 | Alfred |  |
31
ACT III.
Hinguar and Edda.EDDA.
Early my doubts arose. I ne'er believ'd
Her malady was real. Often, my Lord,
Have I observ'd her looks sedate and calm:
Then, quick as thought, when she had caught my eye,
She started into well-dissembled frenzy.
HINGUAR.
Why ne'er unfold thy doubts?
EDDA.
Till now, I durst not;
Because I had no proof of my suspicion:
For in thy presence, with amazing art,
She counterfeits distraction. Well I knew
Thy partial love would ill receive a charge
On mere conjecture founded. What I saw
This day to certainty has chang'd my doubts.
Try her, my Lord; and if I have deceived thee,
I ask no mercy.—
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If she has deceiv'd me,
As I believe she has, I'll show her none.
This is the Lover whom her songs bewail,
The favourite, for whom she guards her charms,
And mocks the credulous Dane. He mocks me too.
I'll take luxurious vengeance.—Guards.
[Enter Erick with a plume and scarf, with Danish soldiers.]
ERICK.
My Lord.
HINGUAR.
Unsheath your swords. Be ready, at a word,
To execute my orders. Send him hither.
(To Erick.
(Exit Edda.
Surpriz'd, subdued, with dread of instant death,
I'll search his secret soul; and then the slave,
For his presumption, dies.
(Enter Alfred, views the scene for a moment, and then advances intrepidly.)
HINGUAR.
Thou traitor! villain!
How durst thou, with thy puny arts, attempt
To practise upon me?
ALFRED.
Take back those names;
Which utter'd here, do not dishonour me;
But on thyself return.
HINGUAR.
Ha! Dost thou brave me?
I'll pull thy courage down.
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Thou can'st not, Hinguar.
I mock the lifted sword, and smile at death.
HINGUAR.
Tell me, impostor, who thou really art,
And who that woman is, thy false associate,
In this vile artifice?
ALFRED.
Not from the dread
Of what thy vengeance can inflict, I answer;
But to assert my honour. To thy tents,
Altho' disguised I came, no traitor I.
I came not, Hinguar, to attempt thy life;
But to enquire a much-lov'd sister's fate;
For whom I trembled, since the hour I heard
She was thy captive.
HINGUAR.
Ha! thy sister, sayst thou?
What is thy name?
ALFRED.
Surrey.
HINGUAR.
Thy name is known,
Of great account, amongst the foes of Denmark.
Thou art the chosen friend of English Alfred.
ALFRED.
His faithful subject.
HINGUAR.
What's thy sister's name?
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Emma. Alas! to great misfortune born!
HINGUAR.
Suspend a while thy judgment of her fortune.
Retire.
(To the Guards, who go off.)
The tale of Alfred was devised
To smooth thy way to Emma.
ALFRED.
So it was,
Yet Alfred, if alive, in peril lives;
And doubtful, at this moment, is his fate.
HINGUAR.
Dead or alive, I care not. If he lives,
He never can regain his kingdom lost;
Nor England e'er shake off the yoke of Denmark.
Surrey, tho' war and battle are my joy,
Yet I desire sometimes in peace to dwell.
Thy sister's beauty has inflam'd my heart,
And policy accords with love's desire.
The charming Emma shall be Hinguar's bride:
And England, partial to her own, obey
Princes, whose blood is native to the land.
ALFRED.
Thou hast a Queen.
HINGUAR.
What then? The Gods of Denmark
Do not, like yours, their votaries confine
To the domestic bondage of one wife.
My soul abhors the daughter of old Gothred,
That furious woman, who was once my Queen:
Her I divorce; and on her vacant throne,
Will place thy sister.
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That her faith forbids.
A Christian cannot wed a heathen Lord.
HINGUAR.
Thy mind, averse, is fertile in objections.
Saxon, thou speak'st not with a brother's tongue.
Thou hast deceiv'd me once.—Erick!
Enter Erick.
ERICK.
My Lord.
HINGUAR.
Within my tent confine and guard him strictly.
[Exeunt Alfred and Erick.
I do suspect this is the Lover still.
It much behoves me soon to be resolv'd.
'Tis just, with fallacy, to prove the false;
And turn the arts of woman on herself.
I'll give a rude alarm, and shake her soul,
Even to the center. To my wish, she comes,
Buried in thought. She has not yet observ'd me.
(Steps aside.
Enter Ethelswida.
ETHELSWIDA.
I fear we are discover'd and betray'd.
That Danish woman, whom I never lov'd,
Has held a private conference with Hinguar.
She pierces me with her malicious eyes,
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She has o'erheard us.—
Hinguar comes behind and seizes her arm.
Ah!
HINGUAR.
Why dost thou start,
And look so guilty? Where's thy frenzy now?
The artful semblance, that deceiv'd the Dane?
Thy fear betrays the fraud I knew before.
Confess thy fault and trust to Hinguar's mercy.
ETHELSWIDA.
Mercy!
HINGUAR.
Altho' thou hast offended deeply,
Thy beauty pleads for thee: My love forgives.
One victim is enough.
ETHELSWIDA.
One victim! ah I
HINGUAR.
Yes, thy associate, the pretended Bard,
Who call'd himself thy brother: He hath paid
The forfeit, with his life.
ETHELSWIDA.
(Staggers ready to faint.)
Thou bloody Dane!
Inhuman monster! hast thou murder'd Alfred?
And dost thou speak of love to Ethelswida?
HINGUAR.
Alfred and Ethelswida!
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Tyrant! Yes.
There's nothing now to save or to deny.
In me, behold the bride of royal Alfred!
Thy treachery, and not thy valour, Dane,
Upon our nuptial day, divorc'd our loves.
But neither force nor fraud can part us now.
Where Alfred is, my soul shall shortly be.
HINGUAR.
Thou'rt greatly chang'd. This courage is not real.
'Tis not thy nature.
ETHELSWIDA.
I shall change no more.
My former fear from love extreme arose.
Then, life was dear to me, for Alfred's sake.
But now, since he is dead, for Alfred's sake,
I wish to die, and loath the life I lov'd.
HINGUAR.
'Tis bravely spoken.
ETHELSWIDA.
'Tis not my desire
To hold discourse with thee. Go, from my sight;
Thou'rt hideous to my eyes, thou vile assassin!
(Turns away.)
HINGUAR.
Hear me!
ETHELSWIDA.
I wou'd not, if I could prevent it.
But what I can I will. I speak no more.
My lips are clos'd for ever.
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Yet I know
A way to open them. That bitter smile,
I reck not; no, nor those averted eyes.
Know, I have turn'd thy arts against thyself,
And caught thee, in thy own deceitful snare.
From impotence of mind, thou hast reveal'd
Th'important secret, that the bard was Alfred.
Now, if he dies, it is thy folly kills him:
He lives, by thee, discover'd to his foe.
ETHELSWIDA.
Does Alfred live, and has my tongue betray'd him?
Have I discovered Alfred to his foe?
Barbarian!
HINGUAR.
Still thou may'st preserve his life,
His fate on thee depends.
ETHELSWIDA.
On me!
HINGUAR.
On thee!
Accept my offer'd hand, and Alfred lives.
Nay, re-ascends, in peace, his father's throne.
If not, I swear by Odin, awful name,
The God of battles, whom alone I serve,
This hour, my rival dies.
ETHELSWIDA.
Is this thy mercy?
Would Hinguar, conscious that my heart is full
Of love to Alfred, take a faithless hand?
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I wou'd; I will, this instant; speak the word.
ETHELSWIDA.
I shudder at the thought, and loath thee more,
Much more than ever. Brutal is thy passion,
And horrible to womankind thy love.
HINGUAR.
Is this thy answer? Whilst the Saxon lives,
Thou hast some hope. Of him I will dispose,
Without delay.
(Going.)
ETHELSWIDA.
Stay, I conjure thee, stay.
HINGUAR.
My time is precious. I have deeply sworn,
And fix'd the only ransom of his life.
ETHELSWIDA.
Touch not the life of Alfred.
HINGUAR.
Every word,
Thy passion speaks, accelerates his doom.
I go to see him die.
ETHELSWIDA.
(seizing his robe.)
Thou shalt not go.
By all that's holy, I will not survive him.
HINGUAR.
Some of thy sex, I know, have sworn as much,
And have surviv'd the vow.
(Going.
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One moment stay.
HINGUAR.
Her countenance is like a troubled sky,
When the wind veers about.
ETHELSWIDA.
(aside.)
Inspire me, heaven!
The life of Alfred, and the fate of England,
Are in the balance. Yes, I am inspir'd.
Heaven, that suggests the thought, will give me strength
To act the generous deed.
HINGUAR.
Her mind gives way.
ETHELSWIDA.
Hinguar! should I consent to be thy bride,
Would Alfred's life be safe? What pledge for that?
What hostage hast thou worth the King of England?
HINGUAR.
Consider and demand.
ETHELSWIDA.
Set Alfred free:
The English camp is near: conduct him thither:
Let me have full assurance of his safety;
Then lead me to the altar. When my vow
Is made, tho' made to thee, our holy faith
Enjoins till death, observance.
(Exit.
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Set him free
And trust a woman's word! I like it not.
Fortune hath favour'd me, beyond my hopes.
My rival, both in empire and in love,
Is in my power. How shall I best improve
The prosperous hour, which my good planet rules?
Enter Erick.
ERICK.
My Lord, the valiant Rollo craves admittance.
HINGUAR.
I will not see him. He is sent by Ronex,
With some ungrateful message. Ask his business.
ERICK.
Unask'd he told it. In the field, to-day,
His brother press'd too near the English horse:
They turn'd and took him pris'ner. Rollo begs,
That he may be exchang'd.
HINGUAR.
For whom?
ERICK.
For Surrey,
Whom in the tent he saw.
HINGUAR.
He and his brother,
And all their tribe, are not worth such a ransom:
Erick, that Surrey is the King of England.—
Alfred himself.
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Alfred!
HINGUAR.
He is, by heaven!
And my fair captive is the Mercian maid
By Alfred lov'd, the beauteous Ethelswida!
Go, bring the Saxon hither.
[Exit Erick.
Manet HINGUAR.
Now, I'll sound him.
The policy of state enjoins his death:
The politicks of love suspend his doom.
The instrument he is, by which I'll work
This woman to my will. If I can make
Her lover false to her, pride and revenge,
Will bring her not reluctant to my arms.
Thus play the passions of her wayward sex.
Birds of a kind, they build their nests alike;
And one true falcon, like another flies.
So, every woman, when her love is scorn'd,
By certain instinct, takes the same revenge.
(Enter Alfred, in his first dress; advances resolutely.)
Twice have we met to day, and both the times,
With borrow'd names and forms, thou hast deceiv'd me.
Alfred; I know thee now.
ALFRED.
Hinguar, thou dost.
HINGUAR.
Repine not at this chance. If we had met,
In lists of combat or embattled field,
Death or captivity had been thy portion.
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Uncertain ever is the fate of arms.
HINGUAR.
I have not found it so. In every battle
On my victorious banners fortune waits.
Suppose, then, that thou wert, by chance of war,
My pris'ner; say, what wou'dst thou now expect
Should be thy doom?
ALFRED.
'Tis Hinguar's part to say,
And mine to suffer.
HINGUAR.
Thou shalt suffer nothing,
Unnworthy of a king. Tho' of the race
Of war and battle, who have stretch'd the spear
Of conquest o'er mankind; yet I will speak
The words of peace. The English and the Danes
Have fought too long, for this contested land,
Whose spacious kingdoms can, with ease, contain
The rival nations; and the fertile fields
Glut, with luxurious plenty, their desires.
Let us divide the land, and join in league
Eternal: Then, united, shake the world.
ALFRED.
Treaties of peace and leagues have oft been made;
But how observed, thou know'st.
HINGUAR.
There was no bond
To make the former treaties fast and sure.
The peace I offer now shall be confirm'd,
By ties, which bind the nations to each other.
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In Denmark born, but here in England bred;
Matchless in form and feature is the maid;
Straight as the pine, that grows on Norway's hills.
She rises tall above the virgin-train:
Blue rowls her melting eye: Her heaving breast
Is whiter than the snow, that's newly fallen.
This maid of beauty I will give to Alfred,
The pledge and bond of union and of peace.
(Alfred remains silent.
Why dost thou not reply? Dost thou disdain
A bride of Danish race?
ALFRED.
Silent, I stand
To learn the full extent of thy design.
Mean'st thou not still to blend the nations more;
To mix the royal blood of either land;
And wed thyself a wife of English race?
HINGUAR.
I do.
ALFRED.
And 'tis my bride that thou hast chosen.
HINGUAR.
Call her not thine. Nothing belongs to thee.
A captive has no right.
ALFRED.
Thou keep'st thy word,
And treat'st me like a king!
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I'll make thee one,
Which now thou art not. Wed the maid of Denmark;
And o'er thy father's ancient kingdom reign.
ALFRED.
Unworthy I should be to reign,—to live,
If I could make such barter of my honour.
Is this the peace of Hinguar?
HINGUAR.
Yes: no other.
ALFRED.
Are these the terms that thou propound'st to Alfred?
HINGUAR.
They are.
ALFRED.
I am a captive and unarm'd;
So, with impunity, thou may'st insult me.
HINGUAR.
I stand astonish'd at thy pride, thy folly.
Thou ruin'd Alfred, think of thy condition.
Thy life or death upon my nod depends.
ALFRED.
Ruin'd I am; but it was human weakness,
And no disgraceful fault, that ruin'd Alfred.
Impell'd by tender, anxious, jealous love;
Despising Danger, to thy tents I came;
And dost thou think I am so quickly alter'd?
Dost thou imagine, that the dread of death
Can move my soul to yield to thee my bride?
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Hinguar, the meanest man of Saxon race,
In freedom born, would from such baseness shrink;
And scorn, with infamy, to purchase life.
HINGUAR.
Thou talk'st it well; and I have often heard
Of the persuasive eloquence of Alfred.
Plain are my words: They speak thy certain doom.
If not the friend and firm ally of Hinguar,
Thou dy'st.
ALFRED.
My death will not conclude the war.
One course there is, if greatly thou aspir'st
To reign supreme in England, and possess
With honour gain'd, fair Ethelswida's charms.
HINGUAR.
I do.
ALFRED.
Then mark me, Dane! Tho' thou art sprung
From heroes, more than human,—Odin's race,
Who stretch'd the spear of conquest o'er the world;
And thou, thyself, in war and battles bred,
Chain'd to thy sword submissive fortune lead'st;
Alfred, whose fathers have in battle fallen,
Whose valour ne'er could fix inconstant fortune,
Offers to meet thee, in the listed field;
And, by his single arm, to thine oppos'd,
Decide the sovereignty of England's realm,
By the award of heaven. In this encounter,
My nobles and my people will abide;
And, if thou conquer'st, Ethelswida's thine.
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What folly to presume, thou fallen Alfred!
That I will free my captive, and contend
With him on equal terms!
ALFRED.
Brav'd as I was,
I thought it fitting, thus, to meet thy scorn.
Perhaps I entertain'd a glimpse of hope,
That thou might choose thus nobly to prevail,
To gain by valour warlike England's crown;
And to the beauteous Ethelswida come,
The victor, not the murderer, of her husband.
HINGUAR.
The beauteous Ethelswida has consented
To give her hand. The terms which thou disdain'st,
Vain-glorious Saxon! are more ample far,
Than those which she did stipulate for thee.
Thus she rewards the constancy of Alfred.
Consider that.
ALFRED.
No, not one moment, Dane.
Thy faith in love and war to me are known.
HINGUAR.
I will take no advantage of thy passion.
Hear my determin'd purpose: Thou shalt die,
Or wed the maid of Denmark. Heated now
And chaff'd with keen contention, pride rebels
Against thy reason. I will give thee time
To cool, and take the counsel of thy judgment.
One hour thou hast to think.
(To Erick.)
Conduct him hence.
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Prudence requires that Hinguar too should think.
Behold yon banners streaming to the wind,
The host of England will revenge their King.
(Exeunt Alfred and Erick.
HINGUAR.
This Alfred bears a high and haughty mind,
Not likely to submit. Over his grave,
The path of Hinguar lies. When he is dead,
After a storm of rage, a flood of tears,
The changeful sky of woman will grow clear,
And beauty's beams on the new lover shine.
Enter Edda.
EDDA.
The tidings which I bring, my pardon plead,
For this intrusion.
HINGUAR.
Say, what has befallen?
EDDA.
Ronex, the Queen, pursues the Captive's life.
Rollo, devoted to her will, address'd me,
With promises of infinite reward,
If I would lend my aid. When I refus'd,
He threaten'd me. The party of the Queen
Was strong enough, he said, by force, to right her.
HINGUAR.
That was his errand here?
EDDA.
I seem'd to slight
His menaces. He kindled into rage;
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Were in his tent assembled with the Queen,
And waited his return, to rise in arms,
And execute her orders.
HINGUAR.
I'll prevent them,
And crush this nest of traitors. Rollo's tent;
That is the place?
EDDA.
It is.
HINGUAR.
Look to thy charge.
Here, thou art absolute; the guards obey thee.
(Exit.
Manet Edda.
This lovely Captive will, at last, be Queen.
I must endeavour to regain her favour.
(Exit.
End of the Third Act.
| Alfred | |