University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Osric and Edwin.
Osric.
But to be loosed to such ungovern'd sorrow—
'Tis desperation!—'tis the anarchy
Of minds o'erthrown, where passions ride aloft,
And the fair fields of ripening virtue lie
Defaced beneath the tempest!

Edwin.
Pardon, sir!—
I would—I will obey you—are you not
My only parent, now?—O, happy father!
You lived not to behold this day—the loss
Of your child's mother—of your loved Rowena—
Of all that earth could boast of Heaven—of all
That life could give of joy, or death take from us!—
But the cold grave, with its unfeeling shrowd,
Now shuts you from the sense.—

Osric.
Yet, Edwin, yet,
She may be safe: they would not, could not perpetrate
A deed, of such reproach to manhood—no!
Your eyes shall yet behold her.

Edwin.
Never, never!—
O sir, till I beheld her angel-face,
I knew not what it was to have a mother.
I had laid up, within my fond conception,
A thousand promised scenes of joys to come,
Delights of filial sweetness; days, and years,
Spent in the glad officiousness of duty,
Made happy by her smiles—O, mother fair!
Why died I not in thy defence?
For O, this weak unexecuting arm
Was impotent to save thee!

Osric.
'Twas Heaven's will—
What lay in man to do, thou didst, my Edwin!
The king hath summon'd us to council, here—
If thou dost prize my safety, dry thy tears,
And keep their source a secret. Retire awhile,
To calm this storm of overbearing passions.

[Exeunt.