ACT II. SCENE I.
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 clothed with flesh, and warmed with vital blood,
But naked now, or shirted but with air!
Merlin, with Spirits, descends to Philidel, in a Chariot drawn by Dragons.
Mer. What art thou, spirit? of what name, or order?
For I have viewed 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 tenderest of my kind,
The last seduced, and least deformed, of hell;
Half-white, and shuffled in the crowd, I fell,
Desirous to repent, and loth to sin;
Awkward in mischief, piteous of mankind.
My name is Philidel, my lot in air,
Where, next beneath the moon, and nearest heaven,
I soar, and have a glimpse to be received,
For which the swarthy dæmons envy me.
Mer. Thy business here?
Phil. To shun the Saxon wizard's dire commands,
Osmond, the awfullest name, next thine, below.
'Cause I refused to hurl a noisome fog
On christened heads, the hue and cry of hell
Is raised against me, for a fugitive sprite.
Mer. Osmond shall know, a greater power protects thee.
But follow thou the whispers of thy soul,
That draw thee nearer heaven;
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, 'tis my hopeful devil. Now mark me, Philidel;
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 Grimbald is at hand,
Osmond's fierce fiend; I snuff his earthy scent.
The conquering Britons he misleads to rivers,
Or dreadful downfals 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 ponderous bulk oppress
Thy tender flitting air, I'll leave my band
Of spirits, with united strength to aid thee,
And force with force repel.
[Exit Merlin in his Chariot. Merlin's Spirits stay with Philidel.
Enter Grimbald in the habit of a Shepherd, followed by King Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, Albanact, and Soldiers, who wander at a distance in the Scenes.
Grim. Here, this way, Britons; follow Oswald's flight.
This evening, as I whistled out my dog,
To drive my straggling flock, and pitched my fold,
I saw him, dropping sweat, o'er-laboured, 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.
Phil. } Hither this way, this way bend,
sings. } Trust not that malicious fiend;
Those are false deluding lights,
Wafted far and near by sprites.
Trust them not, for they'll deceive ye,
And in bogs and marshes leave ye.
Chor. of Phil. Spir. Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. Spir. This way, this way bend.
Phil. } If you step, no danger thinking,
sings. } Down you fall, a furlong sinking:
'Tis a fiend, who has annoyed ye;
Name but heaven, and he'll avoid ye.
Chor. of Phil. Spir. Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. Spir. 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.
Con. Some wicked phantom, foe to human kind,
Misguides our steps.
Alba. I'll follow him no further.
Grimb. By hell, she sings them back, in my despite.
I had a voice in heaven, ere sulphurous steams
Had damped it to a hoarseness; but I'll try.
He sings. Let not a moon-born elf mislead ye
From your prey, and from your glory.
Too far, alas! he has betrayed ye:
Follow the flames, that wave before ye;
Sometimes seven, and sometimes one;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.
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.
Far he cannot hence be gone;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.
Aur. 'Tis true he says; the footsteps yet are fresh
Upon the sod, no falling dew-drops have
Disturbed the print. [All are going to follow Grimbald.
Philidel sings. Hither this way.
Chor. of Phil. Spir. Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. Spir. 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. Curse on her voice! I must my prey forego;—
Thou, Philidel, shalt answer this below. [Grimbald sinks with a Flash.
Arth. At last the cheat is plain;
The cloven-footed fiend is vanished 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; 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.
Ver. 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 II.—A Pavilion.
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. I have heard something, how two bodies meet;
But how souls join, 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. Heaven 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. They say, 'tis black.
Em. Why, then, since gold is hard, and yet is precious,
His face must all be made of soft, black gold.
Mat. But, madam,——
Em. No more; I have learned enough for once.
Mat. Here are a crew of Kentish lads and lasses
Would entertain ye, till your lord's return,
With songs and dances, to divert your cares.
Em. O bring them in;
For, though I cannot see the songs, I love them;
And love, they tell me, is a dance of hearts.
Enter Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
1 Shepherd sings.
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.
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.
[Here the Men offer their Flutes to the Women, which they refuse.
2 Shepherdess.
Shepherd, shepherd, leave decoying,
Pipes are sweet a summer's day;
But a little after toying,
Women have the shot to pay.
Here are marriage-vows for signing,
Set their marks that cannot write;
After that, without repining,
Play, and welcome, day and night.
[Here the Women give the Men Contracts, which they accept.
Chor. } Come, shepherds, lead up a lively measure;
of all. } The cares of wedlock are cares of pleasure:
But whether marriage bring joy or sorrow,
Make sure of this day, and hang to-morrow.
[The Dance after the Song, and Exeunt Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Enter, on the other side of the Stage, Oswald and Guillamar.
Osw. The night has wildered us; and we are fallen
Among their foremost 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 returned
To bless your Emmeline?
Osw. [To Guil.] I know that face:
'Tis the ungrateful fair, who, scorning mine,
Accepts my rival's love.—Heaven, thou art bounteous,
Thou owest 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 betrayed! 'tis Oswald's voice.
Em. Let them not see our voices, and then they cannot find us.
Osw. Passions in men oppressed 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 Mat. Help, help! a rape, a rape!
Osw. By heaven, ye injure me; though force is used,
Your honour shall be sacred.
Em. Help, help! Oh, Britons, help!
Osw. Your Britons cannot help you.
This arm through all their troops shall force my way,
Yet neither quit my honour, nor my prey.
[Exeunt, the Women still crying. An Alarm within: Some Soldiers running over the Stage, "Follow, follow, follow."
Enter Albanact, Captain of the Guards, with Soldiers.
Alb. Which way went the alarm?
1 Sol. Here, towards the castle.
Alb. Pox o'this victory, the whole camp's debauched;
All drunk, or whoring.—This way; follow, follow.
[Exeunt. The Alarm renews: Clashing of Swords within for a while.
Re-enter Albanact, Officer, and Soldiers.
Offi. 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.
Offi. 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 on the other side.
Offi. But hark! already
Our trumpet makes reply; and see both present.
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 changed.
Osw. And I am sorry that those times are changed,
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 wronged me much.
Osw. Oh you would tell me,
I called more Saxons in, to enlarge my bounds.
If those be wrongs, the war has well redressed ye.
Arth. 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 wronged 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 forced 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 locked;
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 untouched.
Arth. Was honour ever safe in brutal hands?
So safe are lambs within the lion's paw;
Ungriped and played with, till fierce hunger calls,
Then nature shews itself; the close-hid nails
Are stretched, and opened, 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 forego a victor's right?
Arth. Say rather, of an impious ravisher.
That castle, were it walled 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, though not to have her mine,
I would give up a hundred years of life,
And bid fate cut to-morrow.
Arth. It soon will come, and thou repent too late;
Which to prevent, I'll bribe thee to be honest.
Thy noble head, accustomed 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 though you spread my sway from Thames to Tyber:
Such gifts might bribe a king, but not a lover.
Arth. Then pr'ythee give me back my kingly word,
Passed for thy safe return; and let this hour,
In single combat, hand to 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 named 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 Oswald's magic cannot fail)
A long to-morrow, ere your arms prevail.
Or, if I fall, make room, ye blessed above,
For one who was undone, and died for love. [Exit Oswald and his Party.
Arth. There may be one black minute ere to-morrow:
For who can tell, what power, and lust, and charms,
May do this night?—To arms, with speed, to arms. [Exeunt.