No More Learning

_ My dearest lord!
Was my soul blind; and could not that look out,
To know you, ere you spoke? Oh counterpart
Of our soft sex! Well are you made our lords;
So bold, so great, so godlike are you formed!
How can you love such silly things as women?

_Arth. _ Beauty like yours commands; and man was made
But a more boisterous, and a stronger slave,
To you, the best delights of human kind.

_Em. _ But are you mine? Is there an end of war?
Are all those trumpets dead themselves, at last,
That used to kill men with their thundering sounds?

_Arth. _ The sum of war is undecided yet;
And many a breathing body must be cold,
Ere you are free.

_Em. _ How came you hither then?

_Arth. _ By Merlin's art, to snatch a short-lived bliss;
To feed my famished love upon your eyes
One moment, and depart.

_Em. _ O moment, worth
Whole ages past, and all that are to come!
Let love-sick Oswald now unpitied mourn;
Let Osmond mutter charms to sprites in vain,
To make me love him; all shall not change my soul.

_Arth. _ Ha! Does the enchanter practise hell upon you?
Is he my rival too?

_Em. _ Yes, but I hate him;
For, when he spoke, through my shut eyes I saw him;
His voice look'd ugly, and breathed brimstone on me;
And then I first was glad that I was blind,
Not to behold damnation.

_Phil. _ This time is left me to congratulate
Your new-born eyes; and tell you what you gain
By sight restored, and viewing him you love. --
Appear, ye airy forms!

[_Airy Spirits appear in the shapes of Men and Women. _
Man sings. _Oh sight, the mother of desires,
What charming objects dost thou yield!
'Tis sweet, when tedious night expires,
To see the rosy morning gild
The mountain-tops, and paint the field!
But when Clarinda comes in sight,
She makes the summer's day more bright;
And when she goes away, 'tis night. _

Chor. _When fair Clarinda comes in sight, &c. _

Wom. sings. _'Tis sweet the blushing morn to view;
And plains adorned with pearly dew:_
_But such cheap delights to see,
Heaven and nature
Give each creature;
They have eyes, as well as we;
This is the joy, all joys above,
To see, to see,
That only she,
That only she we love! _

Chor. _This is the joy, all joys above, &c. _

Man sings. _And if we may discover
What charms both nymph and lover,
'Tis, when the fair at mercy lies,
With kind and amorous anguish,
To sigh, to look, to languish,
On each other's eyes! _

Chorus of all Men and Women.
_And if we may discover, &c. _

_Phil. _ Break off your music, for our foes are near.
[_Spirits vanish. _

_Enter_ MERLIN.

_Merl. _ My sovereign, we have hazarded too far;
But love excuses you, and prescience me:
Make haste, for Osmond is even now alarmed,
And, greedy of revenge, is hasting home.

_Arth. _ Oh! take my love with us, or leave me here.

_Merl. _ I cannot, for she's held by charms too strong,
Which, with the enchanted grove, must be destroyed;
Till when, my art is vain:--But fear not, Emmeline,
The enchanter has no power on innocence.

_Em. _ [_To Arth. _] Farewell, since we must part: When you are gone,
I'll look into my glass, just where you looked.
To find your face again;
If 'tis not there, I'll think on you so long,
My heart shall make your picture for my eyes.

_Arth. _ Where'er I go, my soul shall stay with thee;
'Tis but my shadow that I take away.
True love is never happy but by halves;
An April sunshine, that by fits appears,
It smiles by moments, but it mourns by years.
[_Exeunt_ ARTHUR _and_ MERLIN _at one door_.

_Enter_ OSMOND _at the other door, who gazes on_ EMMELINE, _and she
on him_.

_Em. _ Matilda, save me from this ugly thing,
This foe to sight: speak; dost thou know him?

_Mat. _ Too well; 'tis Oswald's friend, the great magician.

_Em. _ It cannot be a man, he's so unlike the man I love.

_Osm. _ [_Aside. _] Death to my eyes, she sees!

_Em. _ I wish I could not; but I'll close my sight,
And shut out all I can. ----It will not be;
Winking, I see thee still; thy odious image
Stares full into my soul, and there infects the room,
My Arthur should possess.

_Osm. _ [_Aside. _] I find too late,
That Merlin and her lover have been here.
If I was fired before, when she was blind,
Her eyes dart lightning now; she must be mine.

_Em. _ I pr'ythee, dreadful thing, tell me thy business here,
And, if thou canst, reform that odious face;
Look not so grim upon me.

_Osm. _ My name is Osmond, and my business love.

_Em. _ Thou hast a grisly look,--forbidding what thou askest,
If I durst tell thee so.

_Osm. _ My pent-house eye-brows, and my shaggy beard,
Offend your sight, but these are manly signs;
Faint white and red abuse your expectations:
Be woman; know your sex, and love full pleasures.

_Em. _ Love from a monster, fiend?

_Osm. _ Come, you must love, or you must suffer love;
No coyness, none, for I am master here.

_Em. _ And when did Oswald give away his power,
That thou presum'st to rule? Be sure I'll tell him;
For, as I am his prisoner, he is mine.

_Osm. _ Why then, thou art a captive to a captive.
O'er-laboured with the fight, opprest with thirst,
That Oswald, whom you mentioned, called for drink:
I mixt a sleepy potion in his bowl,
Which he and his fool friend quaffed greedily:
The happy dose wrought the desired effect;
Then to a dungeon's depth I sent both bound;
Where, stowed with snakes and adders, now they lodge,
Two planks their beds, slippery with ooze and slime:
The rats brush o'er their faces with their tails,
And croaking paddocks crawl upon their limbs;
Since when the garrison depends on me.
Now know you are my slave.

_Mat. _ He strikes a horror through my blood.

_Em. _ I freeze, as if his impious art had fixed
My feet to earth.

_Osm. _ But love shall thaw ye.
I'll show his force in countries caked with ice,
Where the pale pole-star in the north of heaven
Sits high, and on the frosty winter broods,--
Yet there love reigns: For proof, this magic wand
Shall change the mildness of sweet Britain's clime
To Iceland, and the farthest Thule's frost,
Where the proud god, disdaining winter's bounds,
O'erleaps the fences of eternal snow,
And with his warmth supplies the distant sun.

OSMOND _strikes the Ground with his Wand: The Scene changes to a
Prospect of Winter in Frozen Countries_.

CUPID _descends_.

Cup. } _What ho, thou Genius of the Clime, what ho! _
sings. } _Ly'st thou asleep beneath those hills of snow?
Stretch out thy lazy limbs; awake, awake,
And winter from thy furry mantle shake. _

GENIUS Arises.

Genius. _What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise, unwillingly, and slow,
From beds of everlasting snow?
See'st thou not how stiff and wond'rous old,
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold?
I can scarcely move, or draw my breath;
Let me, let me, freeze again to death. _

Cupid. _Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear;
What, dost thou dream of freezing here?
At Love's appearing, all the sky clearing,
The stormy winds their fury spare:
Winter subduing, and spring renewing,
My beams create a more glorious year.
Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear,
What! dost thou dream of freezing here? _

Genius. _Great Love, I know thee now;
Eldest of the gods art thou
Heaven and earth by thee were made;
Human nature
Is thy creature,
Every where thou art obeyed. _

Cupid. _No part of my dominion shall be waste;
To spread my sway, and sing my praise,
Even here I will a people raise,
Of kind embracing lovers, and embraced. _

Cupid waves his Wand, upon which the Scene opens, and discovers a
prospect of Ice and Snow to the end of the Stage.

Singers and Dancers, Men and Women, appear.

Man. _See, see, we assemble,
Thy revels to hold;
Though quiv'ring with cold,
We chatter and tremble. _

Cupid. _'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have warmed ye:
In spite of cold weather,
I've brought you together:
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have armed ye. _

Chor. _'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love, that has warmed us;
In spite of cold weather
He brought us together:
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love, that has armed us. _

Cupid. _Sound a parley, ye fair, and surrender;
Set yourselves and your lovers at ease;
He's a grateful offender
Who pleasure dare seize;
But the whining pretender
Is sure to displease. _


II.

_Since the fruit of desire is possessing,
'Tis unmanly to sigh and complain;
When we kneel for redressing,
We move your disdain:_
_Love was made for a blessing,
And not for a pain. _

A Dance; after which the Singers and Dancers depart.

_Em. _ I could be pleased with any one but thee,
Who entertained my sight with such gay shows,
As men and women moving here and there,
That, coursing one another in their steps,
Have made their feet a tune.

_Osm. _ What, coying it again!
No more, but make me happy to my gust,
That is, without your struggling.

_Em. _ From my sight,
Thou all thy devils in one! thou dar'st not force me.

_Osm. _ You teach me well; I find you would be ravished.
I'll give you that excuse your sex desires.
[_He begins to lay hold on her, and they struggle. _

_Grim. _ [_Within. _] O help me, master, help me!

_Osm. _ Who's that? my Grimbald? Come and help thou me;
For 'tis thy work to assist a ravisher.

_Grim. _ [_Within. _] I cannot stir; I am spell-caught by Philidel,
And pursed within a net,
With a huge heavy weight of holy words
Laid on my head, that keeps me down from rising.

_Osm. _ I'll read them backwards and release thy bonds. --
Mean time go in,
[_To_ EMMELINE.
Prepare yourself, and ease my drudgery:
But if you will not fairly be enjoyed,
A little honest force is well employed.
[_Exit_ OSMOND.

_Em. _ Heaven be my guard, I have no other friend!
Heaven, ever present to thy suppliant's aid,
Protect and pity innocence betrayed!
[_Exeunt_ EMMELINE _and_ MATILDA.




ACT IV. SCENE I.


_Enter_ OSMOND.

Now I am settled in my forceful sway;
Why then, I'll be luxurious in my love;
Take my full gust, and, setting forms aside,
I'll bid the slave, that fires my blood, lie down.
[_Seems to be going off. _

_Enter_ GRIMBALD, _who meets him_.

_Grim. _ Not so fast, master, danger threatens thee:
There's a black cloud descending from above,
Full of heaven's venom, bursting o'er thy head.

_Osm. _ Malicious fiend, thou liest; for I am fenced
By millions of thy fellows, in my grove.
I bade thee, when I freed thee from the charm,
Run scouting through the wood, from tree to tree,
And look if all my devils were on duty:
Had'st thou performed thy charge, thou tardy sprite,
Thou would'st have known no danger threatened me.

_Grim. _ When did a devil fail in diligence?
Poor mortal, thou thyself art overseen.
I have been there, and thence I bring this news,--
Thy fatal foe, great Arthur, is at hand;
Merlin has taken his time, when thou wert absent,
To observe thy characters, their force, and nature,
And counterwork thy spells.

_Osm. _ The devil take Merlin!
I'll cast them all a-new, and instantly,
All of another mould; be thou at hand.
Their composition was, before, of horror;
Now they shall be of blandishment, and love,
Seducing hopes, soft pity, tender moans:
Art shall meet art; and, when they think to win,
The fools shall find their labour to begin.
[_Exeunt_ OSM. _and_ GRIMB.

_Enter_ ARTHUR, _and_ MERLIN _at another Door.
Scene of the Wood continues. _

_Merl. _ Thus far it is permitted me to go;
But all beyond this spot is fenced with charms;
I may no more, but only with advice.

_Arth. _ My sword shall do the rest.

_Merl.
_ Remember well, that all is but illusion.
Go on; good stars attend thee.

_Arth. _ Doubt me not.

_Merl. _ Yet, in prevention
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel
To watch thy steps, and with him leave my wand;
The touch of which no earthy fiend can bear,
In whate'er shape transformed, but must lay down
His borrowed figure, and confess the devil.
Once more farewell, and prosper. [_Exit_ MERLIN.

_Arth. _ [_walking. _] No danger yet; I see no walls of fire,
No city of the fiends, with forms obscene,
To grin from far on flaming battlements.
This is indeed the grove I should destroy;
But where's the horror? sure the prophet erred. --
Hark! music, and the warbling notes of birds! [_Soft Music. _
Hell entertains me, like some welcome guest. --
More wonders yet! yet all delightful too:
A silver current to forbid my passage,
And yet, to invite me, stands a golden bridge:
Perhaps a trap for my unwary feet,
To sink and whelm me underneath the waves.
With fire or water let him wage his war,
Or all the elements at once, I'll on.

[_As he is going to the Bridge, two Syrens arise from the water.
They shew themselves to the waist, and sing:_

1 Syren. _O pass not on, but stay,
And waste the joyous day
With us in gentle play:
Unbend to love, unbend thee:
O lay thy sword aside,
And other arms provide;
For other wars attend thee,
And sweeter to be tried. _

Chor. _For other wars_, &c.

Both sing. _Two daughters of this aged stream are we;
And both our sea-green locks have comb'd for thee:
Come bathe with us an hour or two,
Come naked in, for we are so;
What danger from a naked foe?
Come bathe with us, come bathe and share
What pleasures in the floods appear.
We'll beat the waters till they bound,
And circle, round, around, around,
And circle round, around. _

_Arth. _ A lazy pleasure trickles through my veins;
Here could I stay, and well be cozened here.
But honour calls;--is honour in such haste?
Can it not bait at such a pleasing inn?
No; for, the more I look, the more I long. --
Farewell, ye fair illusions! I must leave ye,
While I have power to say, that I must leave ye.
Farewell! with half my soul I stagger off,--
How dear this flying victory has cost,
When, if I stay to struggle, I am lost.

_As he is going forward, Nymphs and Sylvans come out from behind
the Trees. A Bass and two Trebles sing the following Song to a
Minuet. _

Dance with a Song, all with Branches in their Hands.

Song. _How happy the lover,
How easy his chain,
How pleasing his pain,
How sweet to discover
He sighs not in vain.
For love every creature
Is formed by his nature;
No joys are above
The pleasures of love. _

The Dance continues, with the same measure played alone.


II.

_In vain are our graces,
In vain are your eyes,
If love you despise;
When age furrows faces,
'Tis time to be wise.
Then use the short blessing,
That flies in possessing:
No joys are above
The pleasures of love. _

_Arth. _ And what are the fantastic fairy joys,
To love like mine? false joys, false welcomes all.
Be gone, ye Sylvan trippers of the green;
Fly after night, and overtake the moon.
[_Here the Dancers, Singers, and Syrens vanish. _
This goodly tree seems queen of all the grove.
The ringlets round her trunk declare her guilty
Of many midnight-sabbaths revelled here.
Her will I first attempt.

[ARTHUR _strikes at the Tree, and cuts it; Blood spouts out of it;
a groan follows, then a shriek_.

Good heavens, what monstrous prodigies are these!
Blood follows from my blow; the wounded rind
Spouts on my sword, and sanguine dies the plain.
[_He strikes again: The Voice of_ EMMELINE _from behind_.

Em. [_from behind. _] Forbear, if thou hast pity, ah, forbear!
These groans proceed not from a senseless plant;
No spouts of blood run welling from a tree.

_Arth. _ Speak what thou art; I charge thee, speak thy being,
Thou, that hast made my curdled blood run back,
My heart heave up, my hair to rise in bristles,
And scarcely left a voice to ask thy name!
[EMMEL. _breaks out of the Tree, shewing her Arm bloody_.

_Em. _ Whom thou hast hurt, unkind and cruel, see;
Look on this blood; 'tis fatal still to me,
To bear thy wounds; my heart has felt them first.

_Arth. _ 'Tis she; amazement roots me to the ground!

_Em. _ By cruel charms dragged from my peaceful bower,
Fierce Osmond closed me in this bleeding bark,
And bid me stand exposed to the bleak winds,
And winter storms, and heaven's inclemency,
Bound to the fate of this hell-haunted grove;
So that whatever sword, or sounding axe,
Shall violate this plant, must pierce my flesh,
And, when that falls, I die.

_Arth. _ If this be true,
O never, never-to-be-ended charm,
At least by me! --yet all may be illusion.
Break up, ye thickening fogs, and filmy mists,
All that belie my sight, and cheat my sense!
For reason still pronounces, 'tis not she,
And, thus resolved,--
[_Lifts up his sword, as going to strike. _

_Em. _ Do, strike, barbarian, strike;
And strew my mangled limbs, with every stroke.
Wound me, and doubly kill me, with unkindness,
That by thy hand I fell.

_Arth. _ What shall I do, ye powers?

_Em. _ Lay down thy vengeful sword; 'tis fatal here:
What need of arms, where no defence is made?
A love-sick virgin, panting with desire,
No conscious eye to intrude on our delights:
For this thou hast the Syrens' songs despised;
For this, thy faithful passion I reward.
Haste then, to take me longing to thy arms.

_Arth. _ O love! O Merlin! whom should I believe?

_Em. _ Believe thyself, thy youth, thy love, and me;
They, only they, who please themselves, are wise.
Disarm thy hand, that mine may meet it bare.

_Arth. _ By thy leave, reason, here I throw thee off,
Thou load of life. If thou wert made for souls,
Then souls should have been made without their bodies.
If falling for the first created fair
Was Adam's fault,--great grandsire, I forgive thee;
Eden was lost, as all thy sons would lose it.
[_Going towards_ EMM.
_and pulling off his Gauntlet_.

_Enter_ PHILIDEL _running_.

_Phil. _ Hold, poor deluded mortal, hold thy hand,
Which, if thou giv'st, is plighted to a fiend.
For proof, behold the virtue of this wand;
The infernal paint shall vanish from her face,
And hell shall stand revealed.

_Strikes_ EMMELINE _with a Wand, who straight descends_: PHILIDEL
_runs to the Descent, and pulls up_ GRIMBALD _and binds him_.

Now see to whose embraces thou wert falling!
Behold the maiden modesty of Grimbald!
The grossest, earthiest, ugliest fiend in hell.

_Arth. _ Horror seizes me,
To think what headlong ruin I have tempted.

_Phil. _ Haste to thy work; a noble stroke or two
Ends all the charms, and disenchants the grove.
I'll hold thy mistress bound.

_Arth. _ Then here's for earnest.

[_Strikes twice or thrice, and the Tree falls, or sinks: A Peal of
Thunder immediately follows, with dreadful Howlings. _

'Tis finished, and the dusk, that yet remains,
Is but the native horror of the wood.
But I must lose no time; the pass is free;
The unroosted fiends have quitted this abode.
On yon proud towers, before this day be done,
My glittering banners shall be waved against the setting sun.
[_Exit_ ARTHUR.

_Phil. _ Come on, my surly slave; come stalk along,
And stamp a madman's pace, and drag thy chain.

_Grim. _ I'll champ and foam upon it, till the blue venom
Work upward to thy hands, and loose their hold.

_Phil. _ Know'st thou this powerful wand? 'tis lifted up;
A second stroke would send thee to the centre,
Benumbed and dead, as far as souls can die.

_Grim. _ I would thou would'st, to rid me of my sense:
I shall be whooped through hell, at my return
Inglorious from the mischief I designed.

_Phil. _ And therefore, since thou loath'st etherial light,
The morning sun shall beat on thy black brows;
The breath thou draw'st shall be of upper air,
Hostile to thee, and to thy earthy make;
So light, so thin, that thou shalt starve for want
Of thy gross food, till gasping thou shalt lie,
And blow it back all sooty to the sky.
[_Exit_ PHILIDEL, _dragging_ GRIMBALD _after him_.




ACT V. SCENE I.


_Enter_ OSMOND, _as affrighted_.

_Osm. _ Grimbald made prisoner, and my grove destroyed!
Now what can save me----Hark, the drums and trumpets!
[_Drums and Trumpets within. _
Arthur is marching onward to the fort.
I have but one recourse, and that's to Oswald;--
But will he fight for me, whom I have injured?
No, not for me, but for himself he must.
I'll urge him with the last necessity;
Better give up my mistress than my life.
His force is much unequal to his rival;--
True; but I'll help him with my utmost art,
And try to unravel fate. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ ARTHUR, CONON, AURELIUS, ALBANACT, _and Soldiers_.

_Con. _ Now there remains but this one labour more;
And, if we have the hearts of true-born Britons,
The forcing of the castle crowns the day.

_Aur. _ The works are weak, the garrison but thin,
Dispirited with frequent overthrows,
Already wavering on their ill-manned walls.

_Alb. _ They shift their places oft, and sculk from war;
Sure signs of pale despair, and easy rout:
It shews they place their confidence in magic,
And, when their devils fail, their hearts are dead.

_Arth. _ Then, where you see them clustering most in motion,
And staggering in their ranks, there press them home;
For that's a coward heap. --How's this, a sally?

_Enter_ OSWALD, GUILLAMAR, _and Soldiers on the other side_.

Beyond my hopes, to meet them on the square.

_Osw. _ Brave Britons, hold; and thou, their famous chief,
[_Advancing. _
Attend what Saxon Oswald will propose.
He owns your victory; but whether owing
To valour, or to fortune, that he doubts.
If Arthur dares ascribe it to the first,
And, singled from a crowd, will tempt a conquest,
This Oswald offers; let our troops retire,
And hand to hand let us decide our strife:
This if refused, bear witness, earth and heaven,
Thou steal'st a crown and mistress undeserved.

_Arth. _ I'll not usurp thy title of a robber,
Nor will upbraid thee, that before I proffered
This single combat, which thou didst avoid;
So glad I am, on any terms to meet thee,
And not discourage thy repenting shame.
As once Æneas, my famed ancestor,
Betwixt the Trojan and Rutilian bands,
Fought for a crown, and bright Lavinia's bed,
So will I meet thee, hand to hand opposed:
My auguring mind assures the same success. --
[_To his Men. _] Hence, out of view; If I am slain, or yield,
Renounce me, Britons, for a recreant knight;
And let the Saxon peacefully enjoy
His former footing on our famous isle.
To ratify these terms, I swear----

_Osw. _ You need not;
Your honour is of force, without your oath.
I only add, that, if I fall, or yield,
Yours be the crown, and Emmeline.

_Arth_. That's two crowns.
No more; we keep the looking heavens and sun
Too long in expectation of our arms.
[_Both Armies go off the Stage. _

[_They fight with Spunges in their Hands, dipt in blood: after
some equal passes and closing, they appear both wounded_; ARTHUR
_stumbles among the Trees_, OSWALD _falls over him; they both
rise_; ARTHUR _wounds him again, then_ OSWALD _retreats. Enter_
OSMOND, _from among the Trees, and with his Wand strikes_ ARTHUR'S
_Sword out of his Hand, and exit_. OSWALD _pursues_ ARTHUR. MERLIN
_enters, and gives_ ARTHUR _his Sword, and exit; they close, and_
ARTHUR, _in the Fall, disarms_ OSWALD. [22]

_Arth_. Confess thyself o'ercome, and ask thy life.

_Osw_. 'Tis not worth asking, when 'tis in thy power.

_Arth_. Then take it as my gift.

_Osw_. A wretched gift,
With loss of empire, liberty, and love.

[_A concert of Trumpets within, proclaiming_ ARTHUR'S _Victory;
while they sound_, ARTHUR _and_ OSWALD _seem to confer_.

'Tis too much bounty to a vanquished foe;
Yet not enough to make me fortunate.

_Arth_. Thy life, thy liberty, thy honour safe,
Lead back thy Saxons to their ancient Elbe:
I would restore thee fruitful Kent, the gift
Of Vortigern for Hengist's ill-bought aid,
But that my Britons brook no foreign power,
To lord it in a land, sacred to freedom,
And of its rights tenacious to the last.

_Osw. _ Nor more than thou hast offered would I take;
I would refuse all Britain, held in homage;
And own no other masters but the gods.

_Enter, on one side_, MERLIN, EMMELINE, _and_ MATILDA. CONON,
AURELIUS, ALBANACT, _with British Soldiers, bearing King_ ARTHUR'S
_Standard displayed. On the other side_, GUILLAMAR, _and_ OSMOND,
_with Saxon Soldiers, dragging their Colours on the Ground_.

[ARTH. _going to_ EMM. _and embracing her_.
_Arth. _ At length, at length, I have thee in my arms;
Though our malevolent stars have struggled hard,
And held us long asunder.