[]
KING ARTHUR: OR, THE BRITISH WORTHY. A MASQUE.
By Mr. DRYDEN.
As it is performed at the THEATRE-ROYAL in DRURY-LANE, By HIS MAJESTY'S Company.
The MUSIC by PURCELL and Dr. ARNE.
LONDON, Printed for W. STRAHAN, L. HAWES and Co. T. DAVIES, T. LOWNDS, T. BECKET, and W. GRIFFIN. 1770. [Price 1s.]
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]DRYDEN and PURCEL have made the following Performance hitherto regarded as one the beſt calculated to ſhew the Effects of Poetry, Action, and Muſic. It is now ſub⯑mitted to the Public, with every Attention the Managers could give it.—The ſucceſs of this, as well as of all other Theatrical Exhibitions, will wholly depend upon the preſent Taſte; but it is hoped, and believed, that the Names of Two of our greateſt Geniuſes in Poetry and Muſic, if they have Juſtice done them upon the Stage, bid fair for public Approbation.—There are ſome ſlight Alterations made, for the greater Convenience of Repreſentation; and ſome few Songs added, where it was thought ſuch Additions would be of Service to the whole.
Dramatis Perſonae.
[]MEN.
- Arthur, King of Britain,
- Mr. Reddiſh.
- Oſwald, King of Kent, a Saxon,
- Mr. Jefferſon.
- Conon, Duke of Cornwall, Friend to Arthur,
- Mr. Packer.
- Aurelius, a Britiſh Courtier,
- Mr. Keen.
- Albanact, a Britiſh Officer,
- Mr. Branſby.
- Guillamar, a Saxon Officer
- Mr. Wheeler.
- Merlin, the Britiſh Prophet,
- Mr. Aikin.
- Oſmond, a Saxon Magician,
- Mr. Palmer.
WOMEN.
- Emmeline, Daughter to Conon,
- Miſs Hayward.
- Matilda, her Attendant,
- Miſs Platt.
DEITIES, SPIRITS, &c, &c.
- Venus,
- Mrs. Scot.
- Cupid,
- Miſs Rogers.
- Aeolus,
- Mr. Champnes.
- Honour,
- Mr. Vernon.
- Philidel, an airy Spirit,
- Mrs. Baddeley.
- Airy Spirits,
- Mrs. Wrighten. Mrs. Dorman.
- Grimbald, a Fiend,
- Mr. Banniſter.
Officers, Soldiers, Prieſts, Shepherds, Nymphs, &c. &c. &c.
Scene lies in Kent.
[] KING ARTHUR: OR, THE BRITISH WORTHY.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Repreſents a Gothic temple, being a place of Heathen worſhip; the three Saxon Gods, Woden, Thor, and Freya, placed on pedeſtals.
Enter OSWALD and OSMOND.
OSM.
'TIS time to haſten our myſterious rites;
Becauſe your army waits you.
Oſw.
[making three bows.]
Thor, Freya,Woden, all ye Saxon powers,
Hear, and revenge my father Hengiſt's death.
Oſm.
Father of gods and men, great Woden, hear:
Mount thy hot courſer, drive amidſt thy foes;
Lift high thy thund'ring arm, let every blow hear:
Daſh out a miſbelieving Briton's brains.
Oſw.
Father of gods and men, great Woden,
Give conqueſt to the Saxon race, and me.
Oſm.
[2]Thor, Freya, Woden, hear, and ſpell your Saxons,
With ſacred Runic rhymes, from death in battle;
Edge their bright ſwords, and blunt th [...] Britons darts.
Grimbald, a fierce earthy ſpirit, eriſes.
No more, great prince, for ſee my truſty fiend,
Who all the night has wing'd the duſky air.
What news, my Grimbald?
Grim.
I have play'd my part;
For I have ſteel'd the fools that are to die;
Six fools, ſo prodigal of life and fool,
That for their country, they devote their lives
A ſacrifice to mother Earth, and Woden.
Oſm.
'Tis well; but are we ſure of victory?
Grim.
Why aſk'ſt thou me?
Inſpect their intrails, draw from thence thy gueſs:
Blood we muſt have, without it we are dumb.
Oſm.
Say, where's thy fellow-ſervant, Philidel?
Why comes not he?
Grim.
For he's a puling ſprite:
Why didſt thou chuſe a tender airy form,
Unequal to the mighty work of miſchief?
His make is flitting, ſoft, and yielding atoms;
He trembles at the yawning golph of hell,
Nor dares approach the flame, leſt he ſhould ſinge
His gaudy ſilken wings.
He ſighs when he ſhould plunge a ſoul in ſulphur,
As with compaſſion touch'd of fooliſh man.
Oſm.
What a half devil's he?
His errand was, to draw the low-land damps,
And noiſom vapours from the foggy fens:
Then, breathe the baleful ſtench, with all his force,
Full on the faces of our chriſten'd foes.
Grim.
Accordingly he drain'd thoſe marſhy⯑grounds;
And bagg'd 'em in a blue peſtiferous cloud;
Which when he ſhou'd have blown, the frighted elf
[3] Eſpy'd the red-croſs banners of their hoſt;
And ſaid he durſt not add to his damnation.
Oſm.
I'll puniſh him at leiſure.
Call in the victims to propitiate hell.
Grim.
That's my kind maſter, I ſhall breakfaſt on 'em.
[Exit Grim.
Oſw.
Ambitious fools we are,
And yet ambition is a godlike fault:
Or rather, 'tis no fault in ſouls born great,
Who dare extend their glory by their deeds.
Now Brittany prepare to change thy ſtate,
And from this day begin thy Saxon date.
Grimbald re-enters with ſix Saxons in white, with ſwords in their hands, prieſts and ſingers.
SACRIFICE SONG.
RECITATIVE I. Mr. Champnes.
Woden, firſt to thee,
A milk-white ſteed, in battle won,
We have ſacrific'd.
Chor.
We have ſacrific'd.
RECIT. II. Mr. Vernon.
Let our next oblation be
To Thor, thy thundering ſon,
Of ſuch another.
Chor.
We have ſacrific'd.
RECIT. III. Mr. Champnes.
A third (of Friezeland breed was he)
To Woden's wife, and to Thor's mother:
And now we have aton'd all three.
We have ſacrific'd.
Chor.
We have ſacrific'd.
RECIT. IV. Mr. Vernon.
[4]The white horſe neigh'd aloud.
CHORUS.
To Woden thanks we render;
To Woden we have vow'd;
To Woden our defender.
RECIT. V. Mrs. Scot.
The lot is caſt, and Tanfan pleas'd:
Of mortal cares you ſhall be eas'd.
CHORUS.
Brave ſouls to be renown'd in ſtory,
Honour prizing,
Death deſpiſing,
Fame acquiring,
By expiring,
Die and reap the fruit of glory.
AIR II. Mr. Vernon.
I call you all
To Woden's hall;
Your temples round,
With ivy bound,
In goblets crown'd,
And plenteous bowls of burniſh'd gold.
Where you ſhall laugh,
And dance, and quaff
The juice, that makes the Britons bold.
Chor.
Brave ſouls, &c.
[All retire, and the ſcene cloſes upon them.
SCENE II. A landſkip.
[5]Enter Aurelius, Albanact, and Conon.
Con.
[...] this is the deciding day, to fix
Great-Britain's ſcepter in great Arthur's hand.
Aur.
Or put it in the bold invader's gripe.
Arthur and Oſwald, and their different fates,
Are weighing now within the ſcales of heaven.
Con.
In ten ſet battles have we driven back
Theſe heathen Saxons, and regain'd our earth.
As earth recovers from an ebbing tide
Her half-drown'd face, and lifts it o'er the waves,
From Severn's bank, e'en to this barren down
Our foremoſt men have preſs'd their fainty rear,
And not one Saxon face has been beheld;
But all their backs and ſhoulders have been ſtuck
With foul diſhoneſt wounds; now here, indeed,
Becauſe they have no farther ground, they ſtand.
Aur.
Well have we choſe a happy day for fight;
For every man, in courſe of time, has found
Some days are lucky, ſome unfortunate.
Alb.
But why this day more lucky than the reſt?
Con.
Becauſe this day
Is ſacred to the patron of our iſle;
A Chriſtian, and a ſoldier's annual feaſt.
Alb.
Oh, now I underſtand you. This is St. George of Cappadocia's day. Well, it may be ſo, but faith I was ignorant; we ſoldiers ſeldom exa⯑mine the Rubrick; and now and then a ſaint may happen to ſlip by us: but if he be a gentleman ſaint, he will forgive us.
Con.
Oſwald undoubtedly will fight it bravely.
Aur.
And it behoves him well, 'tis his laſt ſtake. But what manner of man is this Oſwald? Have ye ever ſeen him?
[To Alb.
Alb.
Ne'er but once; and that was to my coſt too; I follow'd him too cloſe, and, to ſay the truth, [6] ſomewhat uncivilly, upon a rout: but he turned upon me, as quick and as round as a chaf'd boar; and gave me two licks a-croſs the face, to put me in mind of my chriſtianity.
Con.
I know him well; he's free and open-hearted.
Aur.
His country's character: that ſpeaks a German.
Con.
Revengeful, rugged, violently brave;
And once reſolv'd, is never to be mov'd.
Alb.
Yes, he's a valiant dog; pox on him.
Con.
This was the character he then maintain'd,
When in my court he ſought my daughter's love;
My fair, blind Emmeline.
Alb.
I cannot blame him for courting the heireſs of Cornwall: all heireſſes are beautiful: and as blind as ſhe is, he would have had no blind bargain of her.
Aur.
For that defeat in love he rais'd this war.
For royal Arthur reign'd within her heart,
'Ere Oſwald mov'd the ſuit.
Con.
Ay, now Aurelius, you have nam'd a man;
One, whom beſides the homage that I owe,
As Cornwall's duke, to his imperial crown,
I wou'd have choſen out from all mankind,
To be my ſovereign lord.
Aur.
His worth divides him from the croud of kings.
Con.
Arthur is all that's excellent in Oſwald;
And void of all his faults: in battle brave,
But ſtill ſerene in all the ſtormy war,
Like heaven above the clouds; and after fight,
As merciful and kind to vanquiſh'd foes,
As a forgiving God. But ſee, he's here,
And praiſe is dumb before him.
Enter King Arthur, reading a letter, with attendants.
Arth.
[reading.]
'Go on, auſpicious prince, the ſtars are kind.'Unfold thy banners to the willing wind;
[7] 'While I, with airy legions, help thy arms;
'Confronting art with art, and charms with charms.'
So Merlin writes; nor can we doubt th' event,
[To Con.
With heav [...] and you, our friends. Oh noble Conon,
You taught my tender hands the trade of war:
And now again you helm your hoary head,
And under double weight of age and arms,
Aſſert your country's freedom and my crown.
Con.
No more, my ſon.
Arth.
Moſt happy in that name!
Your Emmeline, to Oſwald's vows reſus'd,
You made my plighted bride:
Your charming daughter, who like love, born blind,
Un-aiming hits, with ſureſt archery,
And innocently kills.
Con.
Remember, ſon,
You are a general; other wars require you,
For ſee the Saxon groſs begins to move.
Arth.
Their infantry embattel'd, ſquare and cloſe,
March firmly on, to fill the middle [...]pace:
Cover'd by their advancing cavalry.
By heav'n 'tis beauteous horror!
The noble Oſwald has provok'd my envy.
Enter Emmeline, led by Matilda.
Ha! now my beauteous Emmeline appears,
A new, but oh, a ſofter flame inſpires me:
E'en rage and vengeance ſlumber at her ſight.
Con.
Haſte your farewell; I'll chear my troops, and wait ye.
[Exit Conon.
Em.
O father, father, I am ſure you're here;
Becauſe I ſee your voice.
Arth.
No, thou miſtak'ſt thy hearing for thy ſight:
He's gone, my Emmeline;
And I but ſtay to gaze on thoſe fair eyes,
Which cannot view the conqueſt they have made▪
Oh ſtar-like night, dark only to thy ſel [...],
But full of glory, as thoſe lamps of heaven
[8] That ſee not, when they ſhine.
Em.
What is this heav'n, and ſtars, and night, and day,
To which you thus compare my eyes and me?
I underſtand you, when you ſay you love:
For, when my father claſps my hand in his,
That's cold, and I can feel it hard and wrinkled;
But when you graſp it, then I ſigh, and pant,
And ſomething preſſes to my heart.
Arth.
Oh artleſs love! where the ſoul moves the tongue.
And only nature ſpeaks what nature thinks!
Had ſhe but eyes!
Em.
Juſt now you ſaid I had.
Arth.
But neither ſee.
Em.
I'm ſure they hear you then:
What can your eyes do more?
Arth.
They view your beauties.
Em.
Do not I ſee? you have a face, like mine.
Arth.
It is not ſight, but touching with your hands.
Em.
Then 'tis my hand that ſees, and that's all one:
For is not ſeeing, touching with your eyes?
Arth.
No, for I ſee at diſtance, where I touch not.
Em.
If you can ſee ſo far, and yet not touch,
I fear you ſee my naked legs and feet
Quite through my clothes; pray do not ſee ſo well.
Arth.
Fear not, ſweet innocence;
I view the lovely features of your face;
Your lips carnation, your dark-ſhaded eye-brows,
Black eyes, and ſnow-white forehead; all the co⯑lours
That make your beauty, and produce my love.
Em.
Nay, then, you do not love on equal terms:
I love you dearly, without all theſe helps:
I cannot ſee your lip's carnation,
Your ſhaded eye-brows, nor your milk-white eyes.
Arth.
Alas 'tis vain t' inſtruct your innocence.
[] You have no notion of light or colours
[Trumpet ſouuds within.
Em.
Why, is not that a trumpet?
Arth.
Yes.
Em.
I know it.
And I can-tell you how the ſound on't looks;
It looks as if it had an angry fighting face.
Arth.
'Tis now indeed a ſharp unpleaſant ſound,
Becauſe it calls me hence, from her I love,
To meet ten thouſand foes.
Em.
How does ſo many men e'er come to meet?
This devil trumpet vexes 'em, and then
They feel about for one another's faces;
And ſo they meet, and kill.
Arth.
I'll tell ye all, when we have gain'd the field;
One kiſs of your fair hand, the pledge of conqueſt.
And ſo ſhort a farewel.
[Kiſſes her hand, and exit with Aurel. Alb. and attendants.
Em.
My heart and vows go with him to the fight;
May every foe be that, which they call blind,
And none of all their ſwords have eyes to find him.
But lead me nearer to the trumpet's face;
For that brave ſound upholds my fainting heart;
And while I hear, methinks I fight my part.
[Exit led by Matilda.
SCENE III.
A Camp, Drums, Trumpets, and military Shouts.
MARTIAL SONG, ſung by Mr. Vernon.
Come if you dare, our trumpets ſound;
Come if you dare, the foes rebound:
We come, we come, we come, we come,
Says the double, double, double beat of the thund'ring drum.
[10] Now they charge on amain,
Now they rally again:
The gods from above the mad labour behold,
And pity mankind that will periſh for gold.
Cho.
Now [...] [...]arge, &c.
[Exeunt drums and [...]umpet, a march.
END of the FIRST ACT.
ACT II. SCENE I.
A general Engagement between the Britons and Saxons, in which the Britons are Conquerors.
SCENE II. A Rural Proſpect.
Enter Philidel.
Phil.
ALAS, for pity, of this bloody field!
Piteous it needs muſt be, when I, a ſpirit,
Can have ſo ſoft a ſenſe of human woes!
Ah! for ſo many ſouls, as but this morn
Were cloath'd with fleſh, and warm'd with vital blood,
But naked now, or ſhirted but with air.
A SONG.
O Peace, ſweet Peace, deſcend,
Of human woes the friend,
O charm to reſt this troubled iſle,
And o'er the land propitious ſmile;
Thy ſmile can chaſe theſe clouds away,
From darkeſt night bring forth the day.
O Peace, ſweet Peace, appear,
And plant thy olive here.
SCENE draws and diſcovers Merlin's Cave.
[11]He comes forward.
Mer.
What art thou, ſpirit? of what name or order?
(For I have view'd thee in my magic glaſs)
Making thy moan among the midnight wolves,
That bay the ſilent moon: ſpeak, I conjure thee.
'Tis Merlin bids thee, at whoſe awful wand,
The pale ghoſt quivers, and the grim fiend gaſps.
Phil.
An airy ſhape, the tend'reſt of my kind,
The laſt ſeduc'd, and leaſt deform'd of hell;
Half white, and ſhuffl'd in the crowd, I fell,
Deſirous to repent, and loth to ſin;
Aukward in miſchief, piteous of mankind.
My name is Philidel, my lot in air,
Where next beneath the moon and neareſt heav'n,
I ſoar and have a glimpſe to be receiv'd,
For which the ſwarthy daemons envy me.
Mer.
Thy buſineſs here?
Phil.
To ſhun the Saxon wizard's dire commands.
Oſmond, the awfull'ſt name next thine below.
'Cauſe I refuſe to hurl a noiſom fog
On chriſten'd heads, the hue-and-cry of hell
Is rais'd againſt me for a fugitive ſprite.
Mer.
Oſmond ſhall know, a greater power pro⯑tects thee;
But follow then the whiſpers of thy ſoul,
That draw thee nearer heav'n.
And as thy place is neareſt to the ſky,
The rays will reach thee firſt, and bleach thy ſoot.
Phil.
In hope of that, I ſpread my azure wings,
And wiſhing ſtill, for yet I dare not pray,
I baſk in day-light, and behold with joy
My ſcum work outward, and my ruſt wear off.
Mer.
Why, that's my hopeful ſpirit, now mark me, Philidel,
[12] I will employ thee for thy future good:
Thou know'ſt, in ſpite of valiant Oſwald's arms,
Or Oſmond's powerful ſpells, the field is ours—
Phil.
Oh maſter! haſten
Thy dread commands; for Grimbal [...] at hand,
Oſmond's fierce fiend; I ſnuff his [...]rthy ſcent:
The conquering Britons he miſleads to rivers,
Or dreadful downfalls of unheeded rocks;
Where many fall, that ne'er ſhall riſe again.
Mer.
Be that thy care, to ſtand by falls of brooks,
And trembling bogs, that bear a green-ſward ſhow.
Warn off the bold purſuers from the chace:
No more, they come, and we divide the taſk.
But leſt fierce Grimbald's pond'rous bulk oppreſs
Thy tender flitting air, I'll leave my band
Of ſpirits with united ſtrength to aid thee,
And force with force repel.
[Exeunt Merlin and Philidel into the cave.
SCENE a wood.
Enter Grimbald and his followers diſguiſed like ſhep⯑herds, leading king Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, Alba⯑nact, and attendants.
Grim.
Here, this way, Britons, follow Oſwald's flight.
This evening as I whiſtled out my dog,
To drive my ſtraggling flock, and pitch'd my fold,
I ſaw him dropping ſweat, o'erlabour'd, ſtiff,
Make faintly as he could, to yonder dell.
Tread in my ſteps: long neighbourhood by day
Has made theſe fields familiar in the night.
Arth.
I thank thee, ſhepherd;
Expect reward, lead on, we follow thee.
[As Arthur is going off, enter Philidel and his followers.
[13]SONG. Sung by Philidel.
Hither this way, this way bend,
Truſt not that malicicus fiend:
Thoſe are falſe deluding lights,
Waſted far and near by ſprites,
Truſt'em not, for they'll deceive ye;
And in bogs and marſhes leave you.
Chor. of Phil. ſpirits.
Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. ſpirits.
This way, this way bend.
Phil. ſings.
If you ſtep, no danger thinking,
Down you fall, a furlong ſinking:
'Tis a fiend who has annoy'd ye;
Name but Heav'n, and he'll avoid ye.
Chor. of Phil. ſpirits.
Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. ſpirits
This way, this way bend.
Philidel's ſpirits.
Truſt not that malicious fiend.
Grimbald's ſpirits.
Truſt me, I am no malicious fiend.
Philidel's ſpirits.
Hither this way, &c.
Grimb.
By Hell ſhe ſings them back, in my de⯑ſpite.
I had a voice in Heav'n, ere ſulph'rous ſteams
Had damp'd it to a hoarſeneſs: try it now.
SONG.
Let not a moon-born elf miſlead ye
From your prey, and from your glory.
Too far, alas, he has betray'd ye:
Follow the flames, that wave before ye:
Sometimes ſev'n, and ſometimes one;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.
II.
See, ſee, the footſteps plain appearing,
That way Oſwald choſe for flying:
Firm is the turf, and fit for bearing,
Where yonder pearly dews are lying,
[14] Far be cannot bence be gone;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.
Arth.
'Tis true, he ſays; the footſteps [...] are freſh
Upon the ſod, no falling dew-drops have
Diſturb'd the print.
[All are going to follow Grimbald.
Phil. ſings.
Hither this way.
Chorus of Phil. ſpirits.
Hither this way, this way bend.
Chorus of Grimb. ſpirits.
This way, this way bend.
Philidel's ſpirits.
Truſt not that malicious fiend.
Grimb. ſpirits.
Truſt me, I am no malicious fiend.
Philidel's ſpirits.
Hither this way, &c.
[They all incline to Philidel.
Grim. ſpeaks.
Curſe on her voice, I muſt my prey forego;
Thou, Philidel, ſhalt anſwer this below.
[Grimbald ſinks in a flaſh of fire.
Arth.
At laſt the cheat is plain;
The cloven-footed fiend is vaniſh'd from us;
Good angels be our guides, and bring us back.
Phil. ſinging.
Come follow, follow, follow me.
Chor.
Come follow, &c.
And me. And me. And me.
Verſ. 2 Voc.
And green-ſward all your way ſhall be.
Chor.
Come follow, &c.
Verſ.
No goblin or elf ſhall dare to offend ye.
Chor.
No, no, no, &c.
No goblin or elf ſhall dare to offend ye.
Verſ. 3 Voc.
We brethren of air,
You heroes will bear
To the kind and the fair that attend ye.
Chor.
We brethren, &c.
[Philidel, and the ſpirits go off ſinging, with king Arthur, and the reſt in the middle of them.
SCENE V. A Camp and Emmeline's Pavilion, with a bank.
[15]Enter Emmeline led by Matilda.
Em.
No news of my dear love, or of my father?
Mat.
None, madam, ſince the gaining of the battle:
Great Arthur is a royal conqueror now;
And well deſerves your love.
Em.
But now I fear
He'll be too great to love poor ſilly me.
If he be dead, or never come again,
I mean to die: but there's a greater doubt;
Since I ne'er ſaw him here,
How ſhall I meet him in another world?
Mat.
Indeed I know not.
Em.
I ſhould find him,
For ſurely I have ſeen him in my ſleep;
And then methought he put his mouth to mine,
And eat a thouſand kiſſes on my lips.
Sure by his kiſſing I could find him out,
Among a thouſand angels in the ſky.
Mat.
But what a kind of man do you ſuppoſe him?
Em.
He muſt be made of the moſt precious things,
And I believe his mouth, and eyes, and cheeks,
And noſe, and all his face, are made of gold.
Mat.
Heav'n bleſs us, madam, what a face you make him!
If it be yellow he muſt have the jaundice,
And that's a bad diſeaſe.
Em.
Why then do lovers give a thing ſo bad
As gold, to women, whom ſo well they love?
Mat.
Becauſe that bad thing, gold, buys all good things.
Em.
Yet I muſt know him better: of all colours,
Tell me which is the pureſt, and the ſofteſt.
Mat.
[16]They ſay 'tis black.
Em.
Why then, ſince gold is hard, and yet is pre⯑cious,
His face muſt all be made of ſoft black gold.
Mat.
But, madam—
Em.
No more; I have learn'd enough for once.
Mat.
Here are a crew of Kentiſh lads and laſſes,
Wou'd entertain you, till your lord's return,
With ſongs and dances, to divert your cares.
Em.
O bring 'em in.
For tho' I cannot ſee the ſongs, I love 'em;
And love, they tell me, is a dance of hearts.
Enter Kentiſh Lads and Laſſes.
SONG. Sung by Mr. Vernon.
I.
How bleſt are ſhepherds, how happy their laſſes,
While drums and trumpets are ſounding alarms!
Over our lowly ſheds all the ſtorm paſſes;
And when we die, 'tis in each others arms.
All the day on our herds, and flocks employing:
All the night on our flutes, and in enjoying.
Chor.
All the day, &c.
II.
Bright Nymphs of Britain, with graces attended,
Let not your days without pleaſure expire;
Honour's but empty, and when youth is ended,
All men will praiſe you, but none will deſire.
Let not youth fly away without contenting;
Age will come time enough for your repenting.
Chor.
Let not youth, &c.
DUETTO. Mrs. Scott, and Mrs. Dorman.
Shepherds, ſhepherds, leave decoying,
Pipes are ſweet a ſummer's day;
But a little after toying,
Women have the ſ [...]ot to pay.
II.
Here are marriage vows for ſigning,
Set their marks that cannot write:
After that, without repining,
Play, and welcome, day and night.
CHORUS.
Come, ſhepherds, lead up a lively meaſure;
The [...] of wedlock are c [...]res [...] pleaſure;
But whether marriage bring joy or ſorrow,
Make ſure of this day, and hang to-morrow
[They dance after the ſong; and exeunt ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes.
Enter, on the other ſide of the Stage, Oſwald and Guillamar.
Oſw.
The night has wilder'd us; and we are fall'n
Among their formoſt tents.
Guil.
Ha! what are theſe!
They ſeem of more than vulgar quality.
Em.
What ſounds are thoſe? They cannot far be diſtant;
Where are we now, Matilda?
Mat.
Juſt before your tent.
Fear not, they muſt be friends, and they approach.
Em.
My Arthur, ſpeak, my love, are you return'd
To bleſs your Emmelice?
Oſw.
[to Guilla.]
I know that face:'Tis the ungrateful fair, who, ſcorning mine,
[18] Accepts my rival's love: heaven, thou'rt bounteous,
Thou ow'ſt me nothing now.
Mat.
Fear grows upon me:
Speak what you are; ſpeak, or I call for help.
Oſw.
We are your guards.
Mat.
Ah me! we are betray'd; 'tis Oſwald's voice.
Em.
Let them not ſee our voices, and then they cannot find us.
Oſw.
Paſſions in men oppreſs'd are doubly ſtrong,
I take her from king Arthur; there's revenge;
If ſhe can love, ſhe buoys my ſinking fortunes:
Good reaſons both: I'll on—Fear nothing ladies,
You ſhall be ſafe.
Oſwald and Guillamar ſeize Emmeline and Matilda.
Em. and Matil.
Help, help!
Oſw.
By heav'n ye injure me; tho' force is us'd,
Your honour ſhall be ſacred.
Em.
Help, help, Oh, Britons, help.
Oſw.
Your Britons cannot help you;
This arm, thro' all their troops, ſhall force my way:
Yet neither quit my honour nor my prey.
[Exeunt, the women ſtill crying.
[An alarm within; and a cry of Follow, follow, follow.
Enter Albanact, Captain of the Guards, and Soldiers.
Alb.
Which way went th' alarm?
I Sol.
Here, towards the caſtle.
Alb.
Plague o' this victory, and ſtop your ſhout⯑ing;
The princeſs in the clutches of your foes
Blaſts all our laurels—a hundred victories
Will not half pay the loſs of Emmeline:
We are outwitted by the Saxons;
[19] But 'tis no wonder, the whole camp's debauch'd,
All drunk or whoring:—this way.
Enter an Officer.
Offic.
How ſits the conqueſt on great Arthur's brow?
Alb.
As when the lover with the king is mixt,
He puts the gain of Britain in a ſcale,
Which weighing with the loſs of Emmeline,
He thinks he's ſcarce a ſaver.
[Trumpet within.
Offic.
Hark! a trumpet!
It ſounds a parley.
Alb.
'Tis from Oſwald then,
An echo to king Arthur's friendly ſummons,
Sent ſince he heard the rape of Emmeline,
To aſk an interview.
[Trumpet anſwering the other ſide.
Offic.
But hark! already
Our trumpet makes reply; and ſee both preſent.
[Exit.
SCENE VI. A Camp at a diſtance.
Enter Arthur on one ſide attended, Oſwald on the other with attendants, and Guillamar. They meet and ſalute.
Arth.
Brave Oſwald! We have met on friendlier terms,
Companions of a war, with common intereſt
Againſt the bordering Picts: but times are chang'd.
Oſw.
And I am ſorry that thoſe times are chang'd:
For elſe we now might meet on terms as friendly.
Arth.
If ſo we meet not now, the fault's your own;
For you have wrong'd me much.
Oſw.
Oh! you wou'd tell me,
I call'd more Saxons in, t'enlarge my bounds:
If thoſe be wrongs, the war has well redreſs'd ye.
Arth.
[20]Miſtake me not, I count not war a wrong:
War is the trade of kings that fight for empire:
And better be a lion than a ſheep.
Oſw.
In what then have I wrong'd ye?
Arth.
In my love.
Oſw.
Even love's an empire too: the noble ſoul,
Like kings, is covetous of ſingle ſway.
Arth.
I blame ye not for loving Emmeline:
But ſince the ſoul is free, and love is choice,
You ſhould have made a conqueſt of her mind,
And not have forc'd her perſon by a rape.
Oſw.
Whether by force, or ſtratagem, we gain,
Still gaining is our end, in war or love.
Her mind's the jewel in her body lock'd;
If I would gain the gem, and want the key,
It follows I muſt ſeize the cabinet:
But to ſecure your fear, her honour is untouch'd.
Arth.
Was honour ever ſafe in brutal hands?
So ſafe are lambs within the lion's paw;
Ungripp'd and play'd with till fierce hunger calls,
Then nature ſhews itſelf; the cloſe-hid nails
Are ſtretch'd, and open, to the panting prey.
But if, indeed, you are ſo cold a lover—
Oſw.
Not cold, but honourable.
Arth.
Then reſtore her:
That done, I ſhall believe you honourable.
Oſw.
Think'ſt thou I will forgo a victor's right?
Arth.
Say rather, of an impious raviſher.
That caſtle, were it wall'd with adamant,
Can hide thy head but till to-morrow's dawn.
Oſw.
And ere to-morrow I may be a god,
If Emmeline be kind: but kind or cruel,
I tell thee, Arthur, but to ſee this day,
That heavenly face, tho' not to have her mine,
I would give up a hundred years of life,
And bid Fate cut to-morrow.
Arth.
[21]It ſoon will come, and thou repent too late,
Which to prevent, I'll bribe thee to be honeſt.
Thy noble head, accuſtom'd to a crown,
Shall wear it ſtill, nor ſhall thy hand forget
The ſcepter's uſe: from Medway's pleaſing ſtream,
To Severn's roar, be thine;
In ſhort, reſtore my love, and ſhare my kingdom.
Oſw.
Not tho' you ſpread my ſway from Thames to Tiber:
Such gifts might bribe a king, but not a lover.
Arth.
Then pr'ythee give me back my kingly word
Paſs'd for thy ſafe return; and let this hour,
In ſingle combat, hand in hand, decide
The fate of empire and of Emmeline.
Oſw.
Not that I fear do I decline this combat,
And not decline it neither, but defer:
When Emmeline has been my prize as long
As ſhe was thine, I dare thee to the duel.
Arth.
I nam'd your utmoſt term of life; to⯑morrow.
Oſw.
You are not fate.
Arth.
But fate is in this arm.
You might have made a merit of your theft.
Oſw.
Ha! theft! Your guards can tell I ſtole her not.
Arth.
Had I been preſent—
Oſw.
Had you been preſent, ſhe had been mine more nobly.
Arth.
There lies your way.
Oſw.
My way lies where I pleaſe.
Expect (for Oſmond's magic cannot fail)
A long to-morrow, ere your arms prevail:
Or if I fall make room ye bleſt above,
For one who was undone, and dy'd for love.
[Exit Oſwald and his party.
Arth.
[22]There may be one black minute e'er to⯑morrow:
For who can tell, what power, and luſt, and charms,
May do this night? To arms, with ſpeed, to arms.
[Exeunt.
END of the SECOND ACT.
ACT III.
SCENE I. of rocks and water.
Enter Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, &c.
Con.
FURL up our colours, and unbrace our drums;
Diſlodge betimes, and quit this fatal coaſt,
Arth.
Have we forgot to conquer?
Aur.
Caſt off hope:
Th' imbattl'd legions of fire, air, and earth,
Are banded for our foes.
For going to diſcover, with the dawn,
Yon ſouthern hill, which promis'd to the ſight
A riſe more eaſy to attack the fort,
Scarce had we ſtept on the forbidden ground,
When the woods ſhook, the trees ſtood briſtling up;
A living trembling nodded thro' the leaves.
Arth.
Poplars, and aſpen-boughs, a panic fright!
Con.
We thought ſo too, and doubled ſtill our pace,
But ſtrait a rumbling ſound, like bellowing winds,
Roſe and grew loud; confus'd with howls of wolves,
And grunts of bears, and dreadful hiſs of ſnakes;
Shrieks more than human; globes of hail pour'd down
An armed winter, and inverted day.
Arth.
[2]Dreadful indeed!
Aur.
Count then our labours loſt:
For other way lies none, to mount the cliff,
Unleſs we borrow wings, and ſail thro' air.
Arth.
Now I perceive a danger worthy me.
'Tis Oſmond's work, a band of hell-hir'd ſlaves:
Be mine the hazard, mine ſhall be the fame.
[Arthur going out, is met by Merlin, who takes him by the hand and brings him back.
Enter Merlin.
Mer.
Hold, Sir, and wait Heav'n's time, th' at⯑tempt's too dangerous:
There's not a tree in that enchanted grove,
But number'd out, and giv'n by tale to fiends:
And under every leaf a ſpirit couch'd.
But by what method to diſſolve theſe charms,
Is yet unknown to me.
Arth.
Hadſt thou been here, (for what can thwart thy ſkill?)
Nor Emmeline had been the boaſt of Oſwald;
Nor I, forewarn'd, been wanting to her guard.
Con.
Her darken'd eyes had ſeen the light of Heav'n;
That was thy promiſe too, and this the time.
Mer.
Nor has my aid been abſent, tho' unſeen,
With friendly guides in your benighted maze:
Nor Emmeline ſhall longer want the ſun.
Arth.
Is there an end of woes?
Mer.
There is, and ſudden.
I have employ'd a ſubtle airy ſprite
T' explore the paſſage, and prepare thy way.
Myſelf, mean time, will view the magic wood,
To learn whereon depends its force.
Con.
But Emmeline—
Mer.
Fear not: this vial ſhall reſtore her ſight.
Arth.
Oh might I hope (and what's impoſſible
[24] To Merlin's art?) to be myſelf the bearer,
That with the light of Heav'n ſhe may diſcern
Her lover firſt.
Mer.
'Tis wond'rous hazardous;
Yet I foreſee th' event, 'tis fortunate.
I'll bear ye ſafe, and bring ye back unharm'd:
Then loſe not precious time, but follow me.
[Exeunt omnes, Merlin leading Arthur.
SCENE II. a wood, with the ſun.
Enter Philidel.
Phil.
I left all ſafe behind;
For in the hindmoſt quarter of the wood,
My former lord, grim Oſmond, walks the round:
Calls o'er the names, and ſchools the tardy ſprites.
His abſence gives me more ſecurity.
At every walk I paſs'd, I drew a ſpell:
So that if any fiend, abhorring Heav'n,
There ſets his foot, it roots him to the ground.
Now cou'd I but diſcover Emmeline,
My taſk was fairly done.
Grimbald ruſhes out: he ſeizes Philidel, and binds him in a chain.
Grim.
O rebel, have I caught thee!
Phil.
Ah me! what hard miſhap!
Grim.
What juſt revenge!
Thou miſcreant elf, thou renegado ſcout,
So clean, ſo furbiſh'd, ſo renew'd in white.
The livery of our foes; I ſee thee thro':
What mak'ſt thou here? Thou trim apoſtate, ſpeak.
Thou ſhak'ſt for fear, I feel thy falſe heart pant.
Phil.
Ah mighty Grimbald,
Who would not fear, when ſeiz'd in thy ſtrong gripe!
[25] But hear me,—oh renown'd, oh worthy fiend,
The favourite of our chief.
Grim.
Away with fulſome flattery,
The fo [...]d of fools; thou know'ſt where laſt we met;
When, but for thee, the Chriſtians had been ſwal⯑low'd
In quaking bogs, and living ſent to hell.
Phil.
Ay, then I was ſeduc'd by Merlin's art,
And half perſuaded by his ſoothing tales,
To hope for heav'n; as if eternal doom
Cou'd be revers'd, and undecreed for me;
But I am now ſet right.
Grim.
Oh ſtill thou think'ſt to fly a fool to mark.
Phil.
I fled from Merlin, free as air that bore me,
T'unfold to Oſmyn all his deep deſigns.
Grim.
I believe nothing: oh, thou fond im⯑poſtor,
When wert thou laſt in hell? Is not thy name
Forgot, and blotted from th' infernal roll?
But ſince thou ſay'ſt thy errand was to Oſmond,
To Oſmond ſhalt thou go: March, know thy driver.
Phil.
[kneeling]
Oh ſpare me, Grimbald, and I'll be thy ſlave:Tempt hermits for thee in their holy cells,
And virgins in their dreams.
Grim.
Canſt thou, a devil, hope to cheat a devil?
A ſpy! why that's a name abhorr'd in hell.
Haſte, forward, forward, or I'll goad thee on
With iron ſpurs.
Phil.
But uſe me kindly then:
Pull not ſo hard, to hurt my airy limbs;
I'll follow thee unforc'd: Look, there's thy way.
Grim.
Ay, there's thy way indeed; but for more ſurety
[26] I'll keep an eye behind: Not one word more,
But follow decently.
[Grim. goes out, dragging Phil.
Phil.
So catch him, ſpell.
[Aſide.
Grim.
[within.]
O help me, help me, Philidel.Phil.
Why, what's the matter?
Grim.
Oh, I am enſnar'd;
Heav'n's birdlime wraps me round, and glues my wings.
Looſe me, and I will free thee:
Do, and I'll be thy ſlave.
Phil.
What, to a ſpy, a name abhorr'd in hell?
Grim.
Do not inſult. Oh! oh! I grow to ground;
The fiery net draws cloſer on my limbs. Oh! oh! oh!
Phil.
Thou ſhalt not have the eaſe to curſe in torments:
Be dumb for one half hour: ſo long my charm
Can keep thee ſilent, and there lie
Till Oſmond breaks thy chain.
[Philidel unbinds his own fetters.
Enter to him Merlin, with a vial in his hand; and Arthur.
Mer.
Well haſt thou wrought thy ſafety with thy wit,
My Philidel; go meritorious on:
Me other work requires, to view the wood,
And learn to make the dire inchantments void;
Mean time attend king Arthur in my room;
Shew him his love, and with theſe ſovereign drops
Reſtore her ſight.
[Exit Merlin, giving a vial to Philidel.
Arth.
O yonder, yonder ſhe's already found:
My ſoul directs my ſight, and flies before it.
[27] See where ſhe ſits beneath the poplar ſhade;
Now, gentle ſpirit, uſe thy utmoſt art,
Unſeal her eyes, and this way lead her ſteps,
While I conceal myſelf, and feaſt my eyes
By viewing hers, new opening to the day.
[Arthur withdraws.
RECITATIVE.
Phil.
We muſt work, we muſt haſte;
Noon-tide hour is almoſt paſt.
Spriles that glimmer in the ſun,
Into ſhades already run;
Oſmond will be here anon.'
SONG.
To virtue with rapture I bear,
The balſam to heal, the cordial to cheer.
When vice is oppreſſing,
Purſuing, diſtreſſing,
Juſt Heav'n with virtue takes part;
For ſorrow, and ſadneſs,
Brings comfort and gladneſs,
To cloſe ev'ry wound of the heart.
Enter Emmeline and Matilda at the upper end of the wood.
Emmeline and Matilda come forward.
Philidel approaches Emmeline, ſprinkling ſome of the water over her eyes out of the vial.
Phil.
Thus, thus I infuſe
Theſe ſovereign dews.
Fly back, ye films, that cloud her ſight:
And you, ye cryſtal humours bright,
[28] Your noxious vapours purg'd away,
Recover and admit the day.
New caſt your eyes abroad, and ſee All but me.
Em.
Ha! what was that? Who ſpoke?
Mat.
I heard the voice; 'tis one of Oſmond's fiends.
Em.
Some bleſſed angel ſure; I feel my eyes
Unſeal'd, they walk abroad, and a new world
Comes ruſhing on, and ſtands all gay before me.
Mat.
Oh Heav'ns! Oh joy of joys! ſhe has her ſight.
Em.
I am new-born; I ſhall run mad for plea⯑ſure.
[Staring on Mat.
Are women ſuch as thou? Such glorious crea⯑tures?
Arth.
[aſide.]
Oh how I envy her, to be firſt ſeen!Em.
Stand farther; let me take my fill of ſight.
[Looking up.
What's that above that weakens my new eyes,
Makes me not ſee, by ſeeing?
Mat.
'Tis the ſun.
Em.
The ſun! 'tis ſure a God, if that be heav'n:
Oh! if thou art a creature, beſt and faireſt,
How well art thou, from mortals ſo remote,
To ſhine and not to burn, by near approach!
How haſt thou lighten'd even my very ſoul,
And let in knowledge by another ſenſe!
I gaze about, new-born to day and thee;
A ſtranger yet, an infant to the world!
Art thou not pleas'd, Matilda? Why, like me,
Doſt thou not look and wonder?
Mat.
For theſe ſights
Are to my eyes familiar.
Em.
[29]That's my joy,
Not to have ſeen before: for nature now
Comes all at once, confounding my delight.
But ah! what thing am I? Fain would I know;
Or am I blind, or do I ſee but half?
With all my care, and looking round about,
I cannot view my face.
Mat.
None ſee themſelves
But by reflection; in this glaſs you may.
[Gives her a glaſs.
Em.
[looking in the glaſs]
What's this?It holds a face within it: O ſweet face!
It draws the mouth, and ſmiles, and looks upon me;
And talks, but yet I cannot hear it ſpeak;
The pretty thing is dumb.
Mat.
The pretty thing
You ſee within the glaſs, is You.
Em.
What, am I two? Is this another me?
Indeed it wears my clothes, has hands like mine;
And mocks whate'er I do; but that I'm ſure
It cannot be, I'd ſwear it were my child.
[Matilda looks.
Look, my Matilda; we both are in the glaſs.
Oh, now I know it plain; they are our names,
That peep upon us there.
Mat.
Our ſhadows, Madam.
Em.
Mine is the prettier ſhadow far, than thine.
I love it; let me kiſs my t'other ſelf.
[Kiſſing the glaſs.
Alas, I've kiſs'd it dead; the fine thing's gone;
Indeed it kiſs'd ſo cold as if 'twere dying.
[Arthur comes forward ſoftly; ſhewing him⯑ſelf behind her.
'Tis here again.
Oh, no, this face is neither mine nor thine:
[30] I think the glaſs hath borne another child.
[She turns and ſees Arthur.
Ha! What art thou, with a new kind of face,
And other clothes, a noble creature too;
But taller, bigger, fiercer in thy look;
Of a controuling eye, majeſtic make?
Mat.
Do you not know him, Madam?
Em.
Is't a man?
Arth.
Yes, and the moſt unhappy of my kind,
If you have chang'd your love.
Em.
My deareſt Lord!
Was my ſoul blind; and cou'd not that look out,
To know you, ere you ſpoke? Oh counterpart
Of our ſoft ſex; Well are you made our lords:
So bold, ſo great, ſo godlike are you form'd.
How can you love ſuch ſilly things as women?
Arth.
Beauty like your's commands; and man was made
But a more boiſterous, and a ſtronger ſlave,
To you, the beſt delights of human kind.
Em.
But are ye mine? Is there an end of war?
Are all thoſe trumpets dead themſelves, at laſt,
That us'd to kill men with their thund'ring ſounds?
Arth.
The ſum of war is undecided yet;
And many a breathing body muſt be cold,
Ere you are free.
Em.
How came you hither then?
Arth.
By Merlin's art, to ſnatch a ſhort liv'd bliſs;
To feed my famiſh'd love upon your eyes,
One moment, and depart.
Em.
O moment! worth
Whole ages paſt, and all that are to come!
Let love ſick Oſwald, now unpitied mourn;
Let Oſmond mutter charms to ſprites in vain,
To make me love him; all ſhall not change my ſool.
Arth.
Ha! Does th' enchanter practiſe hell upon you?
Is he my rival too?
Em.
[31]Yes, but I hate him;
For when he ſpoke, thro' my ſhut eyes I ſaw him;
His voice look'd ugly, and breath'd brimſtone on me:
And then I firſt was glad that I was blind,
Not to behold perdition.
Phil.
This time is left me to congratulate
Your new-born eyes; and tell you what you gain
By ſight reſtor'd, and viewing him you love.
Appear you airy forms.
Airy Spirits appear in the ſhape of Women.
Sung by Mrs. Wrighten.
Oh ſight, the mother of deſires,
What charming objects doſt thou yield!
'Tis ſweet when tedious night expires,
To ſee the roſy morning gild
The mountain tops, and paint the field!
But when ſweet Emm'line comes in ſight,
She make's the ſummer's day more bright,
And when ſhe goes away 'tis night.
'Tis ſweet the bluſhing morn to view;
And plains adorn'd with pearly dew:
But ſuch cheap delights to ſee,
Heaven and nature
Give each creature;
They have eyes as well as we;
This is the joy, all joys above,
To ſee, to ſee,
That only ſhe
Chor.
Whoſe eyes can light with love, &c.
[Spirits vaniſh.
Enter Merlin.
Merl.
My ſovereign, we have hazarded too far;
But love excuſes you, and preſcience me.
Make haſte; for Oſmond is even now alarm'd,
And greedy of revenge is haſting home.
Arth.
Oh take my love with us, or leave me here.
Merl.
I cannot, for ſhe's held by charms too ſtrong;
[32] Which, with th' enchanted grove, muſt be deſtroy'd:
Till when, my art is vain: but fear not, Emmeline;
Th' enchanter has no power on innocence.
Em.
[to Arth.]
Farewell, ſince we muſt part:When you are gone,
I'll look into my glaſs, juſt where you look'd,
To find your face again;
If 'tis not there, I'll think on you ſo long,
My heart ſhall make your picture for my eyes.
Arth.
Where e'er I go, my ſoul ſhall ſtay with thee:
'Tis but my ſhadow that I take away:
True love is never happy but by halves;
An April ſunſhine, that by fits appears,
It ſmiles by moments, but it mourns by years.
Em.
May all good angels ſpread their wings,
And ſhield my love from harm.
[Ex. Arth. Em. and Matil.
SCENE III. a Landſkip.
Re-enter Emmeline and Matilda.
Em.
This way, this way, Matilda;
Now my Arthur's gone, the lovelieſt object
To my new-born ſight, I'll look round and round
Upon the leſſer beauties of creation.
Enter Oſmond at the other door, who gazes on Em⯑meline, and ſhe on him.
Em.
Ha! I'm deceiv'd; ſave me from this ugly thing,
This foe to ſight! ſpeak; doſt thou know him?
Mat.
Too well; 'tis Oſwald's fiend, the great magician.
Em.
It cannot be a man, he's ſo unlike the man I love.
Oſm.
[Aſide.]
Death to my eyes, ſhe ſees!Em.
I wiſh I could not; but I'll cloſe my ſight,
And ſhut out all I can—It wo'not be;
Winking, I ſee thee ſtill, thy odious image
Stares full into my ſoul; and there infects the room
[33] My Arthur ſhou'd poſſeſs.
Oſm.
[Aſide.]
I find too late,That Merlin and her lover have been here.
If I was fir'd before when ſhe was blind,
Her eyes dart lightning now; ſhe muſt be mine.
Em.
I pr'ythee, dreadful thing, tell me thy buſi⯑neſs here;
And, if thou canſt, reform that odious face;
Look not ſo grim upon me.
Oſm.
My name is Oſmond; and my buſineſs, love.
Em.
Thou haſt a grizly look forbidding what thou aſk'ſt,
If I durſt tell thee ſo.
Oſm.
My pent-houſe eye-brows, and my ſhaggy beard,
Offend your ſight, but theſe are manly ſigns:
Faint white and red abuſe your expectations;
Be woman; know your ſex, and love full pleaſures.
Em.
Love from a monſter, fiend?
Oſm.
Come, you muſt love; or you muſt ſuffer love;
No coyneſs, none, for I am maſter here.
Em.
And when did Oſwald give away his power,
That thou preſum'ſt to rule? Be ſure I'll tell him:
For as I am his priſoner, he is mine.
Oſm.
Why then thou art a captive to a captive.
O'er-labour'd with the fight, oppreſt with thirſt,
That Oſwald, whom you mention'd, call'd for drink,
I mix'd a ſleepy potion in his bowl,
Which he and his fool friend quaff'd greedily.
The happy doſe wrought the deſir'd effect;
Then to a dungeon's depth I ſent both bound;
Where, ſtow'd with ſnakes and adders, now they lodge;
Two planks their beds, ſlippery with ooſe and ſlime,
The rats, that bruſh o'er their faces with their tails,
And croaking paddocks, crawl upon their limbs;
Since when the garriſon depends on me;
Now know you are my ſlave.
Mat.
[34]He ſtrikes a horror thro' my blood.
Em.
I freeze, as if his impious art had fix'd
My feet to earth.
Oſm.
But love ſhall thaw ye.
I'll ſhow his force in countries cak'd with ice,
Where the pale pole ſtar, in the north of heav'n,
Sits high, and on the froſty winter broods;
Yet there love reigns: for proof, this magic wand
Shall change the mildneſs of ſweet Britain's clime
To Iceland, and the fartheſt Thule's froſt,
Where the proud god, diſdaining winter's bounds,
Oe'rleaps the fences of eternal ſnow,
And with his warmth ſupplies the diſtant ſun.
Oſmond waves his wand. The Scene changes to a ſtormy wintry country.
Enter Cupid.
RECITATIVE. Miſs Rogers.
What ho, thou genius of the clime, what ho!
Ly'ſt thou aſleep beneath thoſe hills of ſnow?
Stretch out thy lazy limbs; awake, awake,
And winter from thy furry mantle ſhake.
Genius ariſes upon a bank of ice.
AIR. Mr. Champnes.
What power art thou, who from below
Haſt made me riſe, unwillingly, and ſlow,
From beds of everlaſting ſnow?
See'ſt thou not how ſtiff and wond'rous old,
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold,
I can ſcarcely move or draw my breath?
Let me, let me, freeze again to death.
AIR. Cupid.
Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear;
What, doſt thou dream of freezing here?
At Love's appearing all the ſky clearing,
The ſtormy winds their fury ſpare:
Winter ſubduing, and ſpring renewing.
My beams create a more glorious year.
Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear;
What, doſt thou dream of freezing here?
AIR. Mr. Champnes.
Great Love, I know thee now;
Eldeſt of the gods art thou:
Heav'n and earth by thee were made,
Human nature
Is thy creature;
Every where thou art obey'd.
RECIT. Cupid.
No part of my dominion ſhall be waſte;
To ſpread my ſway, and ſing my praiſe,
Ev'n here I will a people raiſe,
Of kind embracing lovers, and embrac'd.
Cupid waves his wand, upon which the ſcene opens, and diſcovers an extenſive proſpect of ice and ſnow.
Peaſants appear.
CHORUS.
See, ſee, we aſſemble,
Thy revels to hold;
Tho' quiv'ring with cold,
We chatter and tremble.
AIR. Cupid.
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I that have warm'd ye;
In ſpite of cold weather,
I've brought you together;
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have arm'd ye.
CHORUS.
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love that has warm'd us;
In ſpite of cold weather,
He brought us together:
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love that has arm'd us.
Cupid waves his wand, the froſt ſcene vaniſhes, and a ſummer proſpect appears.
A grand dance.
Em.
I cou'd be pleas'd with any one but thee,
Who entertain'd my ſight with ſuch gay ſhows,
As men and women moving here and there;
That courſing one another in their ſteps,
Have made their feet a tune.
Oſm.
What, coying it again!
No more; but make happy.
Em.
From my ſight,
Thou, all thy devils in one, thou dar'ſt not force me.
Oſm.
You teach me well;
I'll give you that excuſe your ſex deſire.
[He ſeizes her and ſhe ſtruggles.
Grim.
[within.]
O help me, maſter, help me!Oſm.
Who's that, my Grimbald! Come and help thou me;
For 'tis thy work t'aſſiſt a raviſher.
Grim.
[within.]
I cannot ſtir; I am ſpell-caught by Philidel,And purs'd within a net,
[37] With a huge heavy weight of holy words
Laid on my head, that keeps me down from riſing.
Oſm.
I'll read'em backwards, and releaſe thy bonds.
Mean time go in:—
[To Emmeline.
Prepare yourſelf, to meet my love,
But if you will not fairly be enjoy'd,
A little honeſt force is well employ'd.
[Exit Oſmond.
Em.
Heav'n be my guard, I have no other friend!
Heav'n, ever preſent to thy ſuppliant's aid,
Protect and pity innocence betray'd.
[Ex. Emmeline and Matilda.
END of the THIRD ACT.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. A grove.
Enter Oſmond ſolus.
NOW I am ſettled in my forceful ſway,
Why then, I'll be luxurious in my love;
Take my full guſt, and, ſetting forms aſide,
I'll bid the ſlave, that fires my blood, obey.
Enter Grimbald, who meets him.
Grim.
Not ſo faſt, maſter, danger threatens thee:
There's a black cloud aſcending from above,
Full of heav'n's venom, burſting o'er thy head.
Oſm.
Malicious fiend, thou ly'ſt: for I am fenc'd
By millions of thy fellows, in my grove:
I bad thee, when I freed thee from the charm,
Run ſcouting thro' the wood, from tree to tree,
And look if all my devils were on duty:
Hadſt thou perform'd thy charge, thou tardy ſprite,
Thou wouldſt have known no danger threaten'd me.
Grim.
When did a devil fail in diligence?
Poor mortal, thou thyſelf art overſeen;
[38] I have been there, and hence I bring this news.
Thy fatal foe, great Arthur, is at hand:
Merlin has ta'en his time, while thou wert abſent,
T' obſerve thy characters, their force, and nature,
And counterwork thy ſpells.
Oſm.
Perdition ſeize on Merlin!
I'll caſt 'em all a-new, and inſtantly,
All of another mould; be thou at hand.
Their compoſition was, before, of horror;
Now they ſhall be of blandiſhment, and love;
Seducing hopes, ſoft pity, tender moans:
Art ſhall meet art: and, when they think to win,
The fools ſhall find their labours to begin.
[Exeunt Oſm. and Grimb.
SCENE II. A wood, with a large oak in the front.
Enter Arthur, and Merlin on the other ſide.
Merl.
Thus far it is permitted me to go;
But all beyond this ſpot is fenc'd with charms;
I may no more, but only with advice.
Arth.
My ſword ſhall do the reſt.
Merl.
Remember well, that all is but illuſion;
Go on; good ſtars attend thee.
Arth.
Doubt me not.
Merl.
Yet in prevention
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel
To watch thy ſteps, and with him leave my wand;
The touch of which no earthy fiend can bear,
In whate'er ſhape transform'd, but muſt lay down
His borrow'd figure; and confeſs the devil.
Once more farewell, and proſper.
[Ex. Merlin.
Arth.
[walking.]
No danger yet, I ſee no walls of fire,No city of the fiends, with forms obſcene,
To grin from far on flaming battlements.
This is indeed the grove I ſhould deſtroy;
But where's the horror? ſure the prophet err'd.
[39] Hark! muſick, and the warbling notes of birds;
[Singing of birds, within.
More wonders yet; yet all delightful too.
The Scene opens and diſcovers a pleaſant river, ſhaded with trees, a golden bridge over it.
A ſilver current to forbid my paſſage,
And yet t'invite me, ſtands a golden bridge:
Perhaps a trap for my unwary feet,
To ſink and whelm me underneath the waves;
With fire or water. Let him wage his war,
Or all the elements at once, I'll on.
[As he is going to the bridge, two Syrens ariſe from the water, and ſing.
DUETTO. Sung by Mrs. Scot, and Miſs Radley.
Two daughters of this aged ſtream are we,
And both our ſea-green locks have comb'd for thee;
Come bathe with us an hour or two,
Come naked in, for we are ſo:
What danger from a naked foe?
Come bathe with us, come bathe, and ſhare
What pleaſures in the floods appear:
We'll beat the waters till they bound,
And circle, round, around, around,
And circle round, around.
Arth.
A lazy pleaſure trickles thro' my veins;
Here could I ſtay, and well be cozen'd here.
But Honour calls; is Honour in ſuch haſte?
Can it not bait at ſuch a pleaſing inn?
No; for the more I look, the more I long:
Farewel, ye fair illuſions, I muſt leave ye,
While I have pow'r to ſay, that I muſt leave ye.
Farewel, with half my ſoul I ſtagger off;
How dear this flying victory has coſt,
When if I ſtay to ſtruggle, I am loſt.
[As he is going forward, nymphs and ſylvans come out from behind the trees.
[40]DUETTO. By Mrs. Wrighten and Mrs. Dorman.
How happy the lover
How eaſy his chain,
How pleaſing his pain,
How ſweet to diſcover
He ſighs not in vain.
For love every creature
Is form'd by his nature;
No joys are above
The pleaſures of love.
Arth.
And what are theſe fantaſtick fairy joys,
To love like mine? Falſe joys, falſe welcomes all.
Be gone, ye ſylvan trippers of the green;
Fly after night, and overtake the moon.
[Singers and Sirens vaniſh.
This goodly tree ſeems queen of all the grove.
The ringlets round her trunk declare her guilty
Of many midnight ſabbaths revell'd here.
Her will I firſt attempt.
[Arthur ſtrikes at the tree, and cuts it; blood ſpouts out of it, a groan follows, then a ſhriek.
Good heav'n, what monſtrous prodigies are theſe!
Blood follows from my blow; the wounded rind
Spouts on my ſword, and ſanguine dyes the plain.
[He ſtrikes again: a voice of Emmeline from behind.
Em.
[from behind.]
Forbear, if thou haſt pity, ah, forbear!Theſe groans proceed not from a ſenſeleſs plant,
No ſpouts of blood run welling from a tree.
Arth.
Speak what thou art; I charge thee ſpeak thy being:
Thou haſt made my curdled blood run back,
My heart heave up, my hair to riſe in briſtles,
And ſcarcely left a voice to aſk thy name.
[Emmel. breaks out of the tree, ſhewing her arm bloody.
Em.
[41]Whom thou haſt hurt, unkind and cruel, ſee;
Look on this blood, 'tis fatal, ſtill, to me,
To bear thy wounds, my heart has felt 'em firſt.
Arth.
'Tis ſhe: amazement roots me to the ground!
Em.
By cruel charms, dragg'd from my peaceful bower,
Fierce Oſmond clos'd me in this bleeding bark;
And bid me ſtand expos'd to the bleak winds,
And winter ſtorms, and heav'ns inclemency,
Bound to the fate of this hell-haunted grove;
So that whatever ſword, or ſounding axe,
Shall violate this plant, muſt pierce my fleſh,
And, when that falls I die.—
Arth.
If this be true,
O never, never to be ended charm,
At leaſt by me! Yet all may be illuſion.
Break up, ye thick'ning fogs, and filmy miſts,
All that bely my ſight, and cheat my ſenſe;
For reaſon ſtill pronounces, 'tis not ſhe,
And thus reſolv'd—
[Lifts up his ſword, as going to ſtrike.
Em.
Do, ſtrike, barbarian, ſtrike;
And ſtrew my mangled limbs, with every ſtroke.
Wound me, and doubly kill me, with unkindneſs,
That, by thy hand I fell.
Arth.
What ſhall I do, ye powers?
Em.
Lay down thy vengeful ſword; 'tis fatal here:
What need of arms, where no defence is made?
A love-ſick virgin, panting with deſire,
No conſcious eye t'intrude on our delights;
For this thou haſt the Siren's ſongs deſpis'd;
For this, thy faithful paſſion I reward;
Haſte then, to take me longing to thy arms.
Arth.
O love! O Merlin! whom ſhould I believe?
Em.
Believe thy ſelf, thy youth, thy love, and me;
They only, they, who pleaſe themſelves, are wiſe:
Diſarm thy hand, that mine may meet it bare.
Arth.
By thy leave, reaſon, here I throw thee off,
[42] Thou load of life: if thou wert made for ſouls,
Then ſouls ſhould have been made without their bodies.
If, falling for the firſt created fair
Was Adam's fault, great grandſire, I forgive thee;
Eden was loſt, as all thy ſons would loſe it.
[Going toward Emmeline, and pulling off his gauntlet.
Enter Philidel running.
Phil.
Hold, poor deluded mortal, hold thy hand;
Which, if thou giv'ſt, is plighted to a fiend.
For proof, behold the virtue of this wand;
Th' infernal paint ſhall vaniſh from her face,
And hell ſhall ſtand reveal'd.
[Strikes Emmeline with a wand, who ſtraight de⯑ſcends: Grimbald appears in her place.
Now ſee to whoſe embraces thou wert falling.
Behold the maiden modeſty of Grimbald!
The groſſeſt, earthieſt, uglieſt fiend in hell.
Arth.
Horror ſeizes me,
To think what headlong ruin I have tempted.
Phil.
Haſte to thy work; a noble ſtroke or two
Ends all the charms, and diſenchants the grove.
I'll hold thy miſtreſs bound.
[Chains Grimbald.
Arth.
Then here's for earneſt;
[Strikes twice or trice, the tree ſinks amidſt thunder and lightning, and the bridge breaks down.
'Tis finiſh'd, and the duſk, that yet remains,
Is but the native horror of the wood.
But I muſt loſe no time; the paſs is free;
Th' unrooſted fiends have quitted this abode;
On yon proud towers, before this day be done,
My glittering banners ſhall be wav'd againſt the ſet⯑ting ſun.
[Exit Arthur.
Phil.
Come on, my ſurly ſlave; come ſtalk along,
And ſtamp a mad-man's pace, and drag thy chain.
Grim.
I'll champ and foam upon't, till the blue venom
[43] Work upwards to thy hands, and looſe their hold.
Phil.
Know'ſt thou this pow'erful wand? 'tis lifted up;
A ſecond ſtroke wou'd ſend thee to the centre,
Benumb'd and dead, as far as ſouls can die.
Grim.
I wou'd thou woud'ſt, to rid me of my ſenſe:
I ſhall be whoop'd thro' hell, at my return
Inglorious from the miſchief I deſign'd.
Phil.
And therefore, ſince thou loath'ſt etherial light,
The morning ſun ſhall beat on thy black brows;
The breath thou draw'ſt ſhall be of upper air,
Hoſtile to thee, and to thy earthy make;
So light, ſo thin, that thou ſhall ſtarve for want
Of thy groſs food, till gaſping thou ſhalt lie,
And blow it back, all ſooty, to the ſky.
Victory! victory! Vice is in chains,
Victory! victory! Virtue reigns.
CHORUS.
Victory! victory!
END of the FOURTH ACT.
ACT V.
SCENE I. A camp.
Enter Oſmond, as aſfrighted.
Oſm.
GRIMBALD made priſoner, and my grove deſtroy'd!
Now what can ſave me—Hark, the drums and trum⯑pets!
[Drums and trumpets within.
Arthur is marching onward to the fort.
I have but one recourſe, and that's to Oſwald;
[44] But will he fight for me, whom I have injur'd?
No, not for me, but for himſelf he muſt;
I'll urge him with the laſt neceſſity:
Better give up my miſtreſs than my life.
His force is much unequal to his rival;
True;—but I'll help him with my utmoſt art,
And try t'unravel fate.
[Exit Oſmond.
Enter Artbur, Conon, Aurelius, Albanact, and ſoldiers.
Con.
Now there remains but this one labour more;
And if we have the hearts of true-born Britons,
The forcing of that caſtle crowns the day.
Aur.
The works are weak, the garriſon but thin,
Diſpirited with frequent overthrows,
Already wavering on their ill-mann'd walls.
Alb.
They ſhift their places oft, and ſkulk from war,
Sure ſigns of pale deſpair and eaſy rout;
It ſhews they place their confidence in magick,
And when their devils fail, their hearts are dead.
Arth.
Then, where you ſee 'em cluſt'ring moſt, in motion,
And ſtaggering in their ranks, there preſs 'em home;
For that's a coward's heap—How's this, a ſally?
Enter Oſwald, Guillamar, and ſoldiers on the other ſide.
Beyond my hopes to meet 'em on the ſquare.
Oſw.
Brave Britons, hold; and thou their famous chief,
[Advancing.
Attend what Saxon Oſwald will propoſe.
He owns your victory; but whether owing
To valour, or to fortune, that he doubts.
If Arthur dares aſcribe it to the firſt,
And ſingled from a croud, will tempt a conqueſt,
This Oſwald offers; let our troops retire,
And hand to hand let us decide our ſtrife:
This if refus'd, bear witneſs earth and heav'n,
Thou ſteal'ſt a crown and miſtreſs undeſerv'd.
Arth.
I'll not uſurp thy title of a robber,
[45] Nor will upbraid thee, that before I proffer'd
This ſingle combat, which thou did'ſt avoid;
So glad I am, on any terms to meet thee,
And not diſcourage thy repenting ſhame.
As once Aeneas, my fam'd anceſtor,
Betwixt the Trojan and Rutilian bands,
Fought for a crown, and bright Lavinia's bed;
So will I meet thee, hand to hand oppos'd:
My auguring mind aſſures the ſame ſucceſs.
[To his men.]
Hence out of view; if I am ſlain or yield,Renounce me, Britons, for a recreant knight;
And let the Saxon peacefully enjoy
His former footing in our famous iſle.
To ratify theſe terms, I ſwear—
Oſw.
You need not;
Your honour is of force, without your oath.
I only add, that if I fall, or yield,
Your's be the crown, and Emmeline.
Arth.
That's two crowns.
No more; we keep the looking heav'n and ſun
Too long in expectation of our arms.
[Both armies go off the ſtage.
Arthur and Oſwald fight. Oſwald retreats. Enter Oſmond from among the trees, and with his wand ſtrikes Arthur's ſword out of his hand, and exit. Oſwald purſues Arthur. Merlin enters, and gives Arthur his ſword, and exit. They cloſe, and Arthur in the fall diſarms Oſwald.
Arth.
Confeſs thyſelf o'ercome, and aſk thy life.
Oſw.
'Tis not worth aſking, when 'tis in thy power.
Arth.
Then take it as my gift.
Oſw.
A wretched gift,
With loſs of empire, liberty, and love.
[A concert of trumpets within, proclaiming Arthur's victory; while they ſound, Arthur and Oſwald ſeem to confer.
[46] 'Tis too much bounty to a vanquiſh'd foe;
Yet not enough to make me fortunate.
Arth.
Thy life, thy liberty, thy honour ſafe,
Lead back thy Saxons to their ancient El [...]
I wou'd reſtore thee fruitful Kent, the gi [...]
Of Vortigern for Hengiſt's ill-bought aid,
But that my Britons brook no foreign power,
To lord it in a land, ſacred to freedom,
And of its rights tenacious to the laſt.
Oſw.
Nor more than thou haſt offer'd wou'd I take;
I would refuſe all Britain held in homage;
And own no other maſters but the gods.
Enter on one ſide, Merlin, Emmeline, and Matilda, Co⯑non, Aurelius, Albanact, with Britiſh ſoldiers, bearing King Arthur's ſtandard diſplayed. On the other ſide, Guillamar, and Oſmond, with Saxon ſoldiers, drag⯑ging their colours on the ground.
[Arth. going to Emme. and embracing her.
Arth.
At length, at length, I have thee in my arms;
Tho' our malevolent ſtars have ſtruggled hard,
And held us long aſunder.
Em.
We are ſo fitted for each other's hearts,
That heav'n had erred, in making of a third,
To get betwixt, and intercept our loves.
Oſw.
Were there but this, this only ſight to ſee,
The price of Britain ſhould not buy my ſtay.
Mer.
Take hence that monſter of ingratitude,
Him who betray'd his maſter, bear him hence;
And in that loathſome dungeon plunge him deep,
Where he plung'd noble Oſwald.
Oſm.
That indeed is fitteſt for me,
For there I ſhall be near my kindred fiends,
And ſpare my Grimbald's pains to bear me to 'em.
[Is carried off.
Mer.
[to Arth.]
For this day's palm, and for thy former acts,Thy Britain freed, and foreign force expell'd,
[47] Thou, Arthur, haſt acquir'd a future fame,
And of three Chriſtian worthies, art the firſt:
And now at once to treat thy ſight and ſoul,
[...]ld what rolling ages ſhall produce:
The wealth, the loves, the glories, of our iſle,
Which yet, like golden ore, unripe in beds,
Expect the warm indulgency of heav'n
To call 'em forth to light—
Nor thou, brave Saxon prince,
[to Oſwald]
diſdain our triumph:Britons and Saxons ſhall be once one people;
One common tongue, one common faith, ſhall bind
Our jarring bands, in a perpetual peace.
Merlin waves his wand; the ſcene changes, and diſ⯑covers the Britiſh ocean in a ſtorm. Aelous in a cloud above.
Enter Neptune.
Ye bluſt'ring brethren of the ſkies,
Whoſe breath has ruffl'd all the watr'y plain,
Retire and let Britannia riſe,
In triumph o'er the main.
Serene and calm, and void of fear,
The queen of iſlands muſt appear:
[Aeolus aſcends, and the four winds fly off; Britannia riſes from the ſea.
Enter Venus.
RECITATIVE.
Faireſt iſle, all iſles excelling,
Seat of pleaſures and of loves;
Venus here will chuſe her dwelling,
And forſake her Cyprian groves.
AIR.
Cupid, from his fav'rite nation,
Care and Envy will remove;
Jealouſy, that poiſons paſſion,
And Deſpair that dies for love.
Gentle murmurs, ſweet complaining,
Sighs that blow the fire of love;
Soft repulſes, kind diſdaining,
Shall be all the pains you prove.
Every ſwain ſhall pay his duty,
Grateful every nymph ſhall prove;
And as theſe excel in beauty,
Thoſe ſhall be renown'd for love.
Mer.
Theſe who next enter are our valiant Britons,
Who ſhall by ſea and land repel our foes,
[A march, while the Britiſh ſailors and grena⯑diers come to the front of the ſtage.
Now look above, and in heav'n's high abyfs,
Behold what fame attends thoſe future heroes.
Honour who leads them to that ſteepy height,
In her immortal ſong, ſhall tell the reſt.
[The order of the Garter deſcends.
SONG, by Mr. Vernon.
I.
St. George, the patron of our iſle,
A ſoldier, and a ſaint,
On that auſpicious order ſmile,
Which love and arms will plant.
II.
Our natives not alone appear
To court this martial prize;
But foreign kings adopted here,
Their crowns at home deſpiſe.
[49]III.
Our ſovereign high, in awful ſtate,
His honours ſhall beſtow;
And ſee his ſcepter'd ſubjects wait
On his commands below.
[A dance of Britiſh ſailors.]
Arth.
[to Merl.]
Wiſely you have, whate'er will pleaſe, reveal'd;What would diſpleaſe, as wiſely have conceal'd:
Triumphs of war and peace, at full ye ſhow,
But ſwiftly turn the pages of our woe.
Reſt we contented with our preſent ſtate;
'Tis anxious to enquire of future fate.
That race of heroes is enough alone
For all unſeen diſaſters to atone.
Let us make haſte betimes to reap our ſhare,
And not reſign them all the praiſe of war.
But ſet th' example; and their ſouls inflame,
To copy out their great forefathers fame.
FINIS.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3889 King Arthur or the British worthy A masque By Mr Dryden As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane The music by Purcell and Dr Arne. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61C5-8