 | Edwin the Fair |  |
Scene VII.
—A Forest.The King, Athulf and Leolf, the Chancellor Clarenbald, the Bishop of Rochester, and divers Earls and Thanes.
Clarenbald.
To this then cleaving, let us bind ourselves
By oath: so having in our hearts the will,
There shall the conscience clench it. My Lord Bishop
The oath administers.
Leolf.
This tree supplies
The sacred symbol.
[Breaks two twigs from a tree, and transfixes them crosswise with the point of his sword, which he then presents to the Bishop.
The Bishop of Rochester
(holding forth the cross to the surrounding Nobles, who kneel and bow their heads towards it).
On Austin's Eve to crown your rightful King
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Should stand between, ye swear of life and land
To take no count; but putting trust in Him
From Whom the rights of Kings are derivate,
In its own blood to trample treason out,
And loyalty in liberty to raise.
This on this cross ye swear!
All.
We swear! We swear!
Edwin.
And now, my lieges, lords and friends, adieu!
In very deed I thank you from my soul;
For in your looks I read that not alone
A common purpose joins you hand in hand,
But likewise that confederate hearts are here.
I thank you, Sirs; adieu!
Clarenbald.
Disperse yourselves
In twos and threes; so severally seen
You will not prompt suspicion.
[Exeunt all but Athulf and Leolf.
Leolf.
Athulf, stay.
I am for Sussex, there to raise my power.
Athulf.
Your Seneschal is there; what needs yourself?
Leolf.
Nor you nor I can longer blind ourselves.
I am needed nowhere.
Athulf.
Leolf, on my soul
What I do see I see with grief and shame.
Leolf.
Reproach her not; she's but a child in years,
And though in wit a woman, yet her heart,
Untempered by the discipline of pain,
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A child is she; and look—upon my head
Already peepeth out the willowy grey.
My youth is wearing from me.
Athulf.
Nay, not so.
Leolf.
And youth and sovereignty, with furtherance fair
Of a seductive beauty in the boy,
What could they but prevail!
Athulf.
A child? No, no;
And if she were, is childhood then so false?
She is weak of heart.
Leolf.
No more. For Hastings I!
No more—or, Athulf, but one word—but one—
To her I would not say it, but to thee
My friend in all fidelity approved—
I—Athulf, she is gone from me for ever! ...
But this remains ... I can devote my life
To serve her and protect her ... broken hearts
Have service in them still—Oh, more than strength
Is in the sad idolatry that haunts
The ruinous fane where lies a buried hope.
I can adore her, serve her, shield her, die....
I pray you pardon me ... is shame no more?
I should be silent; license have I none
To either dotage—that of youth or age.
Athulf.
Oh, Leolf! oh, my friend!
Leolf.
Quit we the theme.
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Expend the passion of your heart in youth;
Fight your love-battles whilst your heart is strong,
And wounds heal kindlily. An April frost
Is sharp, but kills not; sad October's storm
Strikes when the juices and the vital sap
Are ebbing from the leaf. No more. My men
Shall stand in readiness; but for myself,
Unless a martial opposition call,
I would the King might please to pardon me
If I appear not on St. Austin's Eve.
Athulf.
I'll say that you are shaken in your health:
This shall suffice—I would it were less true.
Leolf.
You'll hear, and that ere long, my native air
Has done its work restorative. Farewell.
| Edwin the Fair | |