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|Vortigern Studies > Vortigern > Art & Literature > Play 3 > Act 5, scene 4|
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SCENE IV. - THE GATE OF CAESAR'S TOWER.
Enter Lord and Troops.
In, in! for they do scar our very backs;
Give me another sword! I have so clogg'd,
Lord. Here, here, my noble lord!
As with their bloods I stain'd my reeking blade,
Lord. The troops are entered; please you follow them?
I love not to be shut in walls of flint:
Lord. Consider, my dear lord; think of your safety.
Must we not die? then, wherefore in a door,
Lord. Is it your pleasure, then, they shall proceed ?
Ay; e'en to it straight.
Aur. Villain and traitor! at thy word I take thee.
Ah! thy face the semblance of thy father's bears.
Aur. Thou perjur'd wretch! thou most abhorred villain!
Prate on, prate on: 'tis true, I merit this.
Alike, I do defy thy rage and threat.
Curse upon thee, thou grat'st my soul!
[They fight and pause.
Nay, stand aloof, and hear me yet awhile.
Aur. I will not.
'Twere better that thou didst, lest, waxing warm,
Aur. Come on; come on, I say!
[They fight; Vortigem is thrown to the ground.
Now, tyrant! now, I have thee in my power.
Dost think I'll blanch my face, and be a coward ?
Aur. Now, traitor! where's my father?
Aur. And by whom ?
Vor. Is not the crown thine own?
Aur. Ay; and is mine by right: then, speak, I say !
I will not, boy: hadst thou ten thousand voices,
Aur. Then die!
FLAVIA rushes forward.
0! stop, Aurelius! stay thy hand!
My daughter, here! then curse the tardy blow,
Fla. 0, mercy! on my knees I sue for mercy.
Vor. 'Twas I, 'twas I! this hand thy father murder'd.
Aur. And say'st thou this, e'en to my very face?
Ay, to thy face, and in thy ears I'll ring it,
Enter WORTIMERUS, CATAGRINUS, Soldiers, Lords, &c.
Wort. What! my father?
Aur. My Flavia, for thy sake, I grant him life.
Vor. In charity, then, I pray ye bear me hence I
Aur. Ay, lead him toward the Friars.
Vor. Yea, where ye list; but, take me from this sight.
[Vor is led out.
Aur. How speeds Edmunda ?
Wort. Her mind far better fares, yet is she feeble.
Aur. And of your father doth she e'er say aught ?
Wor. Yea, truly; but she haply thinks him dead.
Of all, the King hath truly made confession.
Hail to Aurelius,
to Aur. Vortigern on thee bestows our
Which thus I kiss; and, with the self-same breath,
All. All hail to Flavia, Queen of Britain.
Much, we confess, we owe to all here present;
" FOOL comes forward."
Methinks, but now I heard some gentles say,
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