepaſtthe ripeneſſeof their budding grouth,
They fall and foulter like the mellowfruite,
Surcharg’d with burden of their owne exceſſe.
SoFortunewearyed with our often warres,
Is forc’d to faint, and leauevs to our fates.
If men haue mindes preſagingought their harmes,
If euer heauie heart foreweene her woe:
WhatBrytaineliues, ſofar remou’d from home,
In any Ayre, or Pole, or Coaſtabroade:
But that euen now through Naturesſoleinſtinct,
Hefeeles the fatall ſwordimbrue his breaſt,
Wherewithhis natiue ſoylefor aye is ſlaine?
Whathopes, and happes lye waſtedin theſewarres?
Who knowes the foyles he ſufferedin theſefieldes?

argument of the fift Act.

1IN the firſt ſcene Arthurand Cadorreturned deadlie wounded and bewaild the miſfortune of themſeluesand their Countrie, and are likewiſe bewailed of the Chorus.

2In the ſeconde ſcene the Ghoaſtof Gorloisreturneth reioycing at his reuendge,and wiſhing euer after a happier Fatevnto Brytaine,whichdone, he deſcendeth where he firſt roſe.

Argument and manner of the fiftand laſt dumbe ſhewe.

Soundingthe Muſicke, foure gentlemen all in blacke halfe armed, halfevnarmed with blacke ſkarffes ouerthwart their ſhoulders ſhouldcome vppon the ſtage. The firſt bearing alofte in the one hand onthe trunchion of a ſpeare an Helmet, an arming ſworde, a Gauntlet,&c. representing the Trophea: in the other hand a Target depictedwith a mans hart ſore wounded & the blood guſhing out, crownedwith a Crowne imp^erialland a Lawrell garland, thus written in the toppe. Entotum quod ſuperest,ſignifying the King of Norwaywhich ſpent himſelfe and all his power for Arthur,andof whom there was left nothing but his heart to inioy the conqueſtthat inſued. The ſeconde bearing in the one hand a ſiluer veſſellfull of golde, pearles, and other iewels representing the Spolia:in the other hande a Target with an Olephant and Dragon thereonfiercely combacting, the Dragon vnder the Olephant and ſucking byhis extreme heate the blood from him is cruſhed in peeces with thefall of the Olephant, ſo as both die at laſt, this written aboue,Victor,an Victus?repreſenting the King of Denmarke,whofell through Mordredswound, hauing firſt with his ſouldiers deſtroyed the moſt ofMordredsarmie.The third bearing in the one hand a Pyramiswith a Lawrell wreath about it repreſenting victorie. In the otherhand a Target with this deuiſe: a man ſleeping, a ſnake drawingneere to ſting him, a Leazard preuenting the Snake by fight, theLeazard being deadlie wounded awaketh the man, who ſeeing theLeazard dying, purſues the Snake, and kils it, this written aboue,Tibimorimur.Signifying GawinKing of Albanyeſlaine in Arthursdefence by Mordred,whomArthurafterwardes ſlewe. The fourth bearing in the one hande a brokenpiller, at the toppe thereof the Crowne and Scepter of the vanquishtKing, both broken aſunder, repreſenting the conqueſt ouervſurpation: in the other hand a Target with two Cockes paintedthereon, the one lying dead, the other with his winges broken, hiseyes pecked out, and the bloode euerye where guſhing foorth to thegrounde, he ſtanding vppon the dead Cocke and crowing ouer him, withthis embleme in the toppe, Quavici, perdidi,ſignifying Cadordeadlywounded by Gillawhom he ſlewe. After theſe followed a King languiſhing in completHarneſſe blacke, bruſed & battered vnto him, beſprinkled withblood. On his head a Lawrell garland, leaning on the ſhoulders oftwo Heraults in mourning gownes & hoods, th’on in Marshis coate of arms, the other in Arthurs,presentingArthurvictoriouſlybut yet deadly wounded. there followed a page with a Target whereonwas portraited a Pellican pecking her blood out of her breſt tofeede her young ones, through which wound ſhe dieth, this writen inthe toppe, Quafoui,perii,signifying Arthurstoo much indulgencie of Mordred,the cauſe of his death. All this repreſented the diſmayed andvnfortunate victorie of Arthur,whichis the matter of the Act inſuing.

THEFIFT ACT and first Scene.

Arthur.Cador. Chorus.

ARTH.ComeCador,as our frendſhip was moſt firme
Throughout our age, ſo nowlet’s linke as faſt.
Thus did we liue in warres, thus let vsdye
In peace, and arme in arme pertake our Fates.
Ourwoundes, our greéfe, our wiſh, our hap alike,
Our end ſoneere, all craue eche others helpe.

CADO.O King, beholde the fruite of all our Fame:
Lohere our Pompe conſumed with our ſelues,
What all our age withall our warres had w∞nne,
Loe here one day hath loſt it allat once.
Well: ſo it likes the Heauens: thus Fortunegibes:
She hoyſeth vp to hurle the deeper downe.

CHOR.1O ſacred Prince: what ſight is this we ſeé?
Why haue theFatesreſeru’d vs to theſe woes
Our onely hope: the ſtay of allour Realme:
The piller of our ſtate: thus ſore oppreſt?
O would the Gods had fauour’d vs ſo much:
That, as weliu’d partakers of your paines,
And likewiſe ioyde the fruitof your exploytes:
So hauing thus bereft our Soueraignesbliſſe,
They had with more indifferent doome conioynd
TheSubiects both, and Soueraignes bane in one.
It now (alas)ingendereth double greéfe,
To rue your want, and to bewaile ourwoes.

ARTH.Rue not my Brytaineswhatmy rage hath wrought,
But blame your King, that thus hath rentyour Realme.
My meaneleſſe m∞des haue made the Fatesthus fell,
And too much anger wrought in me too much.
For had impatient ire indu’rde abuſe,
Andyeélded where reſiſtancethreatned ſpoyle:
Imought haue liu’d in forreine coaſtesvnfoilde,
And ſixſcorethouſandmen had bene vnmoande.
But wrong incenſingwrath to take reuenge
Preferred Chauncebeforea better choyſe.

CHOR.2T’was Mordredswrong and to vniuſtdeſertes
Thatiuſtlym∞ude your Highneſſeto ſuchwrath:
Your claime requir’d no leſſethen thoſeattempts:
Your cauſeright g∞d was praiſ’d,and praide for moſt.

ARTH.I claimd my Crowne, the cauſeof claime was good,
The meanes to clame it in ſuchſortewas bad.
Yea: rather then my Realme and natiue ſoile
Shouldwounded fall, thus bruſedwith theſewarres:
I should haue left both Realme, and right, and all:
Ordur'd the death ordaind by ^Mordredsoath.

CADO.And yet ſofarre as Marscoulde bide a meane,
You hateleſſeſoughtthe ſafegardof them all.
Whereto the better cauſe,or badder Chaunce
Diddrawe, you ſtillinclinde: preferring oft
The weaker ſide,ſometimesfor loue, ſometimes
Forright, (as Fortuneſwaide)your Sonne, your ſelfe.
So pittie ſpar’d,what reaſonſoughtto ſpoyle:
Tillall at length, with equall ſpoylewas ſpent.

CHOR.3Would Gods your minde had felt no ſuchremorſe,
Andthat your foes had no ſuchfauour founde.
So mought your friends haue had far frendlierFates,
IfRebels for their due deſertshad dyde.
The wickeds death is ſafetyto the iuſt.
Toſparethe Traitors, was to ſpoilethe true.
Of force he hurtes the g∞d, that helpes the bad.
In that you ſoughtyour Countries gaine, t’was well:
In that you ſhunnednot her loſſe,t’was hard.
Good is the frend, that ſeekesto do vs good:
A mighty frend, that doth preuent our harmes.

ARTH.Well: ſoit was: it cannot be redreſt:
Thegreater is my greefe, that ſeésit ſo.
My lyfe (I feele) doth fade, and ſorrowesflowe,
The rather that my name is thus extinct.
In thisreſpect,ſoMordreddid ſucceede,
O,that my ſelfehad falne, and Mordredliu’d:
That hauing conquer’d all my foes but him,
Imought haue left you him, that conquer’d me.
O heauiewretched lotte: to be the laſt
Thatfalles, to viewe the buriall of my Realme.
Where each man elſehath fealt his ſeuerallFate,
Ionely pine oppreſtwith all their Fates.

CHOR.4Although your Highneſſedo ſusteinesuch greéfe,
As needes enforceth all your Realme to rue:
Yetſinceſuchruth affordeth no releefe,
Let due diſcretionſwageeach cureleſſeſore,

Andbeare the harmes, that run without redreſſe.
Theloſſeis ours, that looſeſorare a Prince,
You onely win, that ſeeyour foe here foilde.

Thebreathleſſe body of Mordred in Armour as he fell is brough^tvponthe Stadge.

ARTH.A cauſeleſſefoe. When warres did call me hence
He was in yeares but young,in wit t∞ olde.
As vertue ſhinethmoſtin comlieſtwightes,
When inward gifts are deckt with outward grace:
Sodid his witte and feature feede that hope,
Which falſelytrainde me to this wofull hap.
His minde tranſformedthus, I cannot chuſe
Butlong to ſeewhat change his face ſuſtaines.
Myblood and kinred doubled in his birth,
Inspir^esa mixt, and t’wice deſcendingloue,
Which driues my dying vaines to wiſhhis view.
Unhealme his luckeleſſehead, ſetbare his face:
That face which earſt^pleaſ’dme and mine to much.

CHOR.1Seé (wortheſtKing) the hope of all your Realme,
Had not his luſtto rule preuented all.

ARTH.I ſee(alas) I ſee(hide, hide againe:
O ſparemine eyes) a witneſſeof my crimes:
A fearefull viſionof my former guilte:
A dreadfull horror of a future d∞me:
Apreſentgaule of minde. O happie they,
Whoſeſpotleſſeliues attaine a dreadleſſedeath.
And thou, O hapleſſeboye, O ſpightof Fates,
(Whatmought I terme thee, Nephew, Sonne, or both?)
Alas, how happieſhouldwe both haue bene,
If no ambitious thought had vext thyhead,
Nor thou thus ſtriu’deto reaue thy Fathers rule,
But ſtaidethy tyme, and not forſtaldevs both?

CADO.The hoat ſpurdeyouth that forſtethe forward ſteédes,
Whilesneédes he would his Fathers Chariot guide,
Neglecting what hisSire had ſaidin charge,
The fires, which firſthe flung about the poles,
Himſelfeat laſtmoſtwo^fullwretch inflamde.
So to much loue to houer in the Heauens
Madehim to paie the price of raſhattemptes.

ARTH.What ruth, (ah,) rent the woful^lFathers hart,
That ſawehimſelfethus made a SonneleſſeSire?
Well: ſinceboth Heauens and Hell conſpir’din one,
To make our endes a mirror to the worlde,
Both ofinceſtiouslife, and wicked birth:
Would Gods the Fatesthat linckt our faultes alike,
Had alſofram’de our minds of frendlier mouldes:
That, as our linagehad approcht too neere,
So our affections had not ſwaru’dto farre.
Then mought I liu’d t’inlarge the Brytainespraiſe,
Inrearing efts the firſttriumphant Troy
Andafter thou ſucceedingmine attempts,
Haue ſpentthy courage in a iuſtercauſe.
But t’would not be: Ambition grew to greate:
We could notioyne our mindes: our Fateswe ioynde:
And through thy bl∞d, a way was made to mine.

CHOR.2And muſtwe neédes (O worthieſtPeéres) forgoe,
By this vntimely Fateour greateſthope?
That in your ripeſtyeares and likelyeſttime,
Your chiefeſtforce ſhouldon this ſodainefall?

CHOR.3Haue you throughout your youth made Brytainespompe
A Soueraigne of ſomany Nations ſtout,
Toth’end ere halfe your age vntimely death
Should leaue vsSubiect to our w∞nted foiles?

CHOR.4Seé, ſeé,our idle hopes, our brittle truſt,
Ourvaine deſires,our ouer fickle ſtate.
Which,though a while they ſayleon quiet ſeas,
Yetſinkein ſurge,ere they ariue to Rode.
O wofull warres, O Mordredscurſedpride,
That thus hath wrought both King, and Kingdomes woe.

CADO.Let plaints and mournings paſſe,ſetmoanes a part.
They made much of themſelues:Yea t∞ t∞ much
They lou’d to liue, that ſeéingall their Realme
Thus topſieturuey turnd, would grudge to dye.

ARTH.Yea ſure:ſincethus (O Fates)your cenſureſeémes,
Thatfreé from force of forreine foes, there reſts,
ThatMordredreape the glory of our deaths:
B'it so: driue on your d∞me,worke your decreé:
We feareleſſebide what bane ſoe’r you bidde.
And though our ends thus haſtenedthrough your heaſts,
Abruptly breake the courſeof great attempts:
Yet goe we not inglorious to the ground:
Setwiſha part: we haue perfourmd inough.
The IriſhKing and Nation wilde we tamde:
The Scotsand Picts,and OrcadeIſleswe wanne:
The Danesand Gothesand Friſelandmen with all
The Iſlesinſertednere those Seas, And next
The ^GermaineKing, and Saxonsweſubdude.
Not Fraunce,that could preuaile againſtour force,
Nor laſtlyRome,that rues her pride ſuppreſt.
Echforreine power is parcell of our praiſe,
Notitles want to make our foes affraide.
This onely now Icraue (O Fortuneerſt
Myfaithfull friend) let it be ſ∞neforgot,
Nor long in minde, nor mouth, where Arthurfell.
Yea:though I Conquerour die, and full of Fame:
Yetlet my death and parture reſtobſcure.
Nograue I neéde (O Fates)nor buriall rights,
Nor ſtatelyhearce, nor tombe with haughty toppe:
But let my Carkaſſelurke: yea, let my death
Be ay vnknowen, ſothat in euery Coaſt
Iſtillbe feard, and l∞kt for euery houre.

Exeunt.Arthur & Cador.

CHOR.1Lo here the end that Fortuneſendsat laſt
Tohim, whom firſtſheheau’d to higheſthappe.
The flattering l∞ke wherewith he long wasled:
The ſmilingFates,that oft had fedde his Fame:
Themany warres and Conqueſts,which he gaind,
Aredaſhtat once: one day inferres that foile,
Whereof ſomany yeares of yore were freé.

CHOR.2O willing world to magnifie man's ſtate:
Omoſtvnwilling to maintaine the ſame.
Ofall miſfortunesand vnhappy Fates,
Th'unhappieſtſeémes,to haue beéne hapie once.
T'wasArthurſole,that neuer found his ioyes
Diſturb'dwith woe, nor woes relieu’d with ioye.
In proſperousſtateall Heauenly powres aſpir’d:
Nowmade a wretch, not one, that ſpareshis ſpoile.

CHOR.3Yea Fortunesſelfein this afflicted caſe,
Exactsa paine for long continued pompe.
She vrgeth now the bliſſeof w∞nted weale,
And beares him downe with waight of formerFame.
Hisprayſespaſtbe preſentſhame:O tickle truſt:
WhilesFortun^echops and chaungeth euery Chaunce.
Whatcertaine bliſſecan we enioy a liue,
Unleſſe,whiles yet our bliſſeendures, we die?

CHOR.4Yea: ſincebefore his laſtand outmoſtgaſpe,
Nonecan be deemde a happy man or bleſt,
Whodares commit him ſelfeto proſperousFates,
Whoſedeath preparde attends not hard at hand?
That ſithencedeath muſtonce determine all,
His life may ſ∞nerflie, then Fortuneflitte.

Theſecondſcene.

Gorlois.

NOWGorloisſwage thy ſelfe. Pride hath his pay:
Murther his price:Adult’rie his deſert:
Treaſon his meéde: Diſloyaltie hisd∞me:
Wrong hath his wreake: and Guilt his guerdon beares.
Notone abuſe erſt offered by thy foes
But ſince moſt ſternelypuniſht, is now purg’d.
Where thou didſt fall, eu’n on theſelfe ſame ſoile
Pendragon,Arthur, Mordred,and their ſtocke,
Found all their foiles: not one hath ſcaptereuenge:
Their line from firſt to laſt quite razed out.
Now reſt content, and worke no further plagues:
Let futureage be freé from GorloisGhoſt.
Let Brytainehenceforthbath in endleſſe weale.
Let Virgocome from Heauen, the glorious Starre:
The Zodiac’s ioy: thePlanets chiefe delight:
The hope of all the yeare: the eaſe ofSkies:
The Aires reliefe, the comfort of the Earth.
Thatvertuous Virgoborne for Brytainesbliſſe:
Thatpiereleſſebraunch of Brute:that ſweéteremaine
Of Priam’sſtate:that hope of ſpringingTroy:
Whichtime to come, and many ages hence
Shall of all warres compoundeternall peace,
Let her reduce the golden ageagaine,
Religion, eaſe,and wealth of former world.
Yea, let that Virgocome and Saturnesraigne,
And yeares oft ten times tolde expirde in peace.
ARule, that elſeno Realme ſhalleuer finde,
A Rule most rare, vnheard, vnseéne, vnread,
Theſoleexample that the world affordes.
That (Brytaine)that Renowme, yea that is thine.
B’it ſo:my wrath is wrought. Ye furies blacke
And vglie ſhapes,that houle in holes beneath:
Thou Orcusdarke, and deepe Auernasnooke,
With duſkiſhdennes out gnawne in gulfes belowe,
Receaue your ghaſtlycharge, Duke GorloisGhoaſt:
Makeroome: I gladly thus reuengde returne.
And though your paineſurpaſſe,I greete them tho:
He hates each other Heauen, that hauntethHell.

Seeheére by this the tickle truſt of tyme:
The falſe affiance ofeach mortall force,
The wauering waight of Fates:the fickell trace,
That Fortunetrips: the many mockes of life:
Thecheereleſſe change: the eaſeleſſe brunts and broyles,
Thatman abides: the reſtleſſe race he runnes.
But moſt of all, ſeé héere the peéreleſſe paines:
Thelaſting panges: the ſtintleſſe greéfes: the teares:
Thesighes: the grones: the feares: the hopes: the hates:
Thethoughts and cares, that Kingly pompe impartes.
What folliesthen bewitch thambicious mindes,
That thirſt for Scepters pompethe well of woes?
Whereof (alas) ſhould wretched man beproude,
Whoſe firſt conception is but Sinne, whoſe birth
Butpaine, whoſe life but toyle, and neédes must dye?
Séeheére the ſtore of great Pendragonsbroode,
The to’ne quite dead, the to’ther haſtening on,
Asmen, the Sonne but greene, the Sire but ripe:
Yet bothforeſtalde ere halfe their race were run.
As Kinges, themightieſt Monarches in this age,
Yet both ſuppreſt andvanquiſht by themſelues.
Such is the brittle breath ofmortall man,
Whiles humane Natureworkes her dayly wrackes:
Such be the crazed creſts of gloriousCrownes,
Whiles worldly powers like ſudden puffes do paſſe.
Andyet for one that goes, an other comes,
Someborne, ſomedead: So ſtillthe ſtoreindures.
So that both Fatesand common care prou’de
That men muſtneedes be borne, and ſomemuſtrule.
Wherefore ye Peéres, and Lordings lift aloft,
Andwhoſoe’rin Thrones that iudge your thralls:
Let not your Soueraingtyheaue you to hye,
Nor their ſubiectionpreſſethem downe too lowe.
It is not pride, that can augment yourpower,
Nor lowlie lookes, that long can keepe them ſafe:
The Fateshaue found a way, whereby ere long
The proude muſtleaue their hope, the meeke their feare.
Who ere receau’d ſuchfauor from aboue,
That could aſſureone day vnto himſelfe?
Him,whom the Morning found both ſtoutand ſtrong,
TheEuening left all groueling on the ground.
This breath andheate wherewith mans life is fedde
Is but a flaſh,or flame, that ſhinesa while,
And once extinct, is as it ne’r had bene.
Corruptionhourely frets the bodies frame,
Youth tends to age, and age todeath by kinde.
Short is the race, prefixed is the end,
Swiftis the tyme, wherein mans life doth run.
But by his deedest’extend renowme and fame,
That onely vertue workes, whichneuer fades.

FINIS.

ThomasHughes.

Satcytò, ſiſatbenè: vtcunq́:

Quodnon dat ſpes,dat optio.

Heereafter follow ſuchſpeechesas were penned by others, and pronounced in ſtead of ſome of theformer ſpeeches penned by ThomasHughes.

Aſpeach penned by William Fulbeckegentleman, one of the societie of Grayes-Inne,and pronounced in ſtead of Gorloishis firſt ſpeeche penned by Thomas Hughes, and ſet downe in thefirſt Scene of the firſt Acte.

ALecto:thou that haſt excluded mee
From feeldes Elyſyan,wherethe guiltleſſe ſoule^s
Avoidethe ſcourge of RadamanthusIre:
Letit be lawfull, (ſith I am remou’d
From bleſſed Ilands, tothis curſed ſhoare,
This loathed earth where Arthurstable ſtandes,
With Ordure foule of Harpiesfierce diſteind,)
The fates and hidden ſecrets to diſcloſe
Ofblacke Cocytusand of Acheron,
Thefloudes of death the lakes of burning ſoules.
Where Hellishfrogges doe prophecie reuenge:
Where Tartarsſprights with carefull heede attende
The diſmall ſummons ofAlectoesmouth.
My ſelfe by precept of Proſerpina,
Commaundedwas in preſence to appeare,
Before the Synode of the damnedſprightes.
In fearefull m∞de I did performe their heſt,
Andat my entrance in th’inchaunted ſnakes,
Which wrap themſelusabout the furies neckes,
Did hiſſe for ioy: and from thedreadfull benthe
The ſupreme furie thus aſſignde hercharge.
Gorloisquoth ſhe thou thither muſt aſcend.
Whence through therancour of malicious foes
Wearyed with woundes thou didſtdeſcend to vs.
Make Brytainenow the marke of thy reuenge
On ruthleſſe Brytainesand Pendragonsrace,
Diſburſſe the treaſure of thy Helliſh plagues.
Letblood contend with blood, Father with Sonne,
Subiect withPrince, and let confuſion raigne.
She therewithall enioynde theduſkie cloudes
Which with their darkeneſſe turnde the earthto Hell,
Conuert to blood and poure downe ſtreames ofblood.
Cornewell ſhall groane, and Arthursſoule ſhall ſigh,
Before the conscience of Gueneuora
Themap of hell ſhall hang and fiendes ſhall rage:
AndGorloisghoſt exacting puniſhment.
Withdreames, with horrors and with deadly traunce
Shall gripe theirhearts: the viſionof his corſe
Shalbeto them, as was the terror vile
Of flaming whippes to Agamemnonsſonne.
Andwhen the Trumpet calles them from their reſt
^Auroraſhallwith watry cheekes behold
Their ſlaughteredbodies proſtrateto her beames.
And on the banckes of Cambalaſhalllye
The bones of Arthurand of Arthursknightes:
Whose fle^eteis now tryumphing on the ſeas.
Butſhallbee welcom’d with a Tragedie.
Thy natiue ſoyleſhalbethy fatall gulfe
Arthur:thyplace of birth thy place of death.
Mordredſhalbethe hammer of my hate
To beate the bones of CorniſhLordes to duſt.
Yerauening birdes vnder Celenoespower,
I doe adiure you in Alectoesname.

Followthe sworde of Mordredwherehe goes.
Follow the sworde of Mordredfor your foode.
Aspyring Mordred,thou must also dye.
And on the Altar of Proſerpina
Thyvitall blood vnto my Ghost ſhallfume.
Heauen, Earth,andhell, concurre to’plague the man.
That is the plague ofHeauen, Earth, and hell.
Thou bids Alecto:I purſuemy charge.
Let thy Ceraſtæwhiſtlein mine eares,
And let the belles of Plutoring reuenge.

Oneother ſpeechepenned bythe ſamegentleman, and pronounced in ſteadeofGorloishis laſtſpeachepenned by ThomasHughes, and ſetdowne in the ſecond Scene of the fift and laſt Act.

hath his conqueſt:hell hath had his wiſh.
Gorloishisvow: Alectoher deſire.
Sinnehath his pay: and blood is quit with blood.
Reuenge in Tryumphebeares the ſtruglinghearts.
Now ^Gorloispearce the craggie Rockes of hell.
Through chinckes wherofinfernall ſpritesdo glaunce,
Returne this anſwereto the furies courte.
That Cornewell trembles with the thoughtof warre:
And Tamersflood with drooping pace doth flowe,
For feare of touchingCamballsbloodie ſtreame.
Brytaineremember. write it on thy walles.
Which neyther tyme nortyrannie may race.
That Rebelles. Traytors and conſpirators,
Theſemenaryeof lewde Cat^eline,
TheBaſtardCoouie of Italian birdes.
Shall feele the flames of euer flamingfire.
Which are not quenched with a ſeaof teares.
And ſincein thee ſomeglorious ſtarremust ſhine.
Whenmany yeares and ages are expirde
Whoſebeames ſhallcleare the miſtof miſcontent
Andmake the dampe of Plutoespit retire.
Gorloi^swill neuer fray the Brytansmore.
For Brytainethen becomes an Angels land,
Both Diuels and ſpritesmuſtyeelde to Angels power,
Vnto the goddeſſeof the Angels land.
Vaunt Brytainevaunt, of her renowmed raigne,
Whoſeface deterres the hagges of hell from thee:
Whoſevertues holde the plagues of heauen from thee,
Whoſepreſencemakes the earth fruitfull to thee:
And with foreſightof her thrice happie daies,

BrytaineI leaue thee to an endleſſepraiſe.

Beſidestheſe ſpeaches there was alſo penned a Chorusforthe firſtact, and an other for the ſecond act, by Maiſter FrauncisFlower,which were pronounced accordingly. The dumbe ſhoweswere partly deuiſed by Maiſter ChristopherYeluerton, MaiſterFrauncisBacon,Maiſter IohnLancaſterand others, partlyby the ſaideMaiſter Flower,who withMaiſterPenr∞dockeandtheſaidMaiſter Lancaſterdirectedtheſeproceedingsat Court.