1. Lo, here the end that fortune sends at last To him, whom first she heav’d to highest hap! The flattering look, wherewith he long was led; The smiling fates, that oft had fed his fame, The many wars and conquests which he gain’d, Are dash’d at once: one day infers that foil, Whereof so many years of yore were free.
2. O willing world to magnify man’s state! O most unwilling to maintain the same! Of all misfortunes and unhappy fates Th’ unhappiest seems to have been happy once.[282] ’Twas Arthur sole, that never found his joys Disturb’d with woe, nor woes reliev’d with joy. In prosperous state all heavenly pow’rs aspir’d; Now, made a wretch, not one that spares his spoil!
3. Yea, fortune’s self in this afflicted case Exacts a pain for long-continued pomp. She urgeth now the bliss of wonted weal, And bears him down with weight of former fame. His praises past be present shame. O fickle trust, Whiles fortune chops and changeth every chance, What certain bliss can we enjoy alive, Unless, whiles yet our bliss endures, we die?
4. Yea, since before his last and utmost gasp, None can be deem’d a happy man or bless’d, Who dares commit himself to prosperous fates, Whose death prepar’d attends not hard at hand: That sithence death must once determine all, His life may sooner fly, than fortune flit.
GORLOIS. Now, Gorlois, ’suage thyself. Pride hath his pay, Murther his price, adult’ry his desert, Treason his meed, disloyalty his doom, Wrong hath his wreak, and guilt his guerdon bears! Not one abuse erst offered by thy foes, But, since most sternly punish’d, is now purg’d. Where thou didst fall, ev’n on the self-same soil, Pendragon, Arthur, Mordred, and their stock Found all their foils: not one hath ’scaped revenge; Their line from first to last quite razed out! Now rest content, and work no further plagues: Let future age be free from Gorlois’ ghost: Let Britain henceforth bathe in endless weal. Let Virgo come from heaven, the glorious star, The Zodiac’s joy, the planets’ chief delight, The hope of all the year, the ease of skies, The air’s relief, the comfort of the earth! That virtuous Virgo, born for Britain’s bliss; That peerless branch of Brute; that sweet remain Of Priam’s state; that hope of springing Troy, Which, time to come and many ages hence, Shall of all wars compound eternal peace. Let her reduce the golden age again, Religion, ease, and wealth of former world. Yea, let that Virgo come, and Saturn’s reign,[283] And years, oft ten times told, expir’d in peace. A rule that else no realm shall ever find, A rule most rare, unheard, unseen, unread; The sole example that the world affords. That (Britain), that renowm, yea, that is thine. B’ it so: my wrath is wrought. Ye furies black And ugly shapes, that howl in holes beneath: Thou Orcus dark, and deep Avernus nook, With duskish dens out-gnawn in gulfs below, Receive your ghastly charge, Duke Gorlois’ ghost! Make room! I gladly, thus reveng’d, return! And though your pain surpass, I greet them tho! He hates each other heaven, that haunteth hell. [_Descendit._