William Wilfred Campbell - Mordred: Act III, Scene 5 lyrics

Enter MORDRED. MOR. Now cursed be the womb that gave me birth! Thrice cursed be the paps that gave me s**! That I, but made for hellish plots and hates, And inky thoughts and moods and black despairs, The most unhappy man in this dread world, Should house in me a dream of womanhood Such as doth dwell in all the milk-white glory And glamored stateliness of Arthur's Queen. Yea, would I now forego all I hold dear In this life and the next, if such there be; My chance of Heaven thrust to darkest Hell, One hour like Launcelot to know her love. Hell! Hell! I laugh at Hell! such flames I burn Would scorch the northern ice-seas in their beds, So deep a flame I hold me in my thoughts Of madness for her love.—Yea, I am turned A very subtle Satan that will plot High Arthur's downfall, Launcelot's banishment, And all the ruin of this present kingdom. Yea, I will be a king and perch a crown In its unsteady poisings on this brow, So that by very glamor of my power And inner majesty of mine iron soul, I build in her a fancy for my person. For I am Mordred; in this hour I'm great In subtle cunning far beyond these days Of mere brute strength and stature physical.— Yea, I was born upon an evil time Of evil parentage of sin and shame, Thrice cursèd in the inner soul and form. What sportive fate gave me the gifts I bear? But I am willed to use them to my use. Yea, I will use all deviltries and lies, All plots and counterplots, to gain mine end. This misbegotten now doth hold the key To this doomed kingdom. Enter VIVIEN. We are well met. Thou art upon the hour. The plot grows closer to our waited end. The net is weaving closer, mesh by mesh, That traps the leopard and the lioness. I have by long connivance, secret planned, Built round me many knights who hold my weal, Jealous of Launcelot and Arthur's glory. These will be with me when the stroke comes down. A thousand swords will leap their scabbard mouths At shout of Mordred! Yea, a thousand throats Will cry me king when my fate topples Arthur. VIV. Now art thyself, this be thy natural mood. Yea, Mordred, when thou kingest it, there will be A splendid thraldom to true kingliness. For thou wilt sink a terror in men's hearts Of king's prerogatives will make them fear The very sound and rumor of thy name; And there will go before thee waves of will Presaging thunders of thy royal coming. But wilt thou then, my lord, remember Vivien, When thou dost come unto thy royalty, Her who did place thy footsteps in the way That led thee to these gateways of success, And bade thee trample on thy youthful fears And doubts and milksop fancies of the mind, And gave into thy hand an iron mace, And bade thee use it? Wilt thou think on her, The only one who loved thee for thyself, The single soul that knew thee in the dark, And loved thee for thy nobler qualities? MOR. What wouldst thou have me promise? VIV. I would be a queen! MOR. Ha! thou climbest high! Be careful or thy stairway In toppling over carry thee to ruin. (aside) This be her trend! I must match cunning with cunning, And tie this serpent in her venomed coils. Were she a man I would admire her much, But not as woman! She be Mordred's queen, When queen of women there be one Guinevere! (to VIVIEN) When I am king thou wouldst then be the queen? 'Tis a daring thought! VIV. Not more than thou bearest, That Mordred, squat and monster, lorn, despised, Misgotten, friendless save to such as me, Should rise in dreams to heights of Arthur's glory, And even sigh to husband Guinevere. MOR. What now? Thou devil! VIV. Ha! Now I stabbed thy longings to the quick, And probed thine ink-heart.—Thou dost love the Queen, Thou, who dost dwell so far below her scorn! MOR. Witch-hag or devil! Wert thou but a man, And I would quickly send thee to that place Where thou belongest. VIV. Nay, I fear thee not. I am too much a part of all thy plans For thee to quarrel with. Stab me and thou stabbest The life of all thy longings. Let my blood, And with it flows the making of thy dreams. MOR. (aside) 'Tis as she says. She's woven in my web, And I must keep her, evil though she be. Yea, Mordred! Mordred! (to VIVIEN) Vivien, thou art hasty In dreaming Mordred would do thee an evil. 'Twas but the sudden mantling of the blood. Yea, I indeed do owe thee overmuch, And Mordred will pay thee with what gratitude Of words and acts as such as he possesses. Yea, when my mind dwells on the what I was, And that which I now am, an admiration Sudden and great comes o'er me at the change And the swift transformation thou hast made. Thou took'st a youth from out his sickly longings, Vague, undefined with musings on this world, And sick with evil of a shadowed fate, Dried up his kindness, showed him he was iron, And gave the keys of cruelty to his hand Wherewith to pick the lock of this poor kingdom. Yea, I am wrapped in admiration vast. Then I would shudder did an evil thought, Wandering vaguely through my caverned mind, But stop and grin me. Now it seems mine act Would neck and neck with Hell's most foul desire. Yea, thou hast right in pride of workmanship In building from material thou hadst So deft a moulded villain to thy hand. Yea, Vivien, fear not Mordred will forget, When every waking moment on his bed, And every devil knocking on his sill, Mindeth him of cause for gratitude. VIV. Wilt thou promise? MOR. Nay, I will never promise! What part have I with pledges in this world, Save pledge that I will topple all to ruin? This gave I Fate, as sure as I am Mordred. I tell thee, woman, I am thy slave no more, Nor slave to any, be it man or devil. VIV. What art thou then? MOR. I am thy master. Thou wilt be my slave, Thou cunning plotter, schemer to my hand, To be my dagger, poison, flaming brand, My very slave, convenience, creature, tool; And if thou art not, I'll trample, trample thee. I tell thee I will thrust this kingship out; Will spin these actors round my crooked thumb, Until this devil Mordred walketh king. Little didst dream what demon thou wert raising When thou didst conjure Mordred. VIV. Darest thou me? MOR. Yea, look into my gla** and ask thyself What Mordred hath in life to hope or fear? But I do tell thee, woman, Mordred in hell Will be no tortured creature spinning round, But himself the very devil. To show my power of evilment, I tell thee, I know thy fatal liking for myself. 'Tis the one part of thee that now can suffer, The only part of thee that holdeth good. VIV. Nay, I will not hearken! MOR. (seizes her wrist) I'll bind thee on the rack as thou hast me, Or, rather, finding me there, stretched my sorrows, And show thee all the fiend that thou hast roused. Then hear me: I do scorn that love of thine: Do trample on, despise, as I do thee! VIV. (falls on her face) Nay, Mordred, thou breakest my heart. Nay, curse me not. MOR. Yea, ask the rack for mercy when it racks, Or seek for honey in the aspick's sting! Yea, more, I tell thee plainly to thy face, Guinevere makes hell within my breast, And thou, my slave, wilt help me to her arms. VIV. One little smile, one little word of peace! MOR. Nay, silence, or a curse! Wilt thou do this? VIV. Thou knowest I will, let me but touch thy hand! Trampled on, despised, I love thee still. MOR. Now to the point: Launcelot goes this night To secret a**ignation with the Queen— This saving of her life hath patched their quarrel— And thou must find for me the hour of meeting, Must intercept the trusted messenger, And bring me secret knowledge of the time. I go now with some knights unto the King, To force his leave for this our undertaking, And put their secret love to open shame. Thou must watch near the apartments of the Queen, And take by fraud or force knowledge of the hour, And bring it to my ears with thy best speed. [Exit MORDRED. VIV. Yea, I will. He hath read true, I am his slave at last. Aye, what a splendid devil he doth make! There is no man like him in all this world. I'll see him crowned, climb he there o'er my body. CURTAIN.