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  Vortigern Studies > Vortigern > Art & Literature > Play 3 > Act 4, scene 9

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SCENE IX.

Enter the Saxon and British Annies; they fight, and the
Saxons are routed.

Enter HENGIST and Officer.

Heng. All, all is lost! Fly, fly, to the king's tent!
Bid him to London speedily repair.
Away, away! tarry not, on your life.
A curse upon his sons for quitting us!
Should they but follow up this victory,
My hope, my every wish, for over's blighted.

Enter WORTIMERUS.

Heng. Vile traitor to your liege King and your Sire!
What blasted fiend, blacker than hell itself,
Could prompt thee to this damned treachery ?

Wort. Canst thou, base Saxon! thou, base braggart,
ask it?
Tis thou, and on thy soul, I'll prove it so.

Heng. Ask where's thy queen, and then I'll answer thee!

Wort. Dares thus thy tongue, with notes unmannerly,
My heart-strings tear asunder? Fiend, have at thee!

[They fight, Hengist falls.

Heng. Thine hand be wither'd for this fatal blow.
And must, then, all my hopes lie buried here?

Wort. Yea; and thou need'st not much of Kent's domain;
A little mole-hill now will serve.

Heng. Yet, chance one lives, that may avenge this deed.
'Tis the brave Horsus, 'tis my noble friend !

Wort. He fought his last.
On him were found the secrets of thy plot.
Wouldst thou not have enthrall'd my countrymen ?
Was not thy daughter to have basely poison'd
Her king, and husband? and, then, wert not thou
To have seiz'd the crown? 0! villain, villain! traitor!

Heng. Yea; all, had I but liv'd a little longer.
Hell, swallow me not up! nor ope thy jaws
So wide. The fiends do tug, and strain my heart-strings!
They burst, they crack! - Oh! curs'd ambition! Oh! [Dies.

Enter CATAGRINUS.

Cata. All, all is ours: the ranks are broken!
They fly before us; come, let's follow them.
Good heav'ns! who's this ? [Looking to the body of Hengut.

Wort. Hengist himself.

Cata. And was it thou didst slay the monster fell ?

Wort. Ay, marry; but he fought, indeed, like one
That begg'd a little time to save his soul.

Cata. Our father hath towards London ta'en his flight:
But yet, Rowena is our prisoner.

Wort. That's well, indeed: come, let us on, and join them.

[Exeunt.

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