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.
Garrick, David, 1717-1779.
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SCENE II.
SCENE II. A landskip.
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, Page 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;
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'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
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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.
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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.
