University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An apartment in the royal castle. Enter Ethelbert meeting with Selred, who enters at the same time from a door at the bottom of the stage.
Eth.
How didst thou leave the king?

Sel.
Recovering strength with every passing hour.
His spirits too, that were so weak and gloomy,
From frequent fainting and the loss of blood,
Now buoyant rise, and much assist the cure
Which all regard as wonderful.

Eth.
It has deceiv'd us, yet I've heard of such.

Sel.
Thou lookest sadly on it: how is this?
With little cost of thought I could explain
In any man but thee that cloudy brow;
But well I know thou didst not prize the power
With which thou wert invested.

Eth.
Selred, this hasty gloom will prove too short
To work in Ethwald's mind the change we look'd for.
And yet he promis'd well.

Sel.
Ay, and will well perform; mistrust him not.
I must confess, nature has form'd his mind
Too restless and aspiring: and of late.
Having such mighty objects in his grasp,
He has too reckless been of others' rights.
But, now that all is gain'd, mistrust him not:
He'll prove a noble king; a good one too.

Eth.
Thou art his brother.

Sel.
And thou his friend.

Eth.
I stand reprov'd before thee.
A friend, indeed, should gentler thoughts maintain,
And so I will endeavour.

Sel.
Give me thy valiant hand; full well I know
The heart which it pertains to.

Eth.
I hear him, now, within his chamber stir.

Sel.
Thou'lt move him best alone. God speed thy zeal!
I'll stand by thee the while and mark his eye.

[Eth. remains on the front of the stage whilst Ethwald enters behind him from the door at the bottom of the stage, leaning upon an attendant.
Ethw.
(to Sel. as he goes up to Eth.)
How, Ethelbert, our friend, so deep in thought?
(To the attendant.)
Leave me awhile methinks a brother's arm
Will be a kindlier staff.
[Exit attendant, and he leans upon Sel.
How, Ethelbert, my friend!
What vision from the nether world of sprites
Now rises to thine eyes, thus on the ground
So fix'd and sternly bent?

Eth.
Pardon, my lord! my mind should now be turn'd
To cheerful thoughts, seeing you thus restor'd.
How fares it with you?

Ethw.
E'en as with one, on a rude mountain's side,
Who suddenly in seeming gloom enclos'd
Of drizzly night, athwart the wearing mist
Sees the veil'd sun break forth in heav'n's wide arch,
And showing still a lengthen'd day before him.
As with a trav'ller in a gloomy path,
Whose close o'er-shaded end did scare his fancy
With forms of hidden ill; who, wending on
With fearful steps, before his eyes beholds
On the sudden burst a fair and wide expanse
Of open country, rich in promis'd good.
As one o'erwhelmed in the battle's shock,
Who, all oppress'd and number'd with the slain,
Smother'd and lost, with sudden impulse strengthen'd,
Shakes the foul load of dead men. from his back,
And finds himself again standing erect,
Unmaim'd and vigorous. As one who stood—
But it may tire thee with such ample scope
To tell indeed how it doth fare with me.

Eth.
You truly are from a dark gloom restor'd
To cheerful day; and, if the passing shade
Has well impress'd your mind, there lies before you
A prospect fair indeed. Ay, fairer far
Than that the gloom obscured.

Ethw.
How sayst thou?

Eth.
Did not that seeming cloud of death obscure
To your keen forecast eye tumultuous scenes
Of war and strife, and conquest yet to come,
Bought with your people's blood? but now, my Ethwald,
Your chasten'd mind, so rich in good resolves,
Hath stretch'd before it future prospect fair,
Such as a god might please.

Ethw.
How so, good Ethelbert?

Eth.
And dost thou not perceive? O see before thee
Thy native land, freed from the ills of war,
And hard oppressive power, a land of peace!
Where yellow fields unspoil'd, and pastures green,
Mottled with herds and flocks, who crop secure
Their native herbage, nor have ever known
A stranger's stall, smile gladly.
See through its tufted alleys to heav'n's roof
The curling smoke of quiet dwellings rise:
Whose humble masters, with forgotten spear
Hung on the webbed wall, and cheerful face
In harvest fields embrown'd, do gaily talk
Over their ev'ning meal, and bless king Ethwald,
The valiant yet the peaceful, whose wise rule,
Firm and rever'd, has brought them better days,
Than e'er their fathers knew.

Ethw.
A scene, indeed, fair and desirable;
But, ah, how much confin'd! Were it not work
A god befitting, with exerted strength,
By one great effort to enlarge its bounds,
And spread the blessing wide?

Eth.
(starting back from him).
Ha! there it is! that serpent bites thee still!
O spurn it, strangle it! let it rise no more!

Sel.
(laying his hand affectionately on Ethwald 's breast).
My dearest brother, let not such wild thoughts
Again possess your mind!

Ethw.
Go to! go to! (To Sel.)

But, Ethelbert, thou'rt mad.

(Turning angrily to Eth.)
Eth.
Not mad, my royal friend, but something griev'd
To see your restless mind still bent on that,
Which will to you no real glory bring,
And to your hapless people many woes.

Ethw.
Thou greatly errest from my meaning, friend.
As truly as thyself I do regard
My people's weal, and will employ the power
Heav'n trusts me with, for that important end.
But were it not ignoble to confine
In narrow bounds the blessed power of blessing,
Lest, for a little space, the face of war
Should frown upon us? He who will not give
Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth,
For others' good, is a poor frozen churl.

Eth.
Well, then again a simple warrior be,
And thine own ease, and blood, and treasure give:
But whilst thou art a king, and wouldst bestow
On people not thine own the blessed gift
Of gentle rule, earn'd by the public force
Of thine own subjects, thou dost give away
That over which thou hast no right. Frown not:
I will assert it, crown'd and royal lord,
Though to your ears full rude the sound may be.

Ethw.
Chaf'd Thane, be more restrain'd. Thou knowest well,
That, as a warlike chieftain, never yet
The meanest of my soldiers grasp'd his spear
To follow me constrain'd; and as a king,
Thinkst thou I'll be less noble?

Sel.
Indeed, good Ethelbert, thou art too warm;
Thou dealest hardly with him.

Eth.
I know, though peace dilates the heart of man
And makes his stores increase, his count'nance smile,
He is by nature form'd, like savage beasts,
To take delight in war.
'Tis a strong passion in his bosom lodg'd,
For ends most wise, curb'd and restrain'd to be;
And they who for their own designs do take
Advantage of his nature, act, in truth,
Like cruel hinds who spirit the poor cock
To rend and tear his fellow.
O thou! whom I so often in my arms,
A bold and gen'rous boy have fondly press'd,
And now do proudly call my sov'reign lord,
Be not a cruel master! O be gentle!
Spare Mercian blood! Goodness and power make
Most meet companions. The great Lord of all,
Before whose awful presence, short while since,
Thou didst expect to stand, almighty is,
Also most merciful:
And the bless'd Being He to earth did send
To teach our soften'd hearts to call him Father,
Most meekly did confine His heavenly power
Unto the task assign'd Him. Think of this.
O! dost thou listen to me?

Ethw.
(moved and softened).
Yes, good Ethelbert.
Be thou more calm: we will consider of it.
We should desire our people's good, and peace
Makes them to flourish. We confess all this;
But circumstance oft takes away the power
Of acting on it. Still our Western neighbours
Are turbulent and bold; and, for the time,
Though somewhat humbled, they again may rise
And force us to the field.

Sel.
No, fear it not! they are inclin'd to peace;
Tidings I've learnt, sent by a trusty messenger,
Who from Caernarvon is with wondrous speed
But just arriv'd: their valiant prince is dead.
A sudden death has snatch'd him in his prime;
And a weak infant, under tutorage
Of three contending chiefs of little weight,
Now rules the state, who, thou mayst well perceive,
Can give thee no disturbance.

Ethw.
(eagerly, with his eyes lightening up, and his whole frame agitated).
A trusty messenger has told thee this?
O send him to me quickly! still fair fortune
Offers her favours freely. Send him quickly!
Ere yet aware of my returning health,
Five thousand men might without risk be led
E'en to their castle walls.

Eth.
What, meanst thou this?
Uprous'd again unto this dev'lish pitch?
Oh, it is horrid!

Ethw.
(in great heat).
Be restrained, Thane.

Eth.
Be thou restrained, king. See how thou art,
Thus feebly tott'ring on those wasted limbs?
And wouldst thou spoil the weak?

(Observing Ethw. who staggers from being agitated beyond his strength.)
Ethw.
(pushing away Selred, who supports him).
I do not want thine aid: I'm well and vig'rous:
My heart beats strongly, and my blood is warm;
Though there are those who spy my weakness out
To shackle me withal. Ho, thou without!
[Enter his attendant, and Ethw., taking hold of him, walks across the stage; then turning about to Sel. and Eth.
Brother, send quickly for your trusty messenger;
And so, good day. Good morning, Thane of Sexford.

(Looking sternly to Ethelbert.)
Eth.
Good morning, Mercia's king.

[Exeunt by opposite sides, frowningly.