Works of John Dryden.

Volume 16
Plays: King Arthur. Cleomenes. Love
Triumphant. Contributions to The
Pilgrim Vinton A. Dearing (Editor)
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T H E WORKS OF J O H N DRYDEN

Editor

VINTON A. DEARING
LUME SlXTEE

EDITOR

Vinton A. Dearing
 VOLUME XVI

The Works
of John Dryden

Plays
KING A R T H U R
CLEOMENES
LOVE T R I U M P H A N T
CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE PILGRIM

University of California Press

Berkeley Los Angeles London
1996
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS
Berkeley and Los Angeles, California

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS, LTD.

London, England

The copy texts of this edition have been drawn in the

main from the Dry den Collection of the
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

Copyright © 1996 by The Regents of the University of California

ISBN: 0-5*0-08166-6
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: ¡5-7149
Designed by Ward Ritchie
 To
Mary Dearing Langworthy
Timothy Harvard Langworthy
John Vinton Langworthy
 The preparation of this volume of the California edition of
The Works of John Dryden has been made possible in part
by a grant from the National Endowment for the Humani-
ties, an independent federal agency, and by a matching grant
from The UCLA Foundation.
Preface

In Dryden's last decade he brought before the theatergoing pub-

lic a dramatic opera, a tragedy, a tragicomedy, and appendages to
an old comedy by John Fletcher, revived and revised in part so
that Dryden might have the profits of its third night. By the ac-
cident that Henry Purcell wrote the music for the opera, it is
still produced from time to time. Also, the words of The Secular
Masque, Dryden's major contribution to The Pilgrim, still find
their place in anthologies. Accompanying this spectrum of the
dramatic kinds Dryden provided wide-ranging reports from the
fighting front as he, an experienced member of the theatrical
community who was also an endless experimenter, aesthetician,
political commentator, and moralist, met attacking forces of
various kinds. We wish to thank those who have helped us look
over Dryden's shoulder as he sat writing in the front room on
the ground floor of his house in Gerrard Street, the site of the
present number 44 in what is today the heart of London's China-
town.
Besides the National Endowment for the Humanities and
The UCLA Foundation, whose grants-in-aid are acknowledged
elsewhere, I wish to thank Chancellor Charles E. Young and
the Research Committee of the University of California, Los
Angeles, for sabbatical leave and additional grants-in-aid. I am
also grateful to former Vice-Chancellor William D. Schaefer for
encouragement and support.
Those who have given time and effort to producing the Cali-
fornia Dryden owe a great debt to the staffs of the libraries and
other institutions they have visited or who have responded to
requests of various kinds. First among these is necessarily the
staff of the William Andrews Clark Library, on whose collections
the edition principally rests. We trust that other librarians and
the public whose gifts and taxes support their institutions, will
feel our gratitude for benefits bestowed even if we have not un-
dertaken to be more specific.
In 1995, the tercentenary of Henry Purcell's death, two pro-
ductions of his and Dryden's opera King Arthur came on stage,
one in Europe, one in the United States. The historical staging
of the American production made us see what thefirstaudience
viii Preface

saw, the modern staging of the European production made us feel

what the first audience felt. A research grant from The UCLA
Foundation allowed me to attend performances of both produC'
tions, and the following people answered questions about them:
J. Thomas Boggs, Paul Brown, designer of the European produc-
tion, Jack Edwards, director of the American production, Cor-
mac Simms of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and
Professor Tamie Watters. Some years previously, Dr. Kay Lipton
and Professor Harris Saunders had helped me describe the music
in the opera, and after I had refocussed and added to my descrip-
tion on the basis of what I had seen and heard on the stage, Pro-
fessor Saunders was kind enough to read over the new material.
The following persons have helped in one way or another with
the preparation of this volume, some by their typing skills, some
by their research, editorial or proofreading skills: Jane Abelson,
Evajane Boranian, Wendy Rose Bryden, Professor Susan Car-
magno, Professor Dianne Dugaw, Professor Walter Ellis, Frances
Farrell, Christine Ferris, Barbara Foxe, Jeanette Dearborn Gilki-
son, Nina Anne Greeley, Robert Hunt, Shirley Kahlert, Jill
Kuhn, Ronald Lear, Dr. Geraldine Moyle, Professor Susan Jane
Owen, Sherry Rader, Gayle Shattuck, Hugh Stocks and Diann
Vanzile.
I am especially grateful to Mrs. Geneva Phillips, our Managing
Editor, and to Mrs. Grace Stimson, the latter for editing the
manuscript and for preparing it for the printer, and the former
for participating in research herself as well as coordinating the
researches of others and acting as liaison with the press.
V. A. D.
Contents

King Arthur, or The British Worthy 1

Cleomenes, the Spartan Heroe 71
Love Triumphant, or Nature Will Prevail 167
Contributions to The Pilgrim, by John Fletcher, revised by
Sir John Vanbrugh a6i
Prologue 263
Epilogue 265
Song of a Scholar to His Mistress 268
The Secular Masque 270
Commentary 275
Textual Notes 435
Appendixes
A. Henry Purcell's Music for King Arthur 475
B. The Life of Cleomenes, by Plutarch, translated by
Thomas Creech 515
Index to the Commentary 535
Illustrations

A PERFORMANCE OF The Secular Masque AT THE

W I L L I A M ANDREWS C L A R K MEMORIAL LIBRARY Frontispiece
TITLE PAGE OF King Arthur 2
FRONTISPIECE TO KING ARTHUR ( 1 7 3 5 ) FACING PAGE 53
T I T L E PAGE OF CLEOMENES 72
FRONTISPIECE TO C LEOMENES ( 1 7 35) FACING PAGE 165
T I T L E PAGE OF LOVE TRIUMPHANT 168
FRONTISPIECE TO LOVE TRIUMPHANT (1735) FACING PAGE 193
T I T L E PAGE OF THE PILGRIM 262
HALF TITLE OF The Secular Masque 267
A New Song in the Dramatick Opera, "Your
Hay it is Mow'd" (King Arthur) 507
A Song in the Dramatick Opera, "Fairest Isle"
{King Arthur) 508
 KING ARTHUR
OR

THE BRITISH WORTHY

King ARTHUR:
O R,

The Britifli Worthy.

A Dramatic^

O P E R A .
Perform'd at the QVEENS Theatre
By Their M A J E S T I E S Servants.

Written by Mr. D R V D E N.

fíííí <?/m Tbeatris

Fundamenta locant : S cénit Atiera alta faturh. V i r g . <£neid. i .
Purpurea ¡ntexti toüunt aula a Britanni. Georg. 3.10.
Tont01? placait concurren motu. iEneid. 1 1 .
Jupitert atenía Genteis in pace pnurai ?
Et Celebrare Domenica fatta, Hor.

London, Printed for Jacob Tonfon, at the Judges-Head

in Chanccry-Lanc near Fleetjlreet.

TITLE PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION (MACDONALD 91 A)

 King Arthur 3

T o the
MARQU1SS of HALLIFAX.

My LORD,

T
HIS Poem was the last Piece of Service, which I had the
Honour to do, for my Gracious Master, King Charles the
Second: And though he liv'd not to see the Performance
of it, on the Stage; yet the Prologue to it, which was the Opera of
Albion and Albanius, was often practis'd before Him at White-
hal, and encourag'd by His Royal Approbation. It was indeed a
Time, which was proper for Triumph, when He had overcome
all those Difficulties which for some Years had perplex'd His
10 Peaceful Reign: But when He had just restor'd His People to
their Senses, and made the latter End of His Government, of a
Piece with the Happy Beginning of it, He was on the suddain
snatch'd away, from the Blessings and Acclamations of His Sub-
jects, who arriv'd so late to the Knowledge of Him, that they had
but just time enough to desire Him longer, before they were to
part with Him for ever. Peace be with the Ashes of so Good a
King! Let His Humane Frailties be forgotten; and His Clem-
ency and Moderation (the inherent Virtues of His Family) be
remembred with a Grateful Veneration by Three Kingdoms,
20 through which He spread the Blessings of them. And, as your
Lordship held a principal Place in His Esteem, and perhaps the
first in His Affection, during His latter Troubles; the Success
which accompanied those prudent Counsels, cannot but reflect
an Honour on those few who manag'd them; and wrought out,
by their Faithfulness and Diligence, the Publick Safety. I might
dilate on the Difficulties which attended that Undertaking, the
Temper of the People, the Power, Arts and Interest of the con-
trary Party, but those are all of them Invidious Topicks; they
are too green in our Remembrance; and he who touches on them,
so Incedit per ignes, suppositos cineri doloso. But without reproach-

4 Opera] Opera QI-2, F, D. 5 and\ and QI-2, F, D.

4 King Arthur

ing one side to praise another, I may justly recommend to both,

those wholsom Counsels, which wisely administred, and as well
executed, were the Means of preventing a Civil War, and of ex-
tinguishing a growing Fire which was just ready to have broken
forth among us. So many Wives, who have yet their Husbands
in their Arms; so many Parents, who have not the Number of
their Children lessen'd; so many Villages, Towns and Cities,
whose Inhabitants are not decreas'd, their Property violated, or
their Wealth diminish'd, are yet owing to the sober Conduct,
and happy Results of your Advice. If a true Account may be ex-
pected by future Ages, from the present, your Lordship will be
delivered over to Posterity, in a fairer Character than I have
given: And be read, not in the Preface of a Play, (whose Author
is not vain enough to promise Immortality to others, or to hope
it for himself) but in many Pages of a Chronicle, fill'd with
Praises of your Administration. For if Writers be just to the
Memory of King CHARLES the Second, they cannot deny him
to have been an exact Knower of Mankind, and a perfect Dis-
tinguisher of their Talents. 'Tis true, his Necessities often forc'd
him to vary his Councellours and Councils, and sometimes to
employ such Persons in the Management of his Affairs, who were
rather fit for his present purpose, than satisfactory to his Judg-
ment: But where it was Choice in him, not Compulsion, he was
Master of too much good Sense to delight in heavy Conversation;
and whatever his Favourites of State might be, yet those of his
Affection, were Men of Wit. He was easie with these; and com-
ply'd only with the former: But in the latter part of his Life,
which certainly requir'd to be most cautiously manag'd, his secret
Thoughts were communicated but to few; and those selected of
that sort, who were Amici omnium Horarum, able to advise him
in a serious Consult, where his Honour and Safety were con-
cern'd; and afterwards capable of entertaining him with pleasant
Discourse, as well as profitable. In this Maturest part of his Age,
when he had been long season'd with Difficulties and Dangers,
and was grown to a Niceness in his Choice, as being satisfied how
few cou'd be trusted; and, of those who cou'd be trusted, how
il Ages,] comma failed to print in some copies of Qr.
 King Arthur 5
few cou'd serve him, he confined himself to a small Number of
Bosom Friends; amongst whom, the World is much mistaken, if
your Lordship was not first.
If the Rewards which you receiv'd for those Services, were only
Honours, it rather shew'd the Necessities of the Times, than any
want of Kindness in your Royal Master: And as the Splendour of
your Fortune stood not in need of being supported by the Crown,
so likewise in being satisfied without other Recompence, you
show'd your self to be above a Mercenary Interest; and strength-
10 en'd that Power, which bestowed those Titles on you: Which
truly speaking, were Marks of Acknowledgment more than Fa-
vour.
But, as a Skilful Pilot will not be tempted out to Sea, in sus-
pected Weather, so have you wisely chosen to withdraw your self
from publick Business, when the Face of Heaven grew troubled;
and the frequent shifting of the Winds foreshew'd a Storm:
There are Times and Seasons when the best Patriots are willing
to withdraw their Hands from the Commonwealth; as Phocion
in his latter Days was observ'd to decline the Management of
20 Affairs: Or, as Cicero, (to draw the Similitude more home) left
the Pulpit, for Tusculum, and the praise of Oratory, for the
sweet Enjoyments of a private Life: And, in the Happiness of
those Retirements, has more oblig'd Posterity by his Moral Pre-
cepts, than he did the Republick, in quelling the Conspiracy of
Catiline. What prudent Man, wou'd not rather follow the Exam-
ple of his Retreat, than stay like Cato, with a stubborn unsea-
sonable Virtue, to oppose the Torrent of the People, and at last
be driven from the Market-place by a Riot of a Multitude, un-
capable of Counsel, and deaf to Eloquence? There is likewise a
so Portion of our Lives, which every Wise Man may justly reserve
to his own peculiar use, and that without defrauding his Native
Country. A Roman Soldier was allow'd to plead the Merit of
his Services for his dismission at such an Age; and there was but
one Exception to that Rule, which was, an Invasion from the

8* Life:] Q i - s , F, D.
23-24 Moral Precepts] Moral Precepts Q1-2, F, D.
32 Country] Q2, F,D; Coutry Qi. 32 Roman] D; Roman Q1-2, F.
 6 King Arthur

Gauls. How far that, may work with your Lordship, I am not
certain; but I hope it is not coming to the Trial.
In the mean time, while the Nation is secur'd from Foreign
Attempts, by so powerful a Fleet, and we enjoy not only the
Happiness, but even the Ornaments of Peace, in the Diver tise-
ment of the Town, I humbly offer you this Trifle, which if it
succeed upon the Stage, is like to be the chiefest Entertainment
of our Ladies and Gentlemen this Summer. When I wrote it,
seven Years ago, I employ'd some reading about it, to inform
io my self out of Beda, Bochartus, and other Authors, concerning
the Rites and Customs of the Heathen Saxons; as I also us'd the
little Skill I have in Poetry to adorn it. But not to offend the
present Times, nor a Government which has hitherto protected
me, I have been oblig'd so much to alter the first Design, and
take away so many Beauties from the Writing, that it is now
no more what it was formerly, than the present Ship of the Royal
Sovereign, after so often taking down, and altering, is the Vessel
it was at the first Building. There is nothing better, than what
I intended, but the Musick; which has since arriv'd to a greater
20 Perfection in England, than ever formerly; especially passing
through the Artful Hands of Mr. Purcel, who has Compos'd it
with so great a Genius, that he has nothing to fear but an igno-
rant, ill-judging Audience. But the Numbers of Poetry and
Vocal Musick, are sometimes so contrary, that in many places
I have been oblig'd to cramp my Verses, and make them rugged
to the Reader, that they may be harmonious to the Hearer: Of
which I have no Reason to repent me, because these sorts of
Entertainment are principally design'd for the Ear and Eye; and
therefore in Reason my Art on this occasion, ought to be sub-
ao servient to his. And besides, I flatter my self with an Imagination,
that a Judicious Audience will easily distinguish betwixt the
Songs wherein I have comply'd with him, and those in which I

1 1 Saxons] Saxons Q i - i , F, D.
14 me,] Qi (second state), Qs, F, D; me, (and by a particular Favour wou'd
have continued me what I was, if I could have comply'd with the Terms which
were offered me) Qi (first state).
17 is] D; to Q i - a , F.
30 his.] Qi (first state), Qa, F, D; <-«/A Qi (second state).
38 Songs] Q i - 2 , F, D.
 King Arthur 7

have followed the Rules of Poetry, in the Sound and Cadence of

the Words. Notwithstanding all these Disadvantages, there is
somewhat still remaining of the first Spirit with which I wrote it:
And, though I can only speak by ghess, of what pleas'd my first
and best Patroness the Dutchess of Monmouth in the reading,
yet I will venture my Opinion, by the knowledge I have long
had of her Graces Excellent Judgment, and true taste of Poetry,
that the parts of the Airy and Earthy Spirits, and that Fairy kind
of writing, which depends only upon the Force of Imagination,
10 were the Grounds of her liking the Poem, and afterwards of
her Recommending it to the Queen. I have likewise had the
satisfaction to hear, that Her Majesty has Graciously been pleas'd
to peruse the Manuscript of this Opera, and given it Her Royal
Approbation. Poets, who subsist not but on the Favour of Sov-
ereign Princes, and of great Persons, may have leave to be a little
vain, and boast of their Patronage, who encourage the Genius
that animates them. And therefore I will again presume to ghess,
that Her Majesty was not displeas'd to find in this Poem the
Praises of Her Native Country; and the Heroick Actions of so
20 famous a Predecessor in the Government of Great Britain, as
King Arthur.
All this, My Lord, I must confess, looks with a kind of Insin-
uation, that I present you with somewhat not unworthy your
Protection: But I may easily mistake the Favour of Her Majesty
for Her Judgment: I think I cannot be deceiv'd in thus addres-
sing to your Lordship, whom I have had the Honour to know,
at that distance which becomes me, for so many Years. 'Tis true,
that formerly I have shadow'd some part of your Virtues, under
another Name; but the Character, though short and imperfect,
so was so true, that it broke through the Fable, and was discover'd
by its Native Light. What I pretend by this Dedication, is an
Honour which I do my self to Posterity, by acquainting them
that I have been conversant with the first Persons of the Age in
which I liv'd; and thereby perpetuate my Prose, when my Verses

s Words.] Qi (first state), Qs, F, D; ~ A Qi (second state).

11 Queen.] Qi (first state), Qg, F, D; Qi (second state).
13 Opera] Opera Q 1 - 2 , F, D.
14 Approbation.] Qi (first state), Q2, F, D; Qi (second state).
8 King Arthur

may possibly be forgotten, or obscur'd by the Fame of Future

Poets: Which Ambition, amongst my other Faults and Imperfec-
tions, be pleased to pardon, in

My LORD,

Your Lordships most Obedient Servant,

John Dryden.
2 Poets:] Qi-g, F, D.
 King Arthur 9

Prologue to the OPERA,

Spoken by Mr. Betterton.

S
URE there's a Dearth of Wit in this dull Town,
When silly Plays so savourly go down:
As when Clipp'd Money passes, 'tis a sign
A Nation is not over-stock'd with Coin.
Happy is he, who, in his own Defence,
Can Write just level to your humble Sence;
Who higher than your Pitch can never go;
And doubtless, he must creep, who Writes below.
So have I seen in Hall of Knight, or Lord,
10 A weak Arm, throw on a long Shovel-Board,
He barely lays his Piece, bar Rubs and Knocks,
Secur'd by Weakness not to reach the Box.
A Feeble Poet will his Bus'ness do; \
Who straining all he can, comes up to you: /
For if you like your Selves, you like him too. )
An Ape his own Dear Image will embrace;
An ugly Beau adores a Hatchet Face:
So some of you, on pure instinct of Nature,
Are led, by Kind, t' admire your fellow Creature:
so In fear of which, our House has sent this Day,
T' insure our New-Built-Vessel, call'd a Play:
No sooner Nam'd, than one crys out, These Stagers
Come in good time, to make more Work for Wagers.
The Town divides, if it will take, or no; "J
The Courtiers Bet, the Cits, the Merchants too; >
A sign they have but little else to do. )

Qia lacks prologue.

17 ugly Beau] Mi; ugly Beau Qib, Q2, F, D.
19 Creature:] M i ; Q i b , Q2,F, D.
s i Play:] Qib, Qs, F, D; Mi.
88-23 These . . . Wagers] in italics in Qib, Qi, F, D.
IO King Arthur

Betts, at the first, were Fool-Traps; where the Wise

Like Spiders, lay in Ambush for the Flies:
But now they're grown a common Trade for all,
And Actions, by the News-Book, Rise and Fall. >
Wits, Cheats, and Fops, are free of Wager-Hall. )
One Policy, as far as Lyons carries;
Another, nearer home sets up for Paris.
Our Betts, at last, wou'd ev'n to Rome extend,
But that the Pope has prov'd our Trusty Friend.
Indeed, it were a Bargain, worth our Money,
Cou'd we insure another Ottobuoni.
Among the rest, there are a sharping Sett,
That Pray for us, and yet against us Bett:
Sure Heav'n it self, is at a loss to know,
If these wou'd have their Pray'rs be heard, or no:
For in great Stakes, we piously suppose,
Men Pray but very faintly they may lose.
Leave off these Wagers; for in Conscience Speaking,
The City needs not your new Tricks for Breaking:
And if you Gallants lose, to all appearing
You'll want an Equipage for Volunteering;
While thus, no Spark of Honour left within ye,
When you shou'd draw the Sword, you draw the Guinea.
 King Arthur il

Dramatis Persona;.

King A rthur. Mr. Betterton.

Oswald, King of Kent, a Saxon
Mr. Williams.
and a Heathen. -}
Conon, Duke of Cornwal, Tributary -} Mr. Hodgson.
to King Arthur.-
Merlin, a famous Inchanter. Mr. Kynaston.
Osmond, a Saxon Magician, and a
Mr. Sandford.
Heathen.
Aurelius, Friend to Arthur. Mr. Alexander.
Albanact, Captain of Arthur's Guards.— Mr. Bowen.
Guillamar, Friend to Oswald. Mr. Harris.

WOMEN.

Emmeline, Daughter of Conon. Mrs. Bracegirdle.

Matilda, her Attendant. Mrs. Richardson.

Philidel, an Airy Spirit. Mrs. Butler.

Grimbald, an Earthy Spirit. Mr. Bowman.

Officers and Soldiers, Singers and Dancers, ire.

Scene in KENT.
Saxon and] D; Saxon Qi-s, F.
Saxon Magician] D; Saxon ~ Qi-s, F.
 KING ARTHUR:
OR,
THE BRITISH WORTHY.

A C T I. SCENE I.

Enter Conon, Aurelius, Albanact.

Con. Then this is the deciding Day, to fix

Great Britain's Scepter in great Arthur's Hand.
Aur. Or put it in the bold Invaders 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 Banks, even to this Barren-Down,
Our foremost Men have prest 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 further 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.
A lb. But why this day more lucky than the rest?
Con. Because this day
Is Sacred to the Patron of our Isle;

7 Saxons] D; Saxons Qi-2, F. 7 Earth:] Q1-2, F, D.

10 Barren-Down] Barren-Down Qi-S, F, D.
Saxon] D; Saxon Qi-a, F.
 King Arthur 13

A Christian, and a Souldiers Annual Feast.

Alb. Oh, now I understand you, This is St. George of Cappa-
docia's Day. Well, It may be so, but Faith I was Ignorant; we
Soldiers seldom examine 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.
Al. Ne'er but once; and that was to my Cost too; I follow'd him
too close, and to say Truth, somwhat Uncivilly, upon a Rout; but
he turn'd upon me, as quick and as round, as a chaff'd Boar; and
gave me two Licks across the Face, to put me in mind of my
Christianity.
Con. I know him well; he's free and open Hearted.
Aur. His Countries 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 Daughters Love:
My Fair, Blind, Emmeline.
Alb. I cannot blame him for Courting the Heiress of Corn-
wall: 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 his Sute.
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,

23-27 As in D; set as verse in Q1-2, F (/ W e l l . . . / Seldom . . . / Happen . . . /

Forgive).
30+ s.d. [To Alb.] as in D; on 1.29 in Q1-2, F.
31-35 As in D; set as verse in Qt-a, F (/ And t o . . . / B u t . . . / And gave . . . / In).
31 and that] Qa, F, D; & that Q i . 37 German] D; German QI-2, F.
38-39 As in D; set as prose in Q1-2, F (and).
44-46 As in D; set as verse in Q1-2, F(/ A l l . . . / No).
51 owe,] Qg, F, D; Qi.
14 King Arthur

I wou'd have chosen out, from all Mankind,

T o be my Soveraign Lord.
Aur. His Worth divides him from the crowd of Kings;
So Born, without Desert to be so Born;
Men, set aloft, to be the Scourge of Heaven;
A n d with long Arms, to lash the Under-World.
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 vanquisht Foes,
As a Forgiving God; but see, he's here,
And Praise is Dumb before him.

Enter King Arthur, Reading a Letter, with Attendants.

Arthur Reading. Go on, Auspicious Prince, the Stars are kind:

Unfold thy Banners to the willing Wind;
While I, with Aiery 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'n and you to Friends; Oh Noble Conon,
You taught my tender Hands the Trade of War;
A n d now again you Helm your hoary Head,
A n d under double weight of Age and Arms,
Assert your Countries Freedom, and my Crown.
Con. No more, my Son.
Arth. Most happy in that Name I
Your Emmeline, to Oswald's Vows refus'd,
You made my plighted Bride:
Your Charming Daughter, who like Love, Born Blind,
Un-aiming hits, with surest Archery,
A n d 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,

66-69 Go ... Charms] in romans in Qi-a, F, D.

 King Arthur 15

March firmly on, to fill the middle space:

Cover'd by their advancing Cavalry.
By Heav'n, 'tis Beauteous Horrour:
T h e Noble Oswald has provok'd my Envy.

Enter Emmeline, led by Matilda.

Hal Now my Beauteous Emmeline appears

so A new, but Oh, a softer Flame, inspires me:
Even Rage and Vengeance, slumber at her sight.
Con. Haste your Farewel; I'll chear my Troops, and wait ye.
[Exit Conon.
Em. Oh 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 self,
100 But full of Glory, as those Lamps of Heav'n
That see not, when they shine.
Em. What is this Heav'n, and Stars, and Night, and Day,
T o 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 wrinkl'd;
But when you grasp it, then I sigh and pant,
And something smarts, and tickles at my Heart.
Arth. Oh Artless Love I where the Soul moves the Tongue,
110 And only Nature speaks what Nature thinks I
Had she but Eyes!
Em. Just now you said I had:
I see 'em, I have two.
Arth. But neither see.
Em. I'm sure they hear you then:
What can your Eyes do more?
Arth. They view your Beauties.
90 A new] Q2 {[corrected state), D; Anew Q i , Qa (uncorrected state), F.
16 King Arthur I, i

Em. Do not I see? You have a Face, like mine,

T w o Hands, and two round, pretty, rising Breasts,
That heave like mine.
Arth. But you describe a Woman.
Nor is it 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 Cloaths; 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 Colours
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 Lips Carnation,
Your shaded Eye-brows, nor your Milk-white Eyes.
Arth. You still mistake.
Em. Indeed I thought you had a Nose and Eyes,
And such a Face as mine; have not Men Faces?
Arth. Oh, none like yours, so excellently fair.
Em. Then wou'd I had no Face; for I wou'd be
Just such a one as you.
Arth. Alas, 'tis vain to instruct your Innocence,
You have no Notion of Light or Colours.
Emmel. Why, is not that a Trumpet? [Trumpet sounds within.
Arth. Yes.
Em. I knew 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,
T o meet T e n thousand Foes.

14s s.d. [Trumpet rounds] Qa, F, D; sound Q i .

 King Arthur 17

Em. How do so many Men e'er come to meet?

This Devil Trumpet vexes 'em, and then
They feel about, for one anothers 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 a short 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 II.

The Scene represents a place of Heathen worship; The three

Saxon Gods, Woden, Thor, and Freya placed on Pedestals.
An Altar.

Enter Oswald and Osmond.

Osmo. 'Tis time to hasten our mysterious Rites;

Because your Army waits you.
Oswa. Thor, Freya, Woden, all ye Saxon Powers,
[Making three Bows before the three Images.
Hear and revenge my Father Hengist's death.
Osmo. Father of Gods and Men, great Woden, hear.

148 do] does Q1-2, F, D. 148 e'er] Q z . F . D ; e e ' r Q i .

154+ s.d. Exit] Exit QJ-2, F, D. 160+ s.d. [£*i<J Q2, F, D; ( — Q i .
SCENE II.] omitted by Qi-a, F, D.
s.d. The Scene . . . Altar. Enter . . . Osmond.] D; Enter . . . Osmond. The Scene
... Altar. Q1-2, F.
s.d. Saxon] D; Saxon Q1-2, F. 3 Saxon] D; Saxon Q i - s , F.
3+ s.d. [Making] D; Oswald making Q i (s.d. centered above 1.3); [Oswald making
Qa, F (s.d. at right above 1.3).
18 King Arthur I, ii

Mount thy hot Courser, drive amidst thy Foes;

Lift high thy thund'ring Arm, let every blow
Dash out a mis-believing Briton's Brains.
Oswa. Father of Gods and Men, great Woden hear;
Give Conquest to thy Saxon Race, and me.
Osmo. Thor, Freya, Woden, hear, and spell your Saxons,
With Sacred Runick Rhimes, from Death in Battle.
Edge their bright Swords, and blunt the Britons Darts.
No more, Great Prince, for see my trusty Fiend,
Who all the Night has wing'd the dusky Air.

Grimbald, a fierce earthy Spirit arises.

What news, my Grimbald?

Grim. I have plaid my part;
For I have Steel'd the Fools that are to dye;
Six Fools, so prodigal of Life and Soul,
That, for their Country, they devote their Lives
A Sacrifice to Mother Earth, and Woden.
Osmo. 'Tis well; But are we sure of Victory?
Grim. Why ask'st thou me?
Inspect their Intrails, draw from thence thy Guess:
Bloud we must have, without it we are dumb.
Osmo. Say, Where's thy fellow-servant, Philidel?
Why comes not he?
Grim. For, he's a puleing Sprite.
Why didst thou chuse a tender airy Form,
Unequal to the mighty work of Mischief?
His Make is flitting, soft, and yielding Atomes:
He trembles at the yawning gulph of Hell,
Nor dares approach the Flame, lest he shou'd 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!
8 Briton's] D; Briton's Q1-2, F. 10 Saxon] D; Saxon Q1-2, F.
11 Saxons] D; Saxons Q1-2, F. 13 Britons] D; Britons Q1-2, F.
28 Mischief?] Q1-2, F, D. 34 Compassion] D; QI-2, F.
35 he!] Q1-2, F, D.
I, ii King Arthur 19

His Errand was, to draw the Low-land damps,

A n d Noisom vapours, from the foggy Fens:
T h e n , breath the baleful stench, with all his force,
Full on the faces of our Christned Foes.
Grim. Accordingly he drein'd those Marshy-grounds;
A n d bagg'd 'em in a blue pestiferous Cloud;
W h i c h when he shou'd have blown, the frighted Elf
Espy'd the Red Cross Banners of their Host;
A n d said he durst not add to his damnation.
Osm. I'le punish him at leisure;
Call in the Victims to propitiate Hell.
Grim. That's my kind Master, I shall break fast on 'em.

Grimbald goes to the Door, and Re-enters with 6 Saxons in

White, with Swords in their hands. They range themselves 3
and 3 in opposition to each other. The rest of the Stage is fill'd
with Priests and Singers.

1 Pr. Woden, first to thee,

A Milk white Steed, in Battle won,
We have Sacrific'd.

Chor. We have Sacrific'd.

Vers. Let our next Oblation be,

To T h o r , thy thundring Son,
Of such another.

Chor. We have Sacrific'd.

Vers. A third; (of Friezeland breed was he,)

To Woden'5 Wife, and to Thor'5 Mother:
And now we have atton'd all three:
We have Sacrific'd.

Chor. We have Sacrific'd.

47+ s.d. Saxons] D; Saxons Q i - 2 , F.

47+ s.d. The rest] as in D; begins a separate s.d. in Q1-2, F.
48 1 Pr.] omitted by QI~2, F, D, Si-).
so King Arthur I, ii

2 Voc. The White Horse Neigh'd aloud.

To Woden thanks we render.
To Woden, we have vow'd.

Chor. To Woden, our Defender.

[The four last Lines in CHORUS.

Vers. The Lot is Cast, and Tanfan pleas'd.

Chor. Of Mortal Cares you shall be eas'd,

Brave Souls to be renown'd in Story.
Honour prizing,
Death despising,
Fame acquiring
By Expiring,
Dye, and reap the fruit of Glory,
Brave Souls to be renown'd in Story.

Vers. 2. I call ye all,

To Woden'i 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.

[The six Saxons are led off by the Priests, in

Order to be Sacrific'd.
Osw. Ambitious Fools we are,
And yet Ambition is a Godlike Fault:
Or rather, 'tis no Fault in Souls Born great,

65 pleas'd.] Q1-2, F, D; plac'd Si-s; plas'd S3.

72 Glory,] Q1-2, F, D; ~ a Si-g.
82 Britons] D; Britons Q1-2, F; Britains Bsi, S1-3.
8a+ s.d. [The six ] Q2 (second state), F, D; Q i , Qg (first state).
8«+ s.d. Saxons] D; Saxons Q t - i , F. 83 Osw.] Q2, F, D; Ows. Q i .
 King Arthur 21

W h o dare extend their Glory by their Deeds.

Now Britany prepare to change thy State,
A n d from this Day begin thy Saxon date.
[Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE III.

A Battle supposed to be given behind the Scenes, with Drums,

Trumpets, and Military Shouts and Excursions: After which,
the Britons, expressing their Joy for the Victory, sing this Song
of Triumph.

Come if you dare, our Trumpets sound;

Come if you dare, the Foes rebound:
W e come, we come, we come, we come,
Says the double, double, double Beat of the Thundring Drum.
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.

The Fainting Saxons quit their Ground,

10 Their Trumpets Languish in the Sound;
They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly;
Victoria, Victoria, the Bold Britons cry.
Now the Victory's won,
To the Plunder we run:
We return to our Lasses like Fortunate Traders,
Triumphant with Spoils of the Vanquish'd Invaders.

88 Saxon] D; Saxon Q i - a , F.
SCENE III.] omitted, by Qr-s, F, D, SI-J.
i, 2 Come if you dare] in italics in QI-2, F, D, Qs.
3 In italics in QJ-2, F, D, Qs.
4-5,18-13 Between these pairs of lines Qi, F have blank lines, making four
quatrains.
 22 King Arthur II, i

A C T II. SCENE I.

Enter Philidel.

Phil. Alas, for pity, of this bloody Fieldl

Piteous it needs must be, when I, a Spirit,
Can have so soft a sense of Humane Woesl
Ahl 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.

Merlin, with Spirits, descends to Philidel,

on a Chariot drawn by Dragons.

Mer. What art thou, Spirit, of what Name and Order?

(For I have view'd thee in my Magick Glass,)
Making thy moan, among the Midnight Wolves,
10 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 tender'st of my kind,
T h e 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,
Awkward in Mischief, piteous of Mankind,
My Name is Philidel, my Lot in Air,
Where next beneath the Moon, and nearest Heav'n,
20 I soar; and have a Glimpse to be receiv'd,
For which the swarthy Daemons envy me.
Mer. Thy Business here?
Phil. T o shun the Saxon Wizards dire Commands,
Osmond, the awful'st Name next thine below;
'Cause I refus'd to hurl a Noysom Fog

A C T I I . S C E N E I.] D ; A C T I I . Q I - 2 , F .
6 + s.d. Merlin] QI-2, F, D (s.d. at right).
21 Damons] Damons Qi-2, F, D.
2 J Saxon] D; Saxon QI-2, F. 24 below;] Q1-2, F, D.
 King Arthur 23

O n Christen'd Heads, the Hue and Cry of Hell

Is rais'd against me, for a Fugitive Spright.
Mer. Osmond shall know, a greater Power protects thee;
But follow thou the Whispers of thy Soul,
T h a t draw thee nearer Heav'n.
And, as thy place is nearest to the Sky,
T h e Rays will reach thee first, and bleach thy Soot.
Phil. In hope of that, I spread my Azure Wings,
A n d 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:
T h o u know'st, in spite of Valiant Oswald's Arms,
Or Osmond's Powerful Spells, the Field is ours.
Phil. O h Master! hasten
T h y Dread Commands; for Grimbald is at Hand;
Osmond's fierce Fiend, I snuff his Earthy Scent:
T h e 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,
A n d trembling Bogs, that bear a Green-Sword show.
Warn off the bold Pursuers from the Chace:
N o more, they come, and we divide the Task.
But lest fierce Grimbald's pond'rous Bulk oppress
T h y tender flitting Air, I'll leave my Band
Of Spirits with United Strength to A i d thee,
And Force with Force repel.
[Exit Merlin on his Chariot.
Merlin's Spirits stay with
Philidel.

Enter Grimbald in the Habit of a Shepherd, follow'd by King

Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, Albanact and Soldiers,
who wander at a distance in the Scenes.

54+ s.d. [Exit] Qa, F; Q i , D.

84 King Arthur

Grim. Here, this way, Britons, follow Oswald's flight;

This Evening as I whistl'd out my Dog,
T o drive my straggling Flock, and pitch'd my Fold,
I saw him dropping Sweat, o'er labour'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.l thank thee, Shepherd;
Expect Reward, lead on, we follow thee.

Phil, sings. Hither this way, this way bend,

Trust not that Malicious Fiend:
Those are false deluding Lights,
Wafted far and near by Sprights.
Trust 'em not, for they'll deceive ye;
And in Bogs and Marshes leave ye.

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.

Philidels Spirits. Trust not that Malicious Fiend.

Grimbalds Spirits. Trust me, I am no Malicious Fiend.

Philidels Spirits. Hither this way, 8cc.

Con. Some wicked Phantom, Foe to H u m a n kind,

Misguides our Steps.
Alba. I'll follow him no farther.
 King Arthur 25

Grimbald speaks. By Hell she sings 'em back, in my despight.

I had a Voice in Heav'n, ere Sulph'rous Steams
Had damp'd 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 betray'd ye:
Follow the Flames, that wave before ye:
Sometimes sev'n and sometimes one;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.

2.

See, see, the Footsteps plain appearing,

That way Oswald chose for flying:
Firm is the Turff, 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
Disturb'd the Print. [All are going to follow Grimbald.

Philidel sings. Hither this way.

Chor. of Phil. Spirits. Hither this way, this way bend.

Chor. of Grimb. Spirits. This way, this way bend.

Philidels Spirits. Trust not that Malicious Fiend.

Grimb. Spirits. Trust me, I am no Malicious Fiend.

Philidels Spirits. Hither this way, Sec.

[They all incline to Philidel.

Grim, speaks. Curse on her Voice, I must my Prey forego;
106+ s.d. [They] Qs, F, D; A ~ Qi.
26 King Arthur

T h o u , Philidel, shalt answer this, below.

[Grimbald sinks with a Flash.
Arth. A t last the Cheat is plain;
T h e 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. And me.

Vers. 2 Voc. And Green-Sword all your way shall be.

Chor. Come follow, 8cc.

Vers. No Goblin or Elf shall dare to offend ye.

Chor. No, no, no, Sec.

No Goblin or Elf shall dare to offend ye.

Vers. 3 Voc. We Brethren of Air,

You Hero's 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.

117,119 Goblin or Elf] Goblin or Elf Qi-s, F, D; Goblin or Elf Si-s.

m Hero's] Hem's Q1-2, F, D; Hero's S1-2.
183+ s d - [Philidel] Qg, F, D; A ~ Qi.
 King Arthur 27

SCENE II.

Pavilion Scene.

Enter Emmeline led by Matilda.

Em. N o News of my Dear Love, or of my Father?

Mat. None, Madam, since the gaining of the Battel;
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 agen,
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 joyn, I know not.
Em. I shou'd find him,
For surely I have seen him in my Sleep,
And then, methought, he put his Mouth to mine,
A n d eat a thousand Kisses on my Lips;
Sure by his Kissing I cou'd 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 Jaundies,
A n d that's a bad Disease.
Em. W h y then do Lovers give a thing so bad
As Gold, to Women, whom so well they love?

SCENE II.] omitted by Q1-2, F, D.

s.d. Pavilion Scene. / Enter . .. Matilda.] Enter . .. Matilda. Pavilion Scene. Q i - a ,
F, D (Scene. Pavilion. D).
7 doubt:] Qi—2, F, D. 10 something] Q i - a , F, D.
*8 King Arthur II, ii

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 learn'd enough for once.
Mat. Here are a Crew of Kentish Lads and Lasses
Wou'd entertain ye, 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 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.
A11 the Day on our Herds, and Flocks
employing;

All the Night on our Flutes, and in enjoying.

Chor. All the Day, 8cc.

2.
Bright Nymphs of Britain, with Graces
attended,
Let not your Days without Pleasure expire;
Honour's but empty, and when Youth is
ended,

53 Kentish] D; Kentish Qi-a, F.

40 and] Qs, F, D, Ds, Bss, Si-a; & Qi.
 King Arthur 29

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 Summers Day;
But a little after Toying,
Women have the Shot to Pay.

2.

Here are Marriage-Vows for signing,

Set their Marks that cannot write:
After that, without Repining,
Play and Welcom, Day and Night.

[Here the Women give the Men Contracts, which they accept.

Chor. of all. Come, Shepherds, lead up, a lively Measure;

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 wilder'd us; and we are fain

Among their foremost Tents.

52+ s.d. [Here] Q i , F, D; Qi. 60+ s.d. [Here] Qz, F, D; A ~ Qi.

64+ s.d. [TheDance] Qa, F, D; A Qi.
64+ s.d. Exeunt] Exeunt Q1-2, F, D.
 Bo King Arthur

Guill. Hal 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?
70 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 Emmeline?
Oswa. to Guilla. I know that Face:
'Tis my Ungrateful Fair, who, scorning mine,
Accepts my Rivals Love: Heav'n, thou'rt bounteous,
Thou ow'st me nothing now.
Mat. Fear grows upon me:
Speak what you are; speak, or I call for help.
Oswa. We are your Guards.
Mat. Ah me! We are betray'd; 'tis Oswald's Voice,
so Em. Let 'em 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; a Rape, a Rape!
Oswa. By Heav'n ye injure me; tho Force is us'd,
Your Honour shall be sacred.
Em. Help, help, Oh Britons, help!
Oswa. Your Britons cannot help you:
so This Arm, through all their Troops, shall force my way;
Yet neither quit my Honour, nor my Prey.
[Exeunt, the Women still crying.

66 these?] Qi-g, F, D.
85 s.d. [Oswald and Guillamar seize Emmeline and Matilda] D; AOswald and
Guillamar seize Emmeline and Matilda Q1-2, F.
85 and] D; & Qi-s, F.
86 me;] Q1-2, F, D. 9 1 + s.d. [Exeunt] Qi, F, D; Qi.
II, iii, iv King Arthur 31

SCENE III.

An Alarm within: Some Soldiers running over the

Stage: Follow, follow, follow.

Enter Albanact Captain of the Guards, with Soldiers.

Alb. Which way went th' Alarm?

i Sol. Here, towards the Castle.
Alb. Pox o' this Victory; the whole Camp's debauch'd:
All Drunk or Whoring: This way, follow, follow. [Exeunt.

[The Alarm renews: Clashing of Swords within for a while.

SCENE IV.

Re-enter Albanact, Officer and Soldiers.

Officer. How sits the Conquest on great Arthur's Brow?

A Iba. 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.
Officer. HarkI a Trumpetl
It sounds a Parley.
Alba. 'Tis from Oswald then,
An Eccho to King Arthur's Friendly Summons,
Sent since he heard the Rape of Emmeline,
T o ask an Interview. [Trumpet answering on the other side.
Officer. But hark I already

SCENE III.] omitted by Q1-2, F, D.

s.d. Follow, follow, follow] Follow, follow, follow Qi-a, F, D.
s.d. Guards] Qa, F, D ; Guurds Q i . 3 s.d. [Exeunt] Qg, D; A ~ Q i , F.
3+ s.d. [The] F, D; A ~ Qi-g. SCENE IV.] omitted by Qi-2, F, D.
2 mixt;] Q1-2, F, D. 5 s.d. [Trumpet] Qg, F, D; Qi.
9 s.d. [Trumpet] Qa, F, D; A ~ Q i .
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Virginia
cavalier
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
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Title: A Virginia cavalier

Author: Molly Elliot Seawell

Illustrator: F. C. Yohn

Release date: September 17, 2023 [eBook #71672]

Language: English

Original publication: New York and London: Harper and

Brothers, 1896

Credits: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, with special thanks to

Abbey Maynard, Courtesy Charles Deering McCormick
Library of Special Collections and University Archives,
Northwestern University Libraries for providing the
missing illustrations, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file
was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGINIA

CAVALIER ***
 [P. 147

“‘NEVER DRAW IT IN AN UNWORTHY CAUSE’”

 A VIRGINIA CAVALIER
BY
MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK AND LONDON

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1903
Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.

All rights reserved.

“Nature made Washington great—but he made himself virtuous”
 ILLUSTRATIONS

“‘NEVER DRAW IT IN AN UNWORTHY CAUSE’” Frontispie

ce
“‘THIS IS MY SON, MR. WASHINGTON’” Facing p. 18
GEORGE BIDS BETTY GOOD-BYE “ 54
SKETCHING THE DEFENCES ON THE
SCHELDT “ 72
“‘IS MARSE GEORGE WASHINGTON HERE,
SUH?’” “ 100
THE DAILY LESSON IN ARMS “ 122
THE FIGHT IN THE KITCHEN PASSAGE “ 136
“SHE WAS THE STATELIEST BEAUTY OF A
SHIP HE HAD EVER SEEN” “ 168
“‘MY SON, MY BEST-LOVED CHILD’” “ 192
“THEY STRUCK NOW INTO THE WILDERNESS” “ 218
“BY DAYLIGHT GEORGE WAS IN THE SADDLE” “ 236
“‘NEVER WILL YOU BE HALF SO BEAUTIFUL
AS OUR MOTHER’” “ 246
THE GOVERNOR’S LEVEE “ 260
“GEORGE HAD THE SAVAGE BY THE THROAT” “ 296
“WITH DRUMS BEATING AND COLORS
FLYING” “ 314
“GEORGE DID ALL THAT MORTAL MAN COULD
DO” “ 342
A VIRGINIA CAVALIER
 CHAPTER I
“Nature made Washington great; but he made himself virtuous.”
The sun shines not upon a lovelier land than midland Virginia. Great
rivers roll seaward through rich woodlands and laughing corn-fields
and fair meadow lands. Afar off, the misty lines of blue hills shine
faintly against the deeper blue of the sky. The atmosphere is
singularly clear, and the air wholesome and refreshing.
Never was it more beautiful than on an afternoon in late October of
1746. The Indian summer was at hand—that golden time when
Nature utters a solemn “Hush!” to the season, and calls back the
summer-time for a little while. The scene was full of peace—the
broad and placid Rappahannock shimmering in the sun, its bosom
unvexed except by the sails of an occasional grain-laden vessel,
making its way quietly and slowly down the blue river. The quiet
homesteads lay basking in the fervid sun, while woods and streams
and fields were full of those soft, harmonious country sounds which
make a kind of musical silence.
A mile or two back from the river ran the King’s highway—a good
road for those days, and showing signs of much travel. It passed at
one point through a natural clearing, on the top of which grew a few
melancholy pines. The road came out of the dense woods on one
side of this open space, and disappeared in the woods on the other
side.
On this October afternoon, about three o’clock, a boy with a gun on
his shoulder and a dog at his heels, came noiselessly out of the
woods and walked up to the top of the knoll. The day was peculiarly
still; but only the quickest ear could have detected the faint sound
the boy made, as with a quick and graceful step he marched up the
hill—for George Washington was a natural woodsman from his
young boyhood, and he had early learned how to make his way
through forest and field without so much as alarming the partridge on
her nest. No art or craft of the woods, whether of white man or
Indian, was unknown to him; and he understood Nature, the mighty
mother, in all her civilized and uncivilized moods.
A full game-bag on his back showed what his employment had been,
but now he gave himself over to the rare but delicious idleness which
occasionally overtakes everybody who tramps long through the
woods. He sat down and took off his cap, revealing his handsome,
blond head. The dog, a beautiful long-eared setter, laid his nose
confidentially upon his master’s knee, and blinked solemnly, with his
large, tawny eyes, into his master’s blue ones. The boy’s eyes were
remarkable—a light but beautiful blue, and softening a face that,
even in boyhood, was full of resolution and even sternness. His
figure was as near perfection as the human form could be—tall,
athletic, clean of limb and deep of chest, singularly graceful, and
developed, as the wise old Greeks developed their bodies, by manly
exercises and healthful brain-work and the cleanest and most
wholesome living. Neither the face nor the figure could belong to a
milksop. The indications of strong passions, of fierce loves and hates
and resentments, were plain enough. But stronger even than these
was that noble expression which a purity of soul and a commanding
will always writes upon the human countenance. This boy was a
gentleman at heart and in soul—not because he had no temptation
to be otherwise, but because he chose to be a gentleman. He sat in
silence for half an hour, the dog resting against him, the two
communing together as only a boy and a dog can. The sun shone,
the wind scarcely ruffled a dying leaf. A crow circled around in the
blue air, uttering a caw that was lost in the immensity of the heavens.
The silence seemed to grow deeper every moment, when, with a
quick movement, George laid his ear to the ground. To an
unpractised ear there was not the slightest break in the quiet, but to
the boy’s trained hearing something was approaching along the
highway, which induced him to sit still awhile longer. It was some
time in coming, for the heavy coaches in those days hung upon wide
leather straps, and with broad-tired wheels made much commotion
as they rolled along, to say nothing of the steady beat of the horses’
hoofs upon the hard road. George’s eyes were as quick as his ears,
but he caught nothing of the approaching travellers until the
cavalcade flashed suddenly into the sun, and with its roar and rattle
seemed to spring out of the ground.
First came four sturdy negro outriders, in a gorgeous livery of green
and gold, and mounted upon stout bay horses, well adapted for hard
travel. Then came a magnificent travelling-coach, crest emblazoned,
which would not have discredited the king’s levee. It was drawn by
four superb roans, exactly matched in form, color, and action. They
took the road as if they had just warmed up to their work; but from
the dust on the whole cavalcade it was plain they had travelled far
that day. With heads well in the air the horses threw their legs
together with a style and at a gait that showed them to be of the best
blood in the horse kingdom. A black postilion in green and gold rode
the off horse of the leaders, while a black coachman handled the
reins. On the box, next the coachman, sat a white man, evidently a
servant out of livery. One glance told that he was an old soldier. He
had at his side one of the huge holsters of the day, in which he
carried a pair of long horse-pistols, and a stout wooden box, upon
which he rested his feet, showed that the party had means of
defence had it been attacked.
George was so stunned with admiration at the splendor of the
equipage that he scarcely glanced at the interior of the coach until
the sunlight flashed upon something that fairly dazzled him. It was a
diamond-hilted dress-sword, worn by a gentleman of about fifty, who
sat alone upon the back seat. The gorgeous sword-hilt was the only
thing about him that shone or glinted, for his brown travelling-suit
was as studiously simple as his equipage was splendid. He wore
plain silver buckles at his knees and upon his handsome, high-
arched feet, and his hair, streaked with gray, was without powder,
and tied into a club with a black ribbon.
One glance at his face fixed George’s attention. It was pale and
somewhat angular, unlike the type of florid, high-colored Virginia
squires with which George was familiar. He had been handsome in
his youth, and was still handsome, with a stately, grave beauty; but
even a boy could see that this man had had but little joy in life.
From the moment that George’s eyes fell upon this gentleman he
looked upon nothing else. Neither the great coach nor the superb
horses had any power to attract his gaze, although never, in all his
short life, had he seen anything so splendid. His mother had a
coach, and so had most of the people round about, but all had a
common air of having once been handsome, and of having reached
the comfortable, shabby-genteel stage. And many persons drove
four horses to these great lumbering vehicles, but all four would not
be worth one of the gallant roans that trotted along the road so gayly.
It was out of sight in a few minutes, and in a few minutes more it was
out of hearing; but in that time George, who was quick-witted, had
shrewdly guessed the name and rank of the gentleman with the plain
clothes and the diamond-hilted sword. It was the great Earl of Fairfax
—the soldier, the wit, the rich nobleman—who for some mysterious
reason had chosen to come to this new land, and to build a lodge in
the wilderness. The boy had often heard his mother, Madam
Washington, speak of Earl Fairfax. Meeting with him was one of the
events of that great journey she had made in her girlhood to
England, where for a time she lived in the house of her brother
Joseph Ball, at Cookham, in Berkshire, who had left his Virginia
home and had taken up his residence in England. Here Mary Ball
had met Augustine Washington, then in England upon affairs
connected with his property. Augustine Washington was one of the
handsomest men of his day, and from him his eldest son George
inherited the noble air and figure that marked him. Mary Ball was a
Virginia beauty, and although admired by many Englishmen of
distinction, she rather chose to marry Augustine Washington, albeit
he had been married before, and had two motherless boys. In
England, therefore, were they married, sailing soon after for Virginia,
and within twelve years Mrs. Washington was a widow with five
children. She loved to talk to her children of those happy English
days, when she had first pledged herself to Augustine Washington. It
had also been the only time of excitement in her quiet life, and she
had met many of the wits and cavaliers and belles of the reign of
George the Second. She sometimes spoke of Lord Fairfax, but
always guardedly; and George had conceived the idea that his
mother perhaps knew Lord Fairfax better, and the reasons for his
abandonment of his own country, than she cared to tell.
He began to wonder, quite naturally, where the earl was bound; and
suddenly it came to him in a flash—“He is going to pay his respects
to my mother.” In another instant he was on his feet and speeding
like a deer through the woods towards home.
The house at Ferry Farm, which was home to him, was a good four
miles by the road, but by paths through the woods and fields, and a
foot-bridge across a creek, it was barely a mile. It took him but a
short time to make it, but before he could reach the house he saw
the coach and outriders dash into sight and draw up before the
porch. The old soldier jumped from the box and opened the door and
let down the steps, and the earl descended in state. On the porch
stood Uncle Jasper, the venerable black butler, in a suit of
homespun, with a long white apron that reached from his chin to his
knees. George saw him bowing and ushering the earl in. The
outriders loosened their horses’ girths, and, after breathing them, led
them to the watering-trough in the stable-lot back of the house. They
then watered the coach-horses, the coachman sitting in solitary
magnificence on his box, while the old soldier stretched his legs by
walking about the lot. George saw this as he came through the
stable way, his dog still at his heels. Uncle Jasper was waiting for
him on the back porch.
“De madam,” he began, in a mysterious whisper, “will want you ter
put on yo’ Sunday clo’es fo’ you come in ter see de Earl o’ Fairfax.
He’s in de settin’-room now.”
George understood very well, and immediately went to his room to
change his hunting-clothes, which were the worse for both dirt and
wear. It was a ceremonious age, and the formalities of dress and
manners were very strictly observed.
Meanwhile, in the sitting-room, on opposite sides of the fireplace, sat
Madam Washington and the earl. Truly, the beauty that had
distinguished Mary Ball remained with Madam Washington. Her
figure was slight and delicate (not from her had her eldest son
inherited his brawn and muscle), and in her severely simple black
gown she looked even slighter than usual. Her complexion was
dazzlingly fair, and little rings of chestnut hair escaped from her
widow’s cap; but her fine blue eyes were the counterpart of her
eldest son’s. The room was plainly furnished, even for the times, but
scrupulously neat. A rag-carpet covered the middle of the floor, while
around the edges the polished planks were bare. In one corner a
small harpsichord was open, with music on the rack. Dimity curtains
shaded the small-paned windows, and a great fire sparkled in the
large fireplace. Over the mantel hung the portrait of a handsome
young man in a satin coat with lace ruffles. This was a portrait of
Augustine Washington in his youth. Opposite it was a portrait of
Madam Washington as a girl—a lovely young face and figure. There
were one or two other portraits, and a few pieces of silver upon a
mahogany buffet opposite the harpsichord—relics of Wakefield, the
Westmoreland plantation where George was born, and of which the
house had burned to the ground in the absence of the master, and
much of the household belongings had been destroyed.
The earl’s eyes lingered upon the girlish portrait of Madam
Washington as the two sat gravely conversing.
“It was thus you looked, madam, when I first had the honor of
knowing you in England,” he said.
“Time and sorrow and responsibilities have done their work upon me,
my lord,” answered Madam Washington. “The care of five children,
that they may be brought up to be worthy of their dead father, the
making of good men out of four boys, the task of bringing up an only
daughter to be a Christian gentlewoman, is no mean task, I assure
you, and taxes my humble powers.”
“True, madam,” responded the earl, with a low bow; “but I know of no
woman better fitted for so great an undertaking than Madam
Washington.”
Madam Washington leaned forward and bowed in response, and
then resumed her upright position, not once touching the back of her
chair.
“And may I not have the pleasure of seeing your children, madam?”
asked the earl, who cared little for children generally, but to whom
the children of her who had once been the beautiful Mary Ball were
of the greatest interest.
“Certainly, my lord,” answered Madam Washington, rising, “if you will
excuse me for a moment while I fetch them.”
The earl, left alone, rose and walked thoughtfully to the portrait of
Mary Ball and looked at it for several minutes. His face, full of
melancholy and weariness, grew more melancholy and weary. He
shook his head once or twice, and made a motion with his hand as if
putting something away from him, and then returned to his chair by
the fire. He looked into the blaze and tapped his foot softly with his
dress-sword. This beautiful, grave widow of forty, her heart wrapped
up in her children, was not the girl of eighteen years before. There
was no turning back of the leaves of the book of life for her. She had
room now for but one thought in her mind, one feeling in her heart—
her children.
Presently the door opened, and Madam Washington re-entered with
her usual sedate grace. Following her was a young girl of fourteen,
her mother’s image, the quaintest, daintiest little maiden imaginable,
her round, white arms bare to the elbow, from which muslin ruffles
fell back, a little muslin cap covering her hair, much lighter than her
mother’s, and her shy eyes fixed upon the floor. Behind her were
three sturdy, handsome boys of twelve, ten, and eight, as alike as
peas in a pod. In those days the children of gentlepeople were
neither pert and forward nor awkward and ashamed at meeting
strangers. Drilled in a precise etiquette, they knew exactly what to
do, which consisted chiefly in making many low bows to their elders,
and answering in respectful monosyllables such questions as were
asked them. They learned in this way a grace and courtesy quite
unknown to modern children.
“My daughter, Mistress Betty Washington, my Lord of Fairfax,” was
Madam Washington’s introduction.
The earl rose from his chair and made the little girl a bow as if she
were the princess royal, while Mistress Betty, scorning to be
outdone, courtesied to the floor in response, her full skirt making a
balloon as she sunk and rose in the most approved fashion.
“I am most happy to meet you, Mistress Betty,” said he, to which
Mistress Betty, in a quavering voice—for she had never before seen
an earl, or a coach like the one he came in—made answer:
“Thank you, my lord.”
The three boys were then introduced as Samuel, John, and Charles.
To each the earl made a polite bow, but not so low as to Mistress
Betty. The boys returned the bow without the slightest shyness or
awkwardness, and then took their places in silence behind their
mother’s chair. They exchanged keen glances, though, among
themselves, and wondered when they would be allowed to depart,
so that they might further investigate the coach and the four roan
horses. Madam Washington spoke.
“I am every moment expecting my eldest son George; he is out
hunting to-day, and said that he would return at this hour, and he is
always punctual to the minute. It will be a severe disappointment to
me if I should not have the pleasure of showing your lordship my
eldest son.”
It did not take a very acute person to note the tone of pride in
madam’s voice when she said “my eldest son.”
“It will be a disappointment to me also, madam,” replied the earl. “I
hope he is all that the eldest son of such a mother should be.”
Madam Washington smiled one of her rare smiles. “’Tis all I can do,
my lord, to keep down the spirit of pride, so unbecoming to all of us,
when I regard my son George. My other sons, I trust, will be as great
a comfort to me, but they are still of too tender years for me to
depend upon.” Then, turning to the three boys, she gave them a look
which meant permission to leave the room. The boys bowed gravely
to their mother, gravely to the earl, and walked more gravely out of
the room. Once the door was softly closed they made a quick but
noiseless dash for the back door, and were soon outside examining
the roans and the great coach, chattering like magpies to the negro
outriders, until having made the acquaintance of the old soldier,
Lance by name, they were soon hanging about him, begging that he
would tell them about a battle.
Meanwhile, within the sitting-room, Madam Washington heard a step
upon the uncarpeted stairs. A light came into her eyes as she spoke.
“There is my son now, going to his room. He will join us shortly. I
cannot tell you, my lord, how great a help I have in my son. As you
know, my step-son, Captain Laurence Washington, late of the British
army, since leaving his Majesty’s service and marrying Mistress
Anne Fairfax, has lived at the Hunting Creek place, which he has
called Mount Vernon, in honor of his old friend and comrade-in-arms,
Admiral Vernon. It is a good day’s journey from here, and although
Laurence is most kind and attentive, I have had to depend, since his
marriage, upon my son George to take his father’s place in the
conduct of my affairs and in my household. It is he who reads family
prayers night and morning and presides with dignity at the foot of my
table. It might seem strange to those who do not know his character
how much I rely upon his judgment, and he but fifteen. Even my
younger sons obey and respect him, and my daughter Betty does
hang upon her brother. ’Tis most sweet to see them together.” At
which Mistress Betty smiled and glanced at the earl, and saw so kind
a look in his eyes as he smiled back at her that she looked at him
quite boldly after that.
“It is most gratifying to hear of this, madam,” replied the earl; “but it is
hardly merciful of you to a childless old man, who would give many
worldly advantages had he but a son to lean upon in his old age.”
“You should have married twenty years ago, my lord,” answered
Madam Washington, promptly.
Something like a gleam of saturnine humor appeared in the earl’s
eyes at this, but he only replied, dryly, “Perhaps it is not wholly my
fault, madam, that I find myself alone in my old age.”
At that moment the door opened, and young Washington stood upon
the threshold.