ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter Osmond, as affrighted.

Osm. Grimbald made prisoner, and my grove destroyed!

Now what can save me——Hark, the drums and trumpets!

[Drums and Trumpets within.

Arthur is marching onward to the fort.

I have but one recourse, and that's to Oswald;—

But will he fight for me, whom I have injured?

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 to unravel fate. [Exit.

Enter Arthur, 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 the castle crowns the day.

Aur. The works are weak, the garrison but thin,

Dispirited with frequent overthrows,

Already wavering on their ill-manned walls.

Alb. They shift their places oft, and sculk from war;

Sure signs of pale despair, and easy rout:

It shews they place their confidence in magic,

And, when their devils fail, their hearts are dead.

Arth. Then, where you see them clustering most in motion,

And staggering in their ranks, there press them home;

For that's a coward heap.—How's this, a sally?

Enter Oswald, Guillamar, and Soldiers on the other side.

Beyond my hopes, to meet them 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 crowd, will tempt a conquest,

This Oswald offers; let our troops retire,

And hand to hand let us decide our strife:

This if refused, bear witness, earth and heaven,

Thou steal'st a crown and mistress undeserved.

Arth. I'll not usurp thy title of a robber,

Nor will upbraid thee, that before I proffered

This single combat, which thou didst avoid;

So glad I am, on any terms to meet thee,

And not discourage thy repenting shame.

As once Æneas, my famed ancestor,

Betwixt the Trojan and Rutilian bands,

Fought for a crown, and bright Lavinia's bed,

So will I meet thee, hand to hand opposed:

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 on 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,

Yours be the crown, and Emmeline.

Arth. That's two crowns.

No more; we keep the looking heavens and sun

Too long in expectation of our arms. [Both Armies go off the Stage.

[They fight with Spunges in their Hands, dipt in blood: after some equal passes and closing, they appear both wounded; Arthur stumbles among the Trees, Oswald falls over him; they both rise; Arthur wounds him again, then 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.[22]

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.

'Tis too much bounty to a vanquished foe;

Yet not enough to make me fortunate.

Arth. Thy life, thy liberty, thy honour safe,

Lead back thy Saxons to their ancient Elbe:

I would restore thee fruitful Kent, the gift

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 offered would 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. Conon, Aurelius, Albanact, with British Soldiers, bearing King Arthur's Standard displayed. On the other side, Guillamar, and Osmond, with Saxon Soldiers, dragging their Colours on the Ground.

[Arth. going to Emm. and embracing her.

Arth. At length, at length, I have thee in my arms;

Though our malevolent stars have struggled hard,

And held us long asunder.

Em. We are so fitted for each other's hearts,

That heaven 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 betrayed his master, bear him hence;

And in that loathsome dungeon plunge him deep,

Where he plunged noble Oswald.

Osm. That indeed is fittest for me;

For there I shall be near my kindred friends,

And spare my Grimbald's pains to bear me to them. [Is carried off.

Mer. [To Arth.] For this day's palm, and for thy former acts,

Thy Britain freed, and foreign force expelled,

Thou, Arthur, hast acquired a future fame,

And, of three Christian worthies, art the first:[23]

And now, at once to treat thy sight and soul,

Behold 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 heaven

To call them forth to light.—

[To Osm.] Nor thou, brave Saxon prince, disdain our triumphs;

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 discovers the British Ocean in a Storm. Æolus in a Cloud above: Four Winds hanging, &c.

Æolus singing.

Ye blustering brethren of the skies,

Whose breath has ruffled all the watry 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:

Serene and calm, as when the spring

The new-created world began,

And birds on boughs did softly sing

Their peaceful homage paid to man;

While Eurus did his blasts forbear,

In favour of the tender year.

Retreat, rude winds, retreat

To hollow rocks, your stormy seat;

There swell your lungs, and vainly, vainly threat.

Æolus ascends, and the four Winds fly off. The Scene opens, and discovers a calm Sea, to the end of the House. An Island arises, to a soft Tune; Britannia, seated in the Island, with Fishermen at her Feet, &c. The Tune changes, the Fishermen come ashore, and dance a while; after which, Pan and a Nereid come on the Stage, and sing.

Pan and Nereid sing.

Round thy coasts, fair nymph of Britain,

For thy guard our waters flow:

Proteus all his herds admitting,

On thy greens to graze below.

Foreign lands thy fishes tasting,

Learn from thee luxurious fasting.

Song of three parts.

For folded flocks, on fruitful plains,

The shepherd's and the farmer's gains,

Fair Britain all the world outvies;

And Pan, as in Arcadia, reigns,

Where pleasure mixt with profit lies.

Though Jason's fleece was famed of old,

The British wool is growing gold;

No mines can more of wealth supply;

It keeps the peasant from the cold,

And takes for kings the Tyrian dye.

[The last Stanza sung over again betwixt Pan and the Nereid. After which, the former dance is varied, and goes on.

Enter Comus, with three Peasants, who sing the following Song in Parts.

Com. Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reaped;

Your barns will be full, and your hovels heaped;

Come, my boys, come;

And merrily roar out harvest home;

Harvest home,

Harvest home;

And merrily roar out harvest home.

Chor. Come, my boys, come, &c.

1 Man. We ha' cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again.

For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?

One in ten,

One in ten;

For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?

2 Man. For prating so long like a book-learned sot,

Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot, Burn to pot,

Burn to pot;

Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot.

Chor. Burn to pot, &c.

3 Man. We'll toss off our ale till we cannot stand,

And hoigh for the honour of old England:

Old England,

Old England;

And hoigh for the honour of old England.

Chor. Old England, &c.

[The Dance varied into a round Country-dance.

Enter Venus.

Venus. Fairest isle, all isles excelling,

Seat of pleasures and of loves;

Venus here will chuse her dwelling,

And forsake her Cyprian groves.

Cupid from his favourite 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 renowned for love.

SONG BY MR HOWE.

She. You say, 'Tis love creates the pain,

Of which so sadly you complain;

And yet would fain engage my heart

In that uneasy cruel part;

But how, alas! think you, that I

Can bear the wound of which you die?

He. 'Tis not my passion makes my care,

But your indifference gives despair;

The lusty sun begets no spring,

Till gentle showers assistance bring;

So love, that scorches and destroys,

Till kindness aids, can cause no joys.

She. Love has a thousand ways to please,

But more to rob us of our ease;

For wakeful nights, and careful days,

Some hours of pleasure he repays;

But absence soon, or jealous fears,

O'erflow the joys with flood of tears.

He. By vain and senseless forms betrayed,

Harmless love's the offender made;

While we no other pains endure,

Than those, that we ourselves procure;

But one soft moment makes amends

For all the torment that attends.

Chorus of both.

Let us love, let us love, and to happiness haste.

Age and wisdom come too fast;

Youth for loving was designed.

He alone. I'll be constant, you'll be kind.

She alone. You'll be constant, I'll be kind.

Both. Heaven can give no greater blessing

Than faithful love, and kind possessing.

[After the Dialogue, a Warlike Concert: The Scene opens above, and discovers the Order of the Garter.

Enter Honour, attended by Heroes.

Merl. These, who last entered, are our valiant Britons,

Who shall by sea and land repel our foes.

Now, look above, and in heaven's high abyss,

Behold what fame attends those future heroes.

Honour, who leads them to that steepy height,

In her immortal song shall tell the rest.

Honour sings.

St George, the patron of our isle,

A soldier, and a saint,

On that auspicious order smile,

Which love and arms will plant.

Our natives not alone appear

To court this martial prize;

But foreign kings, adopted here,

Their crowns at home despise.

Our sovereign high, in awful state,

His honours shall bestow;

And see his sceptered subjects wait

On his commands below.

[A full Chorus of the whole Song: After which, the grand Dance.

Arth. [To Merl.] Wisely you have, whate'er will please, revealed:

What would displease, as wisely have concealed:

Triumphs of war and peace, at full ye show,

But swiftly turn the pages of our woe.

Rest we contented with our present state;

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 the example, and their souls inflame,

To copy out their great forefathers' name. [Exeunt omnes.