 | Earl Goodwin |  |
SCENE, a small Distance from the Abbey.
Enter King Edward, Archbishop of Canterbury, Monks, &c. &c.
Edward.
My Lord Archbishop, I approve your zeal,
Yet must lament the error of a queen.
O feeble woman! lost when unrestrain'd,
And virtuous but from terror, how may man
Believe you innocent? your 'witching smile
We will suspect, your cheerfulness condemn,
Your friendships taint with calumny, and plead
The friend you dare approve is meant for vice:
Thus shall you live suspected, ev'ry joy,
Tho' guiltless, be arraign'd by the hot fiend,
Inhuman Jealousy! your sex's freedom
Be lost, and tyranny alone secure you.
Canterbury
(smiling.)
[Aside.]
The worst security a man may choose.
Edward.
Should this sad punishment now fail our purpose,
How shall we henceforth judge of woman's faith?
Canterbury.
That question kings or bishops ne'er can solve;
For virtue, the divinity within,
Cloath'd in her self-created radiance, smiles
Unseen on human judgment: yet, my liege,
Think woman needs example. Woman falls
If she but doubt our rules are not divine;
Then where's her basis, if we once permit
Her curious mind to stretch beyond our bound?
It must not be! custom and law are ours;
And when frail woman errs, we must enforce them.
Edward.
The work be thine—I'll shun the dreadful scene.
Canterbury.
'Twill ill become you to be absent: vice
Will shrink abash'd and glow with treble shame:
Your subjects will applaud a mind so pure,
So prone to justice; while religion shines
With double splendour, nourish'd by a king.
—Ye holy priests, whose piety can charm,
In scenes like this, the soul to resignation!
Haste to the joyless Emma, guide her on.
And sooth the riotous croud.
1st Priest.
Where may we meet?
Canterbury.
In the outward court, on the wide pavement, there
Lay the red ploughshares. Let the gates be thrown
Back on their hinges, lest the public eye
Meet with obstruction.
[Exit Priests.
Edward.
O thou awful pow'r!
That know'st the secret workings of my soul,
If this hard chastisement to thee be gracious,
The praise be thine—but, if I err, forgive me.
Canterbury
(aside, smiling).
How prudently man bargains for his faults!
[Bell tolls.
Edward
(starting).
Why sounds that doleful bell?
Canterbury.
The church must aid
The sad solemnity—at once she blames
And mourns her erring daughter.
Edward.
Lead the way.
[Exeunt.
Enter Alwine.
Alwine.
Be calm, my injur'd soul! no guilt is thine:
Then firmly stand the shame of public clamour
Immoveable as fate hath fix'd its laws.
Ages roll on of man so independent,
That not one hour, strange circumstance, delight,
Nor even ill, he dare pronounce his own.
One suffers for another's act: again
He wins upon a brother's woe. The cause
Of this now-seeming discord is not known;
Yet from these jarring atoms rise a whole
Of harmony complete.—O righteous heav'n!
Strike! strike betwixt vile Canterb'ry and me,
To mock the jear of time; stun loud reproach,
False wit, and laughing insult; or I turn
Bewilder'd from thy justice—Impious thought!
Could man's weak arm arrest event, and turn
Time from progression, what disjointed rage
Would beat the world's fair bosom!—No, my soul
Shall guiltless bear this trying hour, nor blot
A life well spent, by nourishing revenge.
[Exit Alwine.
Enter King Edward, Archbishop of Canterbury, Monks, &c. &c.
Edward.
My Lord Archbishop, I approve your zeal,
Yet must lament the error of a queen.
O feeble woman! lost when unrestrain'd,
And virtuous but from terror, how may man
Believe you innocent? your 'witching smile
We will suspect, your cheerfulness condemn,
Your friendships taint with calumny, and plead
The friend you dare approve is meant for vice:
Thus shall you live suspected, ev'ry joy,
Tho' guiltless, be arraign'd by the hot fiend,
Inhuman Jealousy! your sex's freedom
Be lost, and tyranny alone secure you.
Canterbury
(smiling.)
[Aside.]
The worst security a man may choose.
Edward.
Should this sad punishment now fail our purpose,
How shall we henceforth judge of woman's faith?
21
That question kings or bishops ne'er can solve;
For virtue, the divinity within,
Cloath'd in her self-created radiance, smiles
Unseen on human judgment: yet, my liege,
Think woman needs example. Woman falls
If she but doubt our rules are not divine;
Then where's her basis, if we once permit
Her curious mind to stretch beyond our bound?
It must not be! custom and law are ours;
And when frail woman errs, we must enforce them.
Edward.
The work be thine—I'll shun the dreadful scene.
Canterbury.
'Twill ill become you to be absent: vice
Will shrink abash'd and glow with treble shame:
Your subjects will applaud a mind so pure,
So prone to justice; while religion shines
With double splendour, nourish'd by a king.
—Ye holy priests, whose piety can charm,
In scenes like this, the soul to resignation!
Haste to the joyless Emma, guide her on.
And sooth the riotous croud.
1st Priest.
Where may we meet?
Canterbury.
In the outward court, on the wide pavement, there
Lay the red ploughshares. Let the gates be thrown
Back on their hinges, lest the public eye
Meet with obstruction.
[Exit Priests.
Edward.
O thou awful pow'r!
That know'st the secret workings of my soul,
22
The praise be thine—but, if I err, forgive me.
Canterbury
(aside, smiling).
How prudently man bargains for his faults!
[Bell tolls.
Edward
(starting).
Why sounds that doleful bell?
Canterbury.
The church must aid
The sad solemnity—at once she blames
And mourns her erring daughter.
Edward.
Lead the way.
[Exeunt.
Enter Alwine.
Alwine.
Be calm, my injur'd soul! no guilt is thine:
Then firmly stand the shame of public clamour
Immoveable as fate hath fix'd its laws.
Ages roll on of man so independent,
That not one hour, strange circumstance, delight,
Nor even ill, he dare pronounce his own.
One suffers for another's act: again
He wins upon a brother's woe. The cause
Of this now-seeming discord is not known;
Yet from these jarring atoms rise a whole
Of harmony complete.—O righteous heav'n!
Strike! strike betwixt vile Canterb'ry and me,
To mock the jear of time; stun loud reproach,
False wit, and laughing insult; or I turn
Bewilder'd from thy justice—Impious thought!
Could man's weak arm arrest event, and turn
Time from progression, what disjointed rage
Would beat the world's fair bosom!—No, my soul
23
A life well spent, by nourishing revenge.
[Exit Alwine.
The whole of this speech has a sarcastic, not a serious meaning. Edward's conceptions of female excellence are narrow and resulting from ignorance; the language is accordingly adapted to his blind belief, that despotic rule over woman is infallible. How far the Prince is right, the cunning Prelate seems a proper judge.
| Earl Goodwin | |