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161

Scene III.

—Derby.
Edwin and Athulf.
Athulf.
With patience we shall prosper. That alone
Is wanting to us now.

Edwin.
Nay, do not chide.
I have been patient, Athulf, in my cell;
Patient of wrongs and cruelties and threats,
Sickness and imminent death; but this is worse;
To be at large, and yet be checked and curbed,
When now my wife's deliverance only waits
On my advance.

Athulf.
With measured speed we pass
To an assured result; with hurried steps
We should but bring the shadow of a host
To issues that would then be full of doubt.
Our marches are too hasty, and the force
Begins to break. Pause, I beseech you.

Edwin.
Well;
You are a soldier tried in many a field;
And I am but a King. Have, then, your way.

Athulf.
So please you, then, pass onward to the front,
Whilst I hang back and gather up the rear.