University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

Malmesbury. The Orchard.
Enter Edmund and Elgiva.
Edmund.
Elgiva, I am come for you, my wife.
Kiss me! You come out in the orchard, sweet,
Lest envious nuns should leer at our encounter,
As the unclean at innocence. That woman
Who can bear witness of a stolen kiss
I would abandon to the rosary's
Perpetual toil; but who should brag of lovers,
New-mating lovers, as we twain, should never
Look on the sun again. Dear, we are free;
It is the summer morning of our love;
And now my little, flushing, English rose
Can open all the treasures of her breast
To the benignant air. Give me your lips.

Elgiva.
I will not, Edmund; in my very sight
My lord was basely murdered. There he sat
Haughty and awkward, my great, trustful Dane,
At Edric's board. I noted that the princess
Was pale, she twitched her hand, she beckoned me
Aside, and looking up, I saw the room
Full of armed men, my husband in the midst,
Astonished, fighting with tremendous fists,
The lady pressed me to her bosom close
To hide me from the slaughter, but I broke
Away, and climbing to the casement saw
The chapel blazing where the hunted guests
Had fled for sanctuary. It is reported
That Edric is the Atheling's counsellor,
Edric—the lying tongue, the false, false lip.
I am an Englishwoman, and I cherish
My country to this plot of orchard-ground:
I would not cede an inch of English earth,
No, nor the seas, they should be English too,
With cities of strong ships. And I would love
The line of Cerdic; but I must abhor
The fitful, shifty, dismal, obstinate,
Untoward Ethelred, who damps the hopes
Of his stout, rallying subjects, who at Council,
Where men should meet for justice, planned the murder
Of my great Danish earl: and if his son
Knew of the vile intent—O Edmund, Edmund!

Edmund
[walking apart].
Arraigned a traitor by the girl I love,
I cannot speak. I will return to her
When the last Dane is driven to his ship.
And yet, without her woman's faith, I go
Unharnessed to the field.
[Approaching her.]
Then you dismiss me,
Uncomforted, to raise an English band,
That will grow sullen, and refuse to fight,
As you refuse to love, because I bear
The name of Ethelred the Redeless' son?
Yet, lady, you have seen me in the midst
Of strong temptation play no miscreant's part.
That day you looked up from your wedding-veil,
I knew I was beloved. A deadly wrench!
I saw you yielded to the Danish earl,
Your precious body, the pure maidenhood,
I would have crowned with queenship, and I swore
Never again to look upon your face;
I banished you my heart's realm, nor revoked
The sentence, till this day a messenger
Told of your husband's death, and how you fled
To seek protection in these holy walls.

Elgiva.
O Edmund, my great lover, my dear prince,
Speak to me, pardon me, ask o'er again
For what you asked.

Edmund.
Give me those honest eyes,
Where there is nothing hidden. What a mirror!
Love, I would look down in the golden depths,
And find reflection.

Elgiva.
Dearest heart, believe,
As in the orchard every part o' the tree
Is apple, from the blossom to the drooping
O' the rosy, laden branches,—you will find
No part of me, my first, girlish joy
In your young, royal face, that is not worship.
Give me the freedom of your brow, my kisses
Long to set record there.

Edmund.
The lips, the lips!
[passionately kissing her.]
Elgiva, we are lord and lady here
I' the flecking sunlight; but Canute would rend
Our England from us.

Elgiva.
He shall be repulsed;
For I have great possessions, and have suffered
To see my goodly acres in the hands
Of a sea-farer and a foreigner.

Edmund.
Heir to your husband's confiscated fiefs—
Then I will seek my father, and demand
The lordships.

Elgiva.
Edmund, let them be my gift;
Exact no rights. Why should men force a boon,
Grasp masterful, and take from us our joy—
To give, to give? My lands are yours for ever,
Yours with their wealth of stalwart fighting-men,
Yours for the muster, for the battlefield,
The bloodshed, and the triumph; yours at last
For pasture, blessèd as this golden sward,
When you are England's king.

[Enter messenger.]
Edmund.
A messenger!

Elgiva.
And from his aspect I believe he bears
Some weighty news.
[Edmund meets the messenger. They converse apart.]
To lie down on the grass,
Look up to him, and feel he is my own!
His face grows solemn, and a majesty
Darkens his quiet eyes.

[Exit messenger.]
Edmund.
King Ethelred
Hath died in London. My true-hearted city,
Thee I possess; but of my ravaged kingdom
What part beside? The bishops, aldermen,
Are all without the walls, and will elect
The valiant young Dane who rules the north,
And 'gainst the stronghold of our English life
Presses his splendid fleet.

Elgiva.
But you are king;
Shire will help shire now you are in command,
And render you their services as freely
As I confer my love; for I am England,
Who, when I doubted, would have none of you,
Who pleaded that the Dane had qualities
Meet for men's reverence; and rally now
All native forces in me to proclaim
Edmund my lord. Oh, there are faithful souls;
Trust in your people, give your heart to them,
And put for ever from your side the churl,
False-speaking Edric.

Edmund.
Let him come and go;
He is ill-governed. Doubtless he fulfilled,
Murdering the Danish earl, some infamous
Plot of my father's. I shall treat him well;
The reign of vile suspicion is at end,
And honour to the fore.

Elgiva.
O happy country!
I never saw this level orchard-ground
So full of gleams and shades. I am right glad
That you made love beneath the apple-trees;
They are so English, and their rosy fruit
Is plucked in tranquil, happy, autumn days,
Such as our Edmund will restore to us,
When the great wars are ended. A sweet spot!

[Exeunt.]