ACT II.

SCENE. I.—ROME.

EnterAureliusandUter,Constantius’two Brothers.

Uter.E’en now in Rome have we for seven long yearsMade this our wearisome and constant sojourn:I would we were again in Britain.Aur.Even so, good Uter, stands it with myself;Nay, an thou yearn’st to see thy native land,How is it, then, with me, that there have leftThe jewel of my soul, my dearest Flavia!Uter.Nay, good my brother, patience yet a little:All will be well, Flavia doth love you still.Aur.I cannot, will not bear this absence longer.

Uter.E’en now in Rome have we for seven long yearsMade this our wearisome and constant sojourn:I would we were again in Britain.

Uter.E’en now in Rome have we for seven long years

Made this our wearisome and constant sojourn:

I would we were again in Britain.

Aur.Even so, good Uter, stands it with myself;Nay, an thou yearn’st to see thy native land,How is it, then, with me, that there have leftThe jewel of my soul, my dearest Flavia!

Aur.Even so, good Uter, stands it with myself;

Nay, an thou yearn’st to see thy native land,

How is it, then, with me, that there have left

The jewel of my soul, my dearest Flavia!

Uter.Nay, good my brother, patience yet a little:All will be well, Flavia doth love you still.

Uter.Nay, good my brother, patience yet a little:

All will be well, Flavia doth love you still.

Aur.I cannot, will not bear this absence longer.

Enter Servant.

Serv.A messenger, my lord, attends without,On business of great import.Aur.Whence comes he?Serv.From Britain.Aur.From Britain, say’st thou? then admit him straight.

Serv.A messenger, my lord, attends without,On business of great import.

Serv.A messenger, my lord, attends without,

On business of great import.

Aur.Whence comes he?

Serv.From Britain.

Aur.From Britain, say’st thou? then admit him straight.

[Exit Serv.

Enter Messenger.

Mes.My gracious lord, are you the eldest sonOf our good King Constantius?Aur.Even so.Mes.This packet, then, I fear, will news containThe most afflicting.

Mes.My gracious lord, are you the eldest sonOf our good King Constantius?

Mes.My gracious lord, are you the eldest son

Of our good King Constantius?

Aur.Even so.

Mes.This packet, then, I fear, will news containThe most afflicting.

Mes.This packet, then, I fear, will news contain

The most afflicting.

Aureliusreads.

These letters we in haste despatch, to tell youOf your dear father’s death, and to forewarn youOf your own danger:—murder most foul hath ta’en him.Vortigern on the Scots hath laid the murder;Yet, under this pretence, much lies conceal’d.Till you arrive, he is to rule deputed:But as you prize your lives return not yet.Aur.Oh! horror! horror! my dear father murder’d!Uter.By whom? speak, Messenger, where, when, and how?Mes.The plot, good princes, hath been deeply laid.Aur.This is, indeed, most foul! say on, my friend;Speak quickly, I entreat thee!Mes.Then, thus it is—Vortigern hath done the deed;His love of splendour, pomp, and sovereignty,And his great int’rest in the people’s minds,All, all did prompt him to this hellish act.Aur.Uter,—oh, heavens! the father of my Flavia!It is impossible! It cannot be!Uter.Oh! this, indeed, is damned treachery.My dear Aurelius, let not stupor choakThe worthy feeling of a just revenge.Courage, Aurelius! courage, my dear brother!Aur.Speak on, speak on, and end thy sad discourse!Mes.Thy friends in Britain long suspected this,And to each port despatch’d their trusty spies,To learn what vessels there for Rome were bound.Haply that which hither hath convey’d me,Was to have brought your executioners.Aur.Oh! would it had been so. Uter support me!Uter.Let us retire awhile, my gentle brother;Hereafter, we will send and questionthee,Touching thy tidings, and their direful cause.

These letters we in haste despatch, to tell you

Of your dear father’s death, and to forewarn you

Of your own danger:—murder most foul hath ta’en him.

Vortigern on the Scots hath laid the murder;

Yet, under this pretence, much lies conceal’d.

Till you arrive, he is to rule deputed:

But as you prize your lives return not yet.

Aur.Oh! horror! horror! my dear father murder’d!

Uter.By whom? speak, Messenger, where, when, and how?

Mes.The plot, good princes, hath been deeply laid.

Aur.This is, indeed, most foul! say on, my friend;Speak quickly, I entreat thee!

Aur.This is, indeed, most foul! say on, my friend;

Speak quickly, I entreat thee!

Mes.Then, thus it is—Vortigern hath done the deed;His love of splendour, pomp, and sovereignty,And his great int’rest in the people’s minds,All, all did prompt him to this hellish act.

Mes.Then, thus it is—Vortigern hath done the deed;

His love of splendour, pomp, and sovereignty,

And his great int’rest in the people’s minds,

All, all did prompt him to this hellish act.

Aur.Uter,—oh, heavens! the father of my Flavia!It is impossible! It cannot be!

Aur.Uter,—oh, heavens! the father of my Flavia!

It is impossible! It cannot be!

Uter.Oh! this, indeed, is damned treachery.My dear Aurelius, let not stupor choakThe worthy feeling of a just revenge.Courage, Aurelius! courage, my dear brother!

Uter.Oh! this, indeed, is damned treachery.

My dear Aurelius, let not stupor choak

The worthy feeling of a just revenge.

Courage, Aurelius! courage, my dear brother!

Aur.Speak on, speak on, and end thy sad discourse!

Mes.Thy friends in Britain long suspected this,And to each port despatch’d their trusty spies,To learn what vessels there for Rome were bound.Haply that which hither hath convey’d me,Was to have brought your executioners.

Mes.Thy friends in Britain long suspected this,

And to each port despatch’d their trusty spies,

To learn what vessels there for Rome were bound.

Haply that which hither hath convey’d me,

Was to have brought your executioners.

Aur.Oh! would it had been so. Uter support me!

Uter.Let us retire awhile, my gentle brother;Hereafter, we will send and questionthee,Touching thy tidings, and their direful cause.

Uter.Let us retire awhile, my gentle brother;

Hereafter, we will send and questionthee,

Touching thy tidings, and their direful cause.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—ROME.

EnterAurelius,Uter,and Messenger.

Aur.Our friends in England, then, have thought it fitting,That, on receipt of these, thy woful letters,We should, with speed, to Scotland hie us?Mes.E’en so did they instruct for weighty reasons.“Know, Vortigern did alway hate the Scots;“And ofttimes hath, during thy father’s reign,“Fram’d laws, most burthensome unto that people.“But the keen tooth of hatred and revenge,“With double fury since hath shewn itself;“For every noble Scot then found in London,“Did suffer ’neath the tiger’s ’vengeful fangs,“And this, to direst rage, hath stirr’d their blood.”Your story told, will raise you aid of thousands.Three years of plenty have, among the Britons,Sown seeds of luxury and baneful riot;Therefore, they’re unprepar’d, nor think of war.Uter.Are vessels ready to convey us thither?Mes.Yes, my good lord.Aur.Come, brother, let’s away then, with all speed.—But wer’t not better that we change these habits?Mes.No, no! your Roman vestments will disguise you;And may, in Scotland, greatly aid your cause.Aur.Then be it so. Farewell to thee, O, Rome!I ne’er did think that, when thus quitting thee,My brimful heart would have ran o’er with sorrow.

Aur.Our friends in England, then, have thought it fitting,That, on receipt of these, thy woful letters,We should, with speed, to Scotland hie us?

Aur.Our friends in England, then, have thought it fitting,

That, on receipt of these, thy woful letters,

We should, with speed, to Scotland hie us?

Mes.E’en so did they instruct for weighty reasons.“Know, Vortigern did alway hate the Scots;“And ofttimes hath, during thy father’s reign,“Fram’d laws, most burthensome unto that people.“But the keen tooth of hatred and revenge,“With double fury since hath shewn itself;“For every noble Scot then found in London,“Did suffer ’neath the tiger’s ’vengeful fangs,“And this, to direst rage, hath stirr’d their blood.”Your story told, will raise you aid of thousands.Three years of plenty have, among the Britons,Sown seeds of luxury and baneful riot;Therefore, they’re unprepar’d, nor think of war.

Mes.E’en so did they instruct for weighty reasons.

“Know, Vortigern did alway hate the Scots;

“And ofttimes hath, during thy father’s reign,

“Fram’d laws, most burthensome unto that people.

“But the keen tooth of hatred and revenge,

“With double fury since hath shewn itself;

“For every noble Scot then found in London,

“Did suffer ’neath the tiger’s ’vengeful fangs,

“And this, to direst rage, hath stirr’d their blood.”

Your story told, will raise you aid of thousands.

Three years of plenty have, among the Britons,

Sown seeds of luxury and baneful riot;

Therefore, they’re unprepar’d, nor think of war.

Uter.Are vessels ready to convey us thither?

Mes.Yes, my good lord.

Aur.Come, brother, let’s away then, with all speed.—But wer’t not better that we change these habits?

Aur.Come, brother, let’s away then, with all speed.—

But wer’t not better that we change these habits?

Mes.No, no! your Roman vestments will disguise you;And may, in Scotland, greatly aid your cause.

Mes.No, no! your Roman vestments will disguise you;

And may, in Scotland, greatly aid your cause.

Aur.Then be it so. Farewell to thee, O, Rome!I ne’er did think that, when thus quitting thee,My brimful heart would have ran o’er with sorrow.

Aur.Then be it so. Farewell to thee, O, Rome!

I ne’er did think that, when thus quitting thee,

My brimful heart would have ran o’er with sorrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—A HALL.

DiscoversVortigern,Edmunda,Wortimer,&c. at supper.

Vor.Seek, Wortimer, thy brother and thy sister:Tell them it suits but ill their present years,To tarry thus, when summon’d to our presence.Wort.My gracious father, I obey.Edm.O! dearest husband, calm thy ruffled soul,They mean not to offend your grace; perchance,They know not of thy wish for their attendance.Vor.Peace, then; and with thy words, whet not, I pray,That wrath, which kindles sore within my breast!Again, dost hear me, bid thy tongue be silent,’Twere better else, thou didst retire.Edm.I go, and though a vulture gnaw my heart,I’d bear it all with meekness and with patience,Rather than this my voice should e’er offend thee.

Vor.Seek, Wortimer, thy brother and thy sister:Tell them it suits but ill their present years,To tarry thus, when summon’d to our presence.

Vor.Seek, Wortimer, thy brother and thy sister:

Tell them it suits but ill their present years,

To tarry thus, when summon’d to our presence.

Wort.My gracious father, I obey.

Edm.O! dearest husband, calm thy ruffled soul,They mean not to offend your grace; perchance,They know not of thy wish for their attendance.

Edm.O! dearest husband, calm thy ruffled soul,

They mean not to offend your grace; perchance,

They know not of thy wish for their attendance.

Vor.Peace, then; and with thy words, whet not, I pray,That wrath, which kindles sore within my breast!Again, dost hear me, bid thy tongue be silent,’Twere better else, thou didst retire.

Vor.Peace, then; and with thy words, whet not, I pray,

That wrath, which kindles sore within my breast!

Again, dost hear me, bid thy tongue be silent,

’Twere better else, thou didst retire.

Edm.I go, and though a vulture gnaw my heart,I’d bear it all with meekness and with patience,Rather than this my voice should e’er offend thee.

Edm.I go, and though a vulture gnaw my heart,

I’d bear it all with meekness and with patience,

Rather than this my voice should e’er offend thee.

[Exit.

Wort.My gracious sir, I’ve search’d the chambers through,And call’d aloud, but answer had I none;Save mine own words, return’d upon mine ear,In airy sound.Vor.What! scorn’d, and thus defied! I will not bear it.Send for my prating wife, and should I findThat she, in anywise, did aid their flight,Let her beware of my revenge.—What, ho!

Wort.My gracious sir, I’ve search’d the chambers through,And call’d aloud, but answer had I none;Save mine own words, return’d upon mine ear,In airy sound.

Wort.My gracious sir, I’ve search’d the chambers through,

And call’d aloud, but answer had I none;

Save mine own words, return’d upon mine ear,

In airy sound.

Vor.What! scorn’d, and thus defied! I will not bear it.Send for my prating wife, and should I findThat she, in anywise, did aid their flight,Let her beware of my revenge.—What, ho!

Vor.What! scorn’d, and thus defied! I will not bear it.

Send for my prating wife, and should I find

That she, in anywise, did aid their flight,

Let her beware of my revenge.—What, ho!

Enter Servant.

Quick to my wife, and say I’d speak with her.As yet, from those dull sluggards sent to Rome,No tidings have I heard. But here she comes.

Quick to my wife, and say I’d speak with her.

As yet, from those dull sluggards sent to Rome,

No tidings have I heard. But here she comes.

EnterEdmunda.

Edm.What is your pleasure, sir?Vor.Where are my recreant son and daughter gone:Nay, think not with those eye-drops to deceive me;Tell me, I say,—thou know’st full well their flight!Edm.If in these veins doth run the blood of life,Or there be truth on earth, I know not of them.Vor.Deceive me not; I say thou speak’st most false.I know the quality of women’s eyes,That, in a breath, can weep, can laugh, or frown.Say not these waters flow for loss o’ them;I know thee well, thou hast with both conspir’d;’Twere better thou mak’st known their hiding place.Edm.O! sir, these tears do stop my pow’r o’ speech,Which would again vouch that I utter’d.Vor.It is most false: but look to’t, and dost hear me,—Come not athwart me and my purposes,Lest thou shouldst add to that fierce hate I bear thee.

Edm.What is your pleasure, sir?

Vor.Where are my recreant son and daughter gone:Nay, think not with those eye-drops to deceive me;Tell me, I say,—thou know’st full well their flight!

Vor.Where are my recreant son and daughter gone:

Nay, think not with those eye-drops to deceive me;

Tell me, I say,—thou know’st full well their flight!

Edm.If in these veins doth run the blood of life,Or there be truth on earth, I know not of them.

Edm.If in these veins doth run the blood of life,

Or there be truth on earth, I know not of them.

Vor.Deceive me not; I say thou speak’st most false.I know the quality of women’s eyes,That, in a breath, can weep, can laugh, or frown.Say not these waters flow for loss o’ them;I know thee well, thou hast with both conspir’d;’Twere better thou mak’st known their hiding place.

Vor.Deceive me not; I say thou speak’st most false.

I know the quality of women’s eyes,

That, in a breath, can weep, can laugh, or frown.

Say not these waters flow for loss o’ them;

I know thee well, thou hast with both conspir’d;

’Twere better thou mak’st known their hiding place.

Edm.O! sir, these tears do stop my pow’r o’ speech,Which would again vouch that I utter’d.

Edm.O! sir, these tears do stop my pow’r o’ speech,

Which would again vouch that I utter’d.

Vor.It is most false: but look to’t, and dost hear me,—Come not athwart me and my purposes,Lest thou shouldst add to that fierce hate I bear thee.

Vor.It is most false: but look to’t, and dost hear me,—

Come not athwart me and my purposes,

Lest thou shouldst add to that fierce hate I bear thee.

[Exit.

Edm.And can this be? these ears were sure deceiv’dYet I sleep not, nor is my brain distemper’d.It was not so, he said not he did hate me!O! heav’ns, in your great mercy, aid me now;And if your pleasure be not to tormentOur poor existence in this span of life,Aid me to bear my weight o’ miseries!Oh! yet again! my son and daughter gone,And tell not me the cause o’ this, their flight.My brain grows hot, I can no longer bear it.Forbid his presence, too! O! I am distracted!If sleep will quiet me, I’ll to the poppy,And with its juices drench these fev’rous lips!Yes! I ha’ need of med’cine and of comfort!Again, my wits do wander: I’ll retire;And lest the bleak winds battle with my head,I’ll to my couch, and lay me on its pillow.

Edm.And can this be? these ears were sure deceiv’d

Yet I sleep not, nor is my brain distemper’d.

It was not so, he said not he did hate me!

O! heav’ns, in your great mercy, aid me now;

And if your pleasure be not to torment

Our poor existence in this span of life,

Aid me to bear my weight o’ miseries!

Oh! yet again! my son and daughter gone,

And tell not me the cause o’ this, their flight.

My brain grows hot, I can no longer bear it.

Forbid his presence, too! O! I am distracted!

If sleep will quiet me, I’ll to the poppy,

And with its juices drench these fev’rous lips!

Yes! I ha’ need of med’cine and of comfort!

Again, my wits do wander: I’ll retire;

And lest the bleak winds battle with my head,

I’ll to my couch, and lay me on its pillow.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.—A WOOD.

EnterPascentius,Flaviadisguised, andFool.

Pas.Speak, dearest sister, say, how fares it with thee?For those soft limbs were form’d for gentler usage;But cheer thee up, my Flavia; whilst I’m with thee,Thou must not faint: if there be comfort near,I’ll seek it, and from out the tiger’s jawTear forth its food; or if the thirsty lionShould stand betwixt me and the bubbling brook,This arm should find a passage to its heart.But an thou need’st nor food, nor element,Then will I sit and comfort thy sweet tears;And as the smaller stream doth ofttimes mingle,And add its nothingness to the vasty sea,So on thy streaming cheek will I let fallOne pitying tear, one tender drop of sorrow.Fla.Oh! gentle, excellent, most loving brother,It is my aching heart which thus o’ercomes me.Wretch that I am! what hath my mother done,That, lacking pity, I could leave her thus:How can her drooping heart bear this sad shock?Can her meek soul my father’s rage encounter?No, no! impossible! thus am I wretched.Then O! you righteous and all-powerful Judge,If human breath, with pure soul offer’d up,Can touch you, or obtain your gentle hearing,Behold a maiden for a mother sues,And on her bended knees implores protection.Let some kind angel, minister of mercy,Pour on her wounded soul the balm of comfort;And, in the place of overwhelming sorrow,Let the dear plant of smiling joy bud forth:And should she weep, then may her dewy tearsBe those of tender peace and charity.

Pas.Speak, dearest sister, say, how fares it with thee?

For those soft limbs were form’d for gentler usage;

But cheer thee up, my Flavia; whilst I’m with thee,

Thou must not faint: if there be comfort near,

I’ll seek it, and from out the tiger’s jaw

Tear forth its food; or if the thirsty lion

Should stand betwixt me and the bubbling brook,

This arm should find a passage to its heart.

But an thou need’st nor food, nor element,

Then will I sit and comfort thy sweet tears;

And as the smaller stream doth ofttimes mingle,

And add its nothingness to the vasty sea,

So on thy streaming cheek will I let fall

One pitying tear, one tender drop of sorrow.

Fla.Oh! gentle, excellent, most loving brother,It is my aching heart which thus o’ercomes me.Wretch that I am! what hath my mother done,That, lacking pity, I could leave her thus:How can her drooping heart bear this sad shock?Can her meek soul my father’s rage encounter?No, no! impossible! thus am I wretched.Then O! you righteous and all-powerful Judge,If human breath, with pure soul offer’d up,Can touch you, or obtain your gentle hearing,Behold a maiden for a mother sues,And on her bended knees implores protection.Let some kind angel, minister of mercy,Pour on her wounded soul the balm of comfort;And, in the place of overwhelming sorrow,Let the dear plant of smiling joy bud forth:And should she weep, then may her dewy tearsBe those of tender peace and charity.

Fla.Oh! gentle, excellent, most loving brother,

It is my aching heart which thus o’ercomes me.

Wretch that I am! what hath my mother done,

That, lacking pity, I could leave her thus:

How can her drooping heart bear this sad shock?

Can her meek soul my father’s rage encounter?

No, no! impossible! thus am I wretched.

Then O! you righteous and all-powerful Judge,

If human breath, with pure soul offer’d up,

Can touch you, or obtain your gentle hearing,

Behold a maiden for a mother sues,

And on her bended knees implores protection.

Let some kind angel, minister of mercy,

Pour on her wounded soul the balm of comfort;

And, in the place of overwhelming sorrow,

Let the dear plant of smiling joy bud forth:

And should she weep, then may her dewy tears

Be those of tender peace and charity.

Fool.By my troth, mine eyes did never water so before: sweet mistress, an thou hast charm’d thy Fool, methinks the choir o’ angels needs must listen to thy prayer: and yet these underprops o’ mine do sorely ache; and wherefore should they? for an I do eat, then am I loaded, and do bear it well; but now that I am empty, these porters wont carry me; this is strange, and needs more wisdom to unveil than lies in my poor, foolish brain.

Fla.Methinks, I’d sit and rest me here awhile.Pas.Then to the shade of yon imperial oakI’ll lead thee; there thou calmly may’st repose:Our honest knave the while shall sing a strain,And sooth thy sad and secret melancholy.

Fla.Methinks, I’d sit and rest me here awhile.

Pas.Then to the shade of yon imperial oakI’ll lead thee; there thou calmly may’st repose:Our honest knave the while shall sing a strain,And sooth thy sad and secret melancholy.

Pas.Then to the shade of yon imperial oak

I’ll lead thee; there thou calmly may’st repose:

Our honest knave the while shall sing a strain,

And sooth thy sad and secret melancholy.

Fool.Why, to be brief, good master, I needs would sing; but that gentle lady hath crack’d the strings o’ my voice: an ’twill please you weep, marry I’ll take the loudest pipe; and should I fail in giving entertainment, why then I’ll to Paul’s, and there, i’the presence of Bonner, be whipped for a slanderer.

Pas.I pray thee, Fool, do as I list.

Fool.Now, then, I’ll pipe; but, by my troth, you seem sad, and needs will me to sing merrily well, an folly will please you, I’ll to’t straight.

Foolsings.

A Fool must needs be merry,Lack, lack, and a well a day!And in his shoes must buryHis sorrow, and all his care.Then is not the Fool’s lot hard;Is not his mind sore treated;Do not his friends, of ’s poor brains,Make physic for their senses?Then lack, lack, and well a day!But in this our world, ’tis true,Lack, lack, and well a day!We our old friends change for new,When they no longer suit us.Then heigh-ho, poor dobbins all,Be sharp with men, I pray you;They bear the minds of fools indeed,Yet are but knaves, I tell you.Then lack, lack, and well a day!

A Fool must needs be merry,

Lack, lack, and a well a day!

And in his shoes must bury

His sorrow, and all his care.

Then is not the Fool’s lot hard;

Is not his mind sore treated;

Do not his friends, of ’s poor brains,

Make physic for their senses?

Then lack, lack, and well a day!

But in this our world, ’tis true,Lack, lack, and well a day!We our old friends change for new,When they no longer suit us.Then heigh-ho, poor dobbins all,Be sharp with men, I pray you;They bear the minds of fools indeed,Yet are but knaves, I tell you.Then lack, lack, and well a day!

But in this our world, ’tis true,

Lack, lack, and well a day!

We our old friends change for new,

When they no longer suit us.

Then heigh-ho, poor dobbins all,

Be sharp with men, I pray you;

They bear the minds of fools indeed,

Yet are but knaves, I tell you.

Then lack, lack, and well a day!

Fla.Good, honest Fool, I do sincerely thank thee.

Fool.Nay, nay, say not so; an I had flattered, why then, perchance, I had merited this; but i’faith, gentle lady, he that says nought, save the bare truth, doth ofttimes meet but a bare compliment. But an you do flatter, methinks the compliment will savour more of untruth, than did the flattery; but thus it goes with our slippery world.

Pas.Who is it comes this way?Fla.Let us retire;Perchance, it may be one of our pursuers.

Pas.Who is it comes this way?

Fla.Let us retire;Perchance, it may be one of our pursuers.

Fla.Let us retire;

Perchance, it may be one of our pursuers.

Fool.An thou’lt listen awhile to me, I’ll tell thee thou need’st not fear; ’tis but the post on ’s way to your father’s palace.

EnterPost.

Pas.Friend, thou outrunnest almost speed itself;Whither art bound?Post.I am for London, sir.Pas.Nay, stop one moment; I conjure thee, stop!Say what these tidings that demand such haste?Post.That which my packets do contain.Pas.An thou will tell me their contents, there’s gold.

Pas.Friend, thou outrunnest almost speed itself;Whither art bound?

Pas.Friend, thou outrunnest almost speed itself;

Whither art bound?

Post.I am for London, sir.

Pas.Nay, stop one moment; I conjure thee, stop!Say what these tidings that demand such haste?

Pas.Nay, stop one moment; I conjure thee, stop!

Say what these tidings that demand such haste?

Post.That which my packets do contain.

Pas.An thou will tell me their contents, there’s gold.

Fool.Now, i’ troth, thou’lt unlock letters, packets, and all: look, look! the knave doth handle it with good grace! Sirrah, an thou play’dst on David’s harp, thy fingers ne’er would move so glibly o’er the strings, as o’er yon gold. Dost hear me?

Post.Thy gold, indeed, doth please; it fills my purse;And though it should not, yet what matters it?I am well fee’d for telling that alone,Which every simple peasant soon must know.Then thus it is—Vortigern is accus’dOf the base murder of Constantius!Fla.Heavens!Post.Yea; and even now the princes marching hitherFrom Scotland, with them bring a numerous army.Pas.Alas! my father: yet, I do beseech thee,How know they this? Who was’t instructed them?Post.Swift messengers, despatch’d by friends to Rome:Further I know not—therefore, must away.

Post.Thy gold, indeed, doth please; it fills my purse;

And though it should not, yet what matters it?

I am well fee’d for telling that alone,

Which every simple peasant soon must know.

Then thus it is—Vortigern is accus’d

Of the base murder of Constantius!

Fla.Heavens!

Post.Yea; and even now the princes marching hitherFrom Scotland, with them bring a numerous army.

Post.Yea; and even now the princes marching hither

From Scotland, with them bring a numerous army.

Pas.Alas! my father: yet, I do beseech thee,How know they this? Who was’t instructed them?

Pas.Alas! my father: yet, I do beseech thee,

How know they this? Who was’t instructed them?

Post.Swift messengers, despatch’d by friends to Rome:Further I know not—therefore, must away.

Post.Swift messengers, despatch’d by friends to Rome:

Further I know not—therefore, must away.

[Exit Post.

Fool.Go to, go to, I do believe thee: marry, an thouart humble, thy purse is somewhat prouder. Good sir,wer’t not best we put on; I am faint at heart: marry,’tis pity my wits did not fill their owner, as well as thosewho do beg them.Pas.Let’s on; and yet what course is’t fit we take?The night doth throw his sooty mantle round,And robs us of the cheering light of day.Fla.Oh! would this night could pluck my sorrow from me!Or that the long, eternal sleep of deathWould close life’s wretched, weary pilgrimage.Pas.Oh! sister, an thou lov’st me, grieve not so.Fla.If charity be meek, e’en so will I;And where thou lead’st, resign’d I’ll follow thee.

Fool.Go to, go to, I do believe thee: marry, an thou

art humble, thy purse is somewhat prouder. Good sir,

wer’t not best we put on; I am faint at heart: marry,

’tis pity my wits did not fill their owner, as well as those

who do beg them.

Pas.Let’s on; and yet what course is’t fit we take?The night doth throw his sooty mantle round,And robs us of the cheering light of day.

Pas.Let’s on; and yet what course is’t fit we take?

The night doth throw his sooty mantle round,

And robs us of the cheering light of day.

Fla.Oh! would this night could pluck my sorrow from me!Or that the long, eternal sleep of deathWould close life’s wretched, weary pilgrimage.

Fla.Oh! would this night could pluck my sorrow from me!

Or that the long, eternal sleep of death

Would close life’s wretched, weary pilgrimage.

Pas.Oh! sister, an thou lov’st me, grieve not so.

Fla.If charity be meek, e’en so will I;And where thou lead’st, resign’d I’ll follow thee.

Fla.If charity be meek, e’en so will I;

And where thou lead’st, resign’d I’ll follow thee.

Fool.Marry! an you’ll listen to a fool, perchance he may, for once, speak wisely.

Pas.Out with thy counsel, then.

Fool.Thus it is:—chance hath made me your Fool; and chance will now, that your Fool speak something like wisdom: marry, is not this the road to Scotland? Dost understand me?

Pas.Truly, I understand thee.

Fool.To’t again:—what say’st thou o’ joining the young princes on their march?

Pas.It is most wisely utter’d, my good Fool!Come, gentle sister; we’ll to th’ skirt o’th’ wood,And find some cottage that may serve to night,As ’twere a palace.—All may yet be well.

Pas.It is most wisely utter’d, my good Fool!

Come, gentle sister; we’ll to th’ skirt o’th’ wood,

And find some cottage that may serve to night,

As ’twere a palace.—All may yet be well.

[Exeunt.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

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