 | Earl Goodwin |  |
SCENE, The Palace.
Enter King Edward and Lodowicke.
Edward.
Think'st thou the men of Kent will raise their tythe?
Lodowicke.
My gentle liege, your subjects are enrag'd,
Profaning all our laws, swearing 'tis craft
To level tribute with a holy leer
Upon the sweating husbandman.
Edward.
There's wealth
Sufficient yet in Kent; ten thousand marks
We need. This county, own'd by Goodwin, thrives
With affluence, weigh'd with royalty itself.
Whate'er his friendship, he may not refuse
His native county should obey our laws.
Lodowicke.
That he'll refuse, I'll fearless wage my head.
But there are means to make him silent.
Edward.
How?
Lodowicke.
Suppose we excommunicate him?
Edward.
That
He ever laugh'd at.
Lodowicke.
Then suppose him dead:
May there not be in Goodwin's death, effects
So liberally extensive in their course,
That they may throw into the world's great scale
Such quantity of matter, that the good
To man may more than balance with the ill,
Which is but partial unto him?—I speak
Purely on supposition.
Edward.
Yet thy words
Steal with a force most subtle to the thought,
Raising conjecture of a motley hue.
What man e'er dy'd by a king's wish?
Lodowicke.
A few
Have thus obey'd?
Edward
(aside).
What means this priest?
Lodowicke.
When kings
Must dread a subject, why the choice remains
Which of the two may die.
Edward.
I am convinc'd (Aside).
Abate thy zeal for me. Earl Goodwin's truth
I ever will revere. What! tho' we jarr
In nice opinion, he despising form,
And I most strenuously adhering to it,
Yet would I wage my soul in dreadful lay
Against the heav'n I hope for, that he'd scorn
To take the life of Edward.
Lodowicke.
So would I,
And yet for diff'rent reasons (Aside).
But forgive
My love too ill advis'd; I meant not aught
Seriously striking at the life of Goodwin.
Alas, my king! how could thy justice quit
Thy servant Lodowicke, when join'd in pray'r
With those who sigh for mercy—he being full
Of guile and cruelty?
Edward.
I should abhor thee.
Enter Goodwin and Harold.
Welcome, my friends! again we meet in peace;
No doubt shall henceforth rise, but Edward's act
Find aid from Goodwin's counsel, and the cares
Of royalty be eas'd by gentle friendship.
Goodwin.
Tostie's wild conduct wounds me: yet my sword
Shall still be thine—Goodwin will ne'er indulge
Affection at the cost of virtue. Harold,
I charge thee, when death seals my weary eyes,
To love thy king; his spirit is too mild
For rough exertion. In the field protect him;
Lead on his armies; chase the insect train,
Who sting while they are buzzing in the ear
Of unsuspecting royalty. Be just,
Sincere, and candid in thy friendship to him,
Nor trifle with his real good.
Harold.
May Heav'n
Renounce me if I swerve from truth!
Edward.
Enough!
My brother Harold ever shall be near
My heart; his confidence I will deserve,
By taking it in pure exchange for mine.
Goodwin.
Where is Editha?
Edward.
Waiting thy return
With fond impatience.
Goodwin.
Bring me to her straight.
Enter Editha, Swaine, and Leofwine.
Editha.
My father!
Goodwin.
Do I hold thee?—Oh, Editha!
Lodowicke.
Curse on this soft'ning scene! they drag my soul
Back from the horrid act I must perform.
[Exit Lodowicke.
Goodwin.
From this blest æra thou shalt date thy bliss,
And in thy Edward's love be happy. Time
Will but improve his gentleness to thee.
Be ever, ever blest.
Enter Emma.
Emma.
Are ye not slow,
My noble lords? the banquet waits; our friends,
The valiant Leofricke, Siward, and Girth,
With Rodulfe, have too long expected you:
The witty Siward rallies Lodowicke,
Swearing with very fasting he looks pale.
Edward.
Siward is of most light and chearful nature;
Sorrow ne'er low'ring sits on his smooth brow.
Good mother, we'll attend you. Come, my love.
Goodwin.
Go on, my sons, I'll follow.—Stay, Editha.
[Exit all but Goodwin and Editha.
I feel a strange oppression here; my heart
Would share those sorrows it can ne'er throw off
With thee. Iknow not why, yet busy thought
Brings on thy mother's image: sweetness, truth,
Thy ev'ry charm was her's. Fain would I chase
The beauteous shadow from my pensive mind,
That vainly follows me thro' this poor world.
Soon, very soon, if spirits may exist,
I sure shall meet her.
Editha.
Cease! I pray you, cease!
Why dwell on scenes that never can return,
Checking the present hour's best joy? Could man
Be wisely cautious how he rang'd the past,
Would he not shun the path mark'd out by woe,
Nor drag the spectre from the shades of time?
Goodwin.
Thy voice like melody prevails, and charms
The mind to sweet forgetfulness.—Yet hear,
I'm swiftly leaving the strong heights of fate,
And in the deep descent, e'en you, Editha,
Are less'ning to my view. It must be so!
When I am gone, be sure thou keep thy hold
Of sacred virtue; let not insult, scorn,
Slighted affection, or, what's worse, the sting
Of black ingratitude from those thou lov'st,
Rob thee of self-applause. Repentance comes
A late and painful comforter. 'Tis brave
To give our wishes up when they are snares;
But we are slaves when error claims atonement.
Editha.
Your precepts and example shall inspire me.
Only this night be happy; crown the joy
Of those who love you.
Goodwin.
Mem'ry's outstretch'd wing
Spreads o'er my life, takes in my infant hours,
Youth's ardent scene, ripe manhood's fearless stage,
So soon ran o'er, and all is vision.
Editha.
Mirth,
Friendship, and filial love, shall cheer your mind,
When you behold your children blest. To you
We'll turn amid our highest joy; on you
We'll gaze, while grateful tears in silence speak
How much we love you; and your gen'rous heart
Shall share the transport you bestow.
Goodwin.
Thy hand,
My lov'd Editha; lead me to the king.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lodowicke with a Phial.
Lodowicke.
Not yet! not yet! O pity! fly my soul,
Nor shriek at my resolve!—Once done, I'll hear thee.
In this small phial lies eternal sleep
For him who tastes;—for me it holds ambition,
Wealth, world-subduing sway, and sov'reign rule.
Goodwin remov'd, the bigot Edward yields
To my conducting.—Why this doubtful pause?
This strong reluctance?—Ye who dare deny
The spirit's working in this solid flesh,
Assist me!—Come, ye sophists, who are wont
To plead that neither good or ill can rest
On mortal act, and laugh me to the work!
I need internal strength—What pow'r shall give it?
Who gives it is the cause, and I'm approv'd.
[Exit.
Enter King Edward and Lodowicke.
Edward.
Think'st thou the men of Kent will raise their tythe?
Lodowicke.
My gentle liege, your subjects are enrag'd,
Profaning all our laws, swearing 'tis craft
To level tribute with a holy leer
Upon the sweating husbandman.
Edward.
There's wealth
Sufficient yet in Kent; ten thousand marks
We need. This county, own'd by Goodwin, thrives
With affluence, weigh'd with royalty itself.
Whate'er his friendship, he may not refuse
His native county should obey our laws.
Lodowicke.
That he'll refuse, I'll fearless wage my head.
But there are means to make him silent.
Edward.
How?
75
Suppose we excommunicate him?
Edward.
That
He ever laugh'd at.
Lodowicke.
Then suppose him dead:
May there not be in Goodwin's death, effects
So liberally extensive in their course,
That they may throw into the world's great scale
Such quantity of matter, that the good
To man may more than balance with the ill,
Which is but partial unto him?—I speak
Purely on supposition.
Edward.
Yet thy words
Steal with a force most subtle to the thought,
Raising conjecture of a motley hue.
What man e'er dy'd by a king's wish?
Lodowicke.
A few
Have thus obey'd?
Edward
(aside).
What means this priest?
Lodowicke.
When kings
Must dread a subject, why the choice remains
Which of the two may die.
Edward.
I am convinc'd (Aside).
Abate thy zeal for me. Earl Goodwin's truth
I ever will revere. What! tho' we jarr
In nice opinion, he despising form,
And I most strenuously adhering to it,
76
Against the heav'n I hope for, that he'd scorn
To take the life of Edward.
Lodowicke.
So would I,
And yet for diff'rent reasons (Aside).
But forgive
My love too ill advis'd; I meant not aught
Seriously striking at the life of Goodwin.
Alas, my king! how could thy justice quit
Thy servant Lodowicke, when join'd in pray'r
With those who sigh for mercy—he being full
Of guile and cruelty?
Edward.
I should abhor thee.
Enter Goodwin and Harold.
Welcome, my friends! again we meet in peace;
No doubt shall henceforth rise, but Edward's act
Find aid from Goodwin's counsel, and the cares
Of royalty be eas'd by gentle friendship.
Goodwin.
Tostie's wild conduct wounds me: yet my sword
Shall still be thine—Goodwin will ne'er indulge
Affection at the cost of virtue. Harold,
I charge thee, when death seals my weary eyes,
To love thy king; his spirit is too mild
For rough exertion. In the field protect him;
Lead on his armies; chase the insect train,
Who sting while they are buzzing in the ear
Of unsuspecting royalty. Be just,
Sincere, and candid in thy friendship to him,
Nor trifle with his real good.
Harold.
May Heav'n
Renounce me if I swerve from truth!
77
Enough!
My brother Harold ever shall be near
My heart; his confidence I will deserve,
By taking it in pure exchange for mine.
Goodwin.
Where is Editha?
Edward.
Waiting thy return
With fond impatience.
Goodwin.
Bring me to her straight.
Enter Editha, Swaine, and Leofwine.
Editha.
My father!
Goodwin.
Do I hold thee?—Oh, Editha!
Lodowicke.
Curse on this soft'ning scene! they drag my soul
Back from the horrid act I must perform.
[Exit Lodowicke.
Goodwin.
From this blest æra thou shalt date thy bliss,
And in thy Edward's love be happy. Time
Will but improve his gentleness to thee.
Be ever, ever blest.
Enter Emma.
Emma.
Are ye not slow,
My noble lords? the banquet waits; our friends,
The valiant Leofricke, Siward, and Girth,
With Rodulfe, have too long expected you:
78
Swearing with very fasting he looks pale.
Edward.
Siward is of most light and chearful nature;
Sorrow ne'er low'ring sits on his smooth brow.
Good mother, we'll attend you. Come, my love.
Goodwin.
Go on, my sons, I'll follow.—Stay, Editha.
[Exit all but Goodwin and Editha.
I feel a strange oppression here; my heart
Would share those sorrows it can ne'er throw off
With thee. Iknow not why, yet busy thought
Brings on thy mother's image: sweetness, truth,
Thy ev'ry charm was her's. Fain would I chase
The beauteous shadow from my pensive mind,
That vainly follows me thro' this poor world.
Soon, very soon, if spirits may exist,
I sure shall meet her.
Editha.
Cease! I pray you, cease!
Why dwell on scenes that never can return,
Checking the present hour's best joy? Could man
Be wisely cautious how he rang'd the past,
Would he not shun the path mark'd out by woe,
Nor drag the spectre from the shades of time?
Goodwin.
Thy voice like melody prevails, and charms
The mind to sweet forgetfulness.—Yet hear,
I'm swiftly leaving the strong heights of fate,
And in the deep descent, e'en you, Editha,
Are less'ning to my view. It must be so!
When I am gone, be sure thou keep thy hold
Of sacred virtue; let not insult, scorn,
Slighted affection, or, what's worse, the sting
79
Rob thee of self-applause. Repentance comes
A late and painful comforter. 'Tis brave
To give our wishes up when they are snares;
But we are slaves when error claims atonement.
Editha.
Your precepts and example shall inspire me.
Only this night be happy; crown the joy
Of those who love you.
Goodwin.
Mem'ry's outstretch'd wing
Spreads o'er my life, takes in my infant hours,
Youth's ardent scene, ripe manhood's fearless stage,
So soon ran o'er, and all is vision.
Editha.
Mirth,
Friendship, and filial love, shall cheer your mind,
When you behold your children blest. To you
We'll turn amid our highest joy; on you
We'll gaze, while grateful tears in silence speak
How much we love you; and your gen'rous heart
Shall share the transport you bestow.
Goodwin.
Thy hand,
My lov'd Editha; lead me to the king.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lodowicke with a Phial.
Lodowicke.
Not yet! not yet! O pity! fly my soul,
Nor shriek at my resolve!—Once done, I'll hear thee.
In this small phial lies eternal sleep
For him who tastes;—for me it holds ambition,
80
Goodwin remov'd, the bigot Edward yields
To my conducting.—Why this doubtful pause?
This strong reluctance?—Ye who dare deny
The spirit's working in this solid flesh,
Assist me!—Come, ye sophists, who are wont
To plead that neither good or ill can rest
On mortal act, and laugh me to the work!
I need internal strength—What pow'r shall give it?
Who gives it is the cause, and I'm approv'd.
[Exit.
| Earl Goodwin | |