University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Rocky Coast, without the City of Chester.
Athelwold, Elfrid, Edwyn, Men and Women Attendants.
Athelwold
, to an Attendant.
Back to the Boat; caution the Mariners,
When ask'd, what Lady shar'd our ill-tim'd Wreck,
To answer, at their Peril, as I taught 'em.
Edwyn.—

[Exit Attendant.
Edwyn.
My Lord?

Athelwold.
Haste, watchful and unmark'd,
Climb that high Path, and, ent'ring my Apartment,
Thro' the close Grove that bounds the Palace Garden,
Warn Egbert to receive us: So shall we shun
The City's busy Eye.—Elfrid, my Wife!
[Exit Edwyn.
My Hope! my Fear! my Pride! my Soul's soft Joy!
Was ever fatal Shipwreck tim'd like ours?

Elfrid.
Why kept we not the Sea? Those unseen Shoals
Had then been left, far distant.

Athelwold.
Shame on this Pride
That swells the Hearts of Kings!—But that I shunn'd
His wide-stretch'd Navy, whose expanded Wings
Inclos'd yon empty Triumph, we had, in Safety,
Held on our Course for Lancaster,—and Edgar,
And Chester's dreaded Walls, been pass'd, unseen.

Elfrid.
Why shunn'd you Edgar? You had struck no Shoal,
Had Jealousy not wreck'd you. Where was the Danger,
Had we, amid the shouting Swarms, approach'd
His glitt'ring Barge? that, proud of eight Kings Rowing,
Methought, mov'd, conscious of her glorious Freight,
And felt her Sovereign's Triumph!

Athelwold.
Edgar is young,
Am'rous, impatient, hot as the Summer Sun;
But as the Shadow changing.—Emma, the Sister
Of Leolyn, my Friend, must be his Queen.
That Day once past, that Day, now near, my Elfrid,
Trembling no longer, for my Soul's best Treasure,
I shall unveil thee to the Eye of Edgar:
Then, in full Lustre, break upon the Court,
Charm the glad World, and swell the Voice of Wonder.
Till then—

Elfrid.
Till then, you think, a Woman's Honour
Is safest when not trusted?—Come, be wise;
Laugh at your Sex's Notions, and see Truth,
Unprejudic'd by Maxim. You have been taught
That a Man's Caution guards a Woman's Vertue:
Believe me, 'tis an Error.—Wrong'd by the Doubt,
We make that Doubt our Licence, and grow light,
To justify Suspicion.

Athelwold.
Of thee not jealous:
I fear the Heart of Edgar: There is a Secret
Which, yet, thou must not know!—For all the Glory
Fortune could heap upon a happy Wisher,
I would not he had seen thee.

Elfrid.
Why chuse you then
To lodge me in the Gardens of his Palace?

Athelwold.
Safely conceal'd, in my Apartment, there,
While Triumph busies the tumultuous Court,
Fair as thou art, thou may'st remain unknown,
Till soon we re-imbark for Lancaster:
But Fate has driven me under Edgar's Eye,
Nor can I shun his Presence.—
[A Shout at distance.
The Barge, triumphant,
'Twixt the two sounding Banks, floats proudly in;
See! the broad Sprinklings from the golden Oars,
Dash'd, in gay Mists, against the glitt'ring Sun,
Scatter a liquid Lightning!—E're the King lands,
Retire, my Soul's soft Charmer. From this Boat,
That foremost strikes the Shore, descends a Lord,
Wily, suspicious, flatt'ring, base, and busy:
Malice and Fear divide his motley Soul:
Soft'ning Submission dwells on his cool Tongue;
But his Heart burns with Envy.—See! he lands;
Oswald, the State's Prime Minister.—Retire;
He must not see thee.—Look!—Edwyn attends thy Coming.

[Exit, leading Elfrid.
Enter Oswald, attended.
Oswald.
[Exit first Messenger.
[Exit second Messenger.
[Exit third Messenger.
Re-enter Athelwold.

Athelwold.
Oh! 'tis too kind, my Lord, amidst your Cares,
To waste this fine Court Rhet'rick, on a Plainness
So unadorn'd as mine!—In War's big Pomp,
The King, sometimes, in the broad Battle's Front,
Finds Athelwold, most near him: But, for a Day
So safely plum'd as this, a thousand Feathers,
Loftier and far more gay than mine had been,
Were proud, no doubt, to wave in State about him.

Oswald.
Nay, my good Lord! your Enemies must own
Your Valour's ablest Rival is your Reason.

Athelwold.
Why will you angle, with too short a Line,
In Depths of cautious Honesty?—I know you.—
Why will you still, you and your envious Faction,
Bow, to the happy Favourite you hate,
And smile your Curses on me?—Shame on your Meanness!
If I deserve Esteem, give it, sincere:
If not, disdain to court the Man you fear,
And, with brave Truth, renounce me.

Oswald.
Why, thus 'tis, ever!
Distrustful Men but nourish new Suspicions
From the best Means we use, to quench the old.
Still I am misconceiv'd.—My Lord! My Lord!
Ill Agents have been busy.—And here comes one,
Re-enter Edwyn.
Whom Oswald should avoid.—I'll charm the King
With News of your Return.
[Exit Oswald.

Edwyn.
A new-born Love
Is full of soft Impatience!—Soon as arriv'd,
I was commanded to return, and press you
To shorten your meant Absence.

Athelwold.
Is she safe?

Edwyn.
Egbert is warn'd, shou'd the King quit the Crowd,
And but approach the Garden, to conceal her.

Athelwold.
Then I will fear
No longer, but expect the King; and meet him
With a mask'd Smile of Innocence.—O Edwyn!
Should Ethelinda know I have married Elfrid,
How wretched would it make her!—Oswald hates thee:
As if he read our Secret, through thy Heart;
Saw there thy gen'rous Silence, which conceals
My dear stol'n Night of Joy with that soft Charmer.
Who that saw both, could think her Neice to Oswald?

Edwyn.
So, my good Lord, would her false Servant say;
That doubly faithless Fair-one, who betray'd
To me her Lady's Honour, yet forsook me!

Athelwold.
She wrong'd her Mistress; but she lov'd thee surely!
Who, in that Secret, gave up both our Honours,
To thy safe Keeping.—But, since all was told thee,
'Twere now a fruitless Point of proud Reserve,
With thee, to keep that Silence, which the Favour'd
Shou'd hold, in rev'rence of a Lady's Honour,
As sacred as his Glory.—Oh! suppose not,
Because she bless'd my Wishes, that Ethelinda
Yielded like common Beauties.

Edwyn.
'Twas plain, You lov'd her;
For, when her Horse was drown'd, in Severn's Ford,
You, from your own, leapt, rash: Thro' the swol'n stream,
Plung'd on, and snatch'd her, sinking.

Athelwold.
A warlike Symphony.

Edwyn.
Fatal Wreck!
Heaven, that commission'd it, avert my Fears.
[Exit Edwyn.

Athelwold
, alone.
He comes—I'll walk a Turn behind these Rocks;
And gather Firmness, to sustain his Eye,
Whom, most of Men I love; yet, most have wrong'd.

[Exit.

SCENE. II.

Enter Edgar, from the Triumph, attended by Leolyn, Oswald, &c.
Edgar.
Chester, This Act, to Time's last Hour, renowns
Thy Name, with Edgar's. Far, as the bounded World
Gives Space for Fame to breathe in, shall be spread
The Boast of this Day's Triumph.—Yet, Thou say'st,
Nations, whose Names lie deep, in unborn Time,
Will rise, and censure, and mistake our Purpose.

Leolyn.
Many will judge amiss, and call it Insult.

Edgar.
I know it, and despise it. My freed Soul
Then, stript of her Encumb'rance, mounting strong,
Shall rise, above Ambition; nor hold Fame
By the faint Tenure of weak mortal Praise:
But from the Partners of her bright Enlargement!
Spirits! that judge unprejudic'd, and move
Unbounded, and, in Millions, fill those Voids,
Which Thought ev'n akes, to guess at!

Leolyn.
The Forms of Homage
Differ, with Sovereign's Wills: yet are but Forms.
Kings suffer not by Seemings; if they did,
The Shame, that follows Insult, wou'd cut double,
And wound the Wounder deepest.

Edgar.
Nobly spoke!
Spoke like the Friend of Edgar, and of Athelwold!

Oswald.
Malignant Envy will not dare misjudge
The Virtues of our Monarch. Rais'd to this Height,
Our Wishes are outstript; and all our Task
Is, to receive, and wonder at, our Blessings!

Edgar.
No Flattery, Oswald.—Tis my noblest Pride
To have deserv'd Applause: To listen to it
Sullies the conscious Glory.—Athelwold!—
Re-enter Athelwold.
Friend, of my Soul! my Life's best self! my, Light!
My every Wish at once, and every Blessing!

Athelwold
, kneeling.
My Gracious, partial, Sovereign!

Edgar.
Rise—nor distress me,
With this vain Ceremony. Bow, but to Heaven,
That made thee not a King, to make thee more;
And stampt thy Soul divinely!—Cornwall's Daughter,
I find, deserv'd not, I so long shou'd lose thee.
All thy long Letters, welcome, as they were,
Brought me no Hope from Elfrid: Fame, it seems,
Deceiv'd us, and had flatter'd her.

Athelwold.
She's Fair:
But never cou'd have been that striking Charmer,
So found and lost at once. She flames not out
With That strong Blaze of Charms; that living Fire!
That burns, unquench'd, upon your Royal Memory.

Edgar.
No, Athelwold;—I see, I hear, she cannot.
Else, had thy Eyes catch'd Fire, and stream'd it on me.
Else, had thy labouring Heart, oppress'd with Meaning,
Shook, like an Earthquake, in Discharge of Passion.—
Thou art a cold Describer!—Oh!—the Day!
The dear, remember'd Day! when, at the Altar,
Where, in Thanksgiving, I had bow'd to Heav'n,
Heav'n seem'd descending on me!—My rais'd Eye
Met her flash'd Charms, amidst a gazing Crowd,
Who, from the Scaffolded Cathedral's Sides,
Pour'd their bold Looks upon me: Greatness, and Languor,
Flow'd, in a soften'd Radiance, from her Mien,
And kindled every Shrine, with new Divinity!
Sweetness sat smiling, on her humid Eye-balls:
And light-wing'd Fancy danc'd and flam'd about her!
Scarce were the solemn Duties of the Place
Remember'd, while I saw her!—At last—with Pain,—
Slow—dragging my reluctant Eyes away.
I lost her;—e're Religion licens'd Love
To steal a second Wonder.

Oswald.
Strange! that since then,
Inquiry shou'd have toil'd in vain to find her!

Edgar.
One wou'd have thought, the Light that paints the World,
Might have been lost, as possibly as hers!
But, since all Search is vain, and far-fam'd Elfrid
Fails my last Hope, I will redeem my Heart,
And quench the blazing Image.—Danger, and Arms,
Shall fright the trembling Softness from my Soul.
I will resume War's Thunder.—Athelwold!—Leolyn!—
Help me to conquer: Wake me again to Glory:
Tear me from Love,—and guide me to Renown.
[Trumpets without.
Hark!—They move on.—Stay;—Friends have much to speak of.
Anon, we meet again.—

[Exit Edgar, follow'd by Oswald, &c.
Athelwold.
Prince Leolyn,
You had a warlike, tho' unhappy, Father.
Yon rugged Hills have eccho'd with his Glory.
But, that his last too fatal Rashness forfeited
Half Wales, your Patrimony, Edgar blushing,
Must have remember'd, when He spoke of Love,
You have a Sister's claim.

Leolyn.
Emma, my Lord,
Was then a Sovereign's Daughter: now, she is sunk,
To Sister of a Subject. Time was, when Edgar,
Short of his present Fortune, weigh'd my Daring;
And vow'd, my Sister shou'd partake his Throne:
He sees me, now, grown tame: an humble suff'rer!
And, while he holds my Lands, neglects my Blood;
And boasts another Love, to shame my Patience.

Athelwold.
Hope better from him. The King's Heart is Noble:
And his past Promise sacred. Passion's Tide
Bears him a-slant, and must, a while, have Way.
Unite your means with mine: my Fate requires
Your Sister shou'd be Queen. Urge Rights of Faith,
And leave th'Event to me.

Leolyn.
I can urge nothing.
Let me confess, that Love, the smiling Ruin,
Love! has unman'd me, till my soften'd Heart
Wants ev'n the Will to murmur.—Ethelinda,
The gentle Ethelinda! fills my Soul.
Why start you at her Name? why have you shunn'd
To urge her Pity, in your Friend's Behalf?
You sav'd her Life, and must have Int'rest in Her,
To aid a Lover's Wishes.

Athelwold.
Oh! Friendship! Friendship!
To what wilt thou reduce me!

Leolyn.
I doubt not Friendship.
I speak of Love—my Love to Ethelinda.

Athelwold.
Be wise, and think no more of Ethelinda.

Leolyn.
Bid me not live, and I'll obey you gladly.
But, when you bid me cease to think of Her,
You bid me live to Sense of all Death's Pains,
And die to all Life's Comforts.

Athelwold.
How deaf is Passion!
You must not think of Ethelinda.

Leolyn.
I must not?

Athelwold.
Unless you cease to press my Aid, you must not.

Leolyn.
Great is your Power, 'tis true, and no where Greater
Than in the Breast of Leolyn.—Yet, sure!
A Prohibition, of such fatal Weight,
Owes your Friend's Ear some Reason?

Athelwold.
I have no Reason.
Ruin and Fate break in upon my Schemes,
And plunge me in Confusion.

Leolyn.
Ruin and Fate!
Schemes and Confusion!—This Disorder proves,
What I've long fear'd, that where I hop'd a Friend,
I fir'd a Rival's Jealousy.

Athelwold.
You wrong me, Prince:
Widely, you wrong me!

Leolyn.
Oh!—Grant, Heaven, I may!—
Ease my Impatience, quickly then, and say,
Whence that Confusion rose?

Athelwold.
From you; from you:
From Ethelinda, Friendship, Honour, Pity:
Spare me the Torment of a plainer Reason,
And, trust my Faith, there is one.

Leolyn.
Is one?—Ha!
What plainer Reason?—Perish all my Hopes
Unpitied,—Let my hated Name be blotted
From every List of Honesty and Fame,
If I renounce not Athelwold's false Friendship,
And, from this Moment, hold him for my Foe,
Till he discloses this pretended Secret,
That my Heart springs to snatch at.

Athelwold.
Hot Leolyn!
Rash, headstrong Man!—Now, by th'eternal Power!
By Heaven's all-dreaded Throne! thou shalt not.—

Leolyn.
Shall not! What!
Not marry Ethelinda?

Athelwold.
Impatient Leolyn!
Why dost thou interrupt me?—

Leolyn.
Impatient, said'st thou?
I am Frost, Rock, Ice, Adamant!—Perdition!
Impatient? I am an Anvil.—Shall not marry her?

Athelwold.
I see you mov'd,—and bleed with Pity for you.
You said I was your Rival: Hear me, rash Man!
For I will shame Suspicion, by a Trust
Your Levity deserves not.—Am I thy Rival?—
Take then this Secret from me: Yes, Leolyn,
Woman and Love have made a Traitor of me.
I have, indeed, been false; but not to thee:
I have deceiv'd the King,—have married Elfrid;
And found her Beauty more than Fame had spoke her.
This known, destroys me: Yet ev'n this I tell,
To ease the throbbing Doubt of thy fond Heart.

Leolyn.
Ease! what! whom!—said'st thou not that Ethelinda
Must not be mine? that Ethelinda shall not?
And, while Life trembles at it, thou wouldst sooth me
With a slight Tale of Elfrid!—Why dost thou trifle with me?
Or dost thou know, for, by my Heart's lost Hope,
Thou seem'st to mean it,—some black secret Story
That her fair Fame is touch'd by?—Ha!—by that Heaven
That doom'd me, from my Birth, to Wrongs and Shame!
Thou hast thyself betray'd my Ethelinda!
My tortur'd Mem'ry recollects your Looks,
Her Blushes, your Confusion, when by chance
My Entrance has disturb'd your Privacies,
With an unwish'd Intrusion.—Oh! 'tis plain,
Thou hast destroy'd my Peace: Thou hast possess'd her.
Thou!—Thou!—thy guilty Silence owns it; proves it.
Was it not so?—Say; answer me;—speak; tell me?

Athelwold.
Mad, as the Winds in Tempest!—till thou cool'st
I will not answer thee.

Leolyn
, drawing his Sword.
Curse on my Life's best Wishes,
If I not force the Secret from thy Heart,
Or drown it in thy Blood.

Athelwold.
Away, light Threat'ner!—
'Twas Friendship's undeserv'd and gen'rous Delicacy,
That, in a tender and unguarded Moment,
Has wak'd a Jealousy, that will distract thee.—
Honour, forgive me, if, too nicely urg'd,
I seem to wrong thy Laws!—and tell this Madman,
I have myself a Claim to Ethelinda,
That blots out his, for ever.

Leolyn.
Married to Elfrid!
And yet a Claim to Ethelinda too,
That blots out mine!—Die, and be dumb for ever,
Thou lying, babling Traitor.

Athelwold.
Nay, then,
Defend thyself, rash Boaster.

[They fight, Leolyn is disarm'd.
Enter Oswald, with a Guard.
Oswald.
Shame, my good Lords!
Shame on this sudden Boldness of Dispute,
So near the Royal Presence!—At the Hill's Foot
Your Warmth alarm'd the King, and he requires
Your Presence, Prince.

Leolyn.
Oh! that the King's Command
Were kind enough but to indulge the Death
Proud Athelwold despis'd the Power of giving me!

[Exit, with Oswald and Guards.
Athelwold
alone.
Why hop'd I Peace, who had declin'd from Virtue!
The Innocent alone act steadily;
The Guilty can but mean it.—O Ethelinda!—
In the dark Race of Vice, when once begun,
We start on Mischiefs we most wish to shun:
Push'd by the Fate of Guilt, and thence accurs'd,
New Crimes grow needful, to support the first;
Till, from Dishonour, we to Ruin fall,
And one disjointed Virtue loosens all.

Exit.