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Ethwald

A Tragedy, In Five Acts. Part First
  
  

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SCENE IV.
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SCENE IV.

An open space, with arms, garments, and other spoils of the Britons heaped up on every side of the stage. Enter Soldiers, and range themselves in order; then enter Ethelbert and a Soldier, talking as they enter.
Eth.
Ethwald among his soldiers, dost thou say,
Divides his spoil?

Sol.
He does, most bountifully;
Nor to himself more than a soldier's share
Retains, he is so gen'rous and so noble.

Eth.
I thank thee, friend.
[Soldier retires. (After a pause.)
I like not this: behind those heaps I'll stand,
And mark the manner of this distribution.

[Retires.
Enter Alwy and a petty Thane.
Alwy.
Brave warriors! ye are come at his desire,
Who for each humble soldier, bold in arms,
That has beneath his orders fought, still bears
A brother's heart. You see these goodly spoils:
He gives them not unto the cloister'd priests:
His soldiers pray for him.

[Soldiers shout.
Thane
(to Alwy).
What is thy meaning?

Alwy.
Knowest thou not the king has now bestow'd
The chiefest portion of his British spoil
On Alban's abbey?

Enter Ethwald.
(Soldiers shouting very loud.)
Long live brave Ethwald! health to noble Ethwald!

Ethw.
Thanks for these kindly greetings, valiant hearts!
[Soldiers shout again very loud.
In truth I stand before you, brave companions,

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Somewhat asham'd; for with my wishes match'd,
These hands are poor and empty.
[Loud acclamations.
I thank you all again; for well I see
You have respect unto the dear good will
That must enrich these heaps of homely stuff.

Soldiers.
Long live our gen'rous leader!

Ethw.
(giving a soldier a helmet filled with lots).
Here, take the lots and deal them fairly round.
Heaven send to all of you, my valiant friends,
A portion to your liking. This rough heap
[Pointing to the arms.
Will give at least to each some warlike trophy,
Which henceforth, hung upon his humble walls,
Shall tell his sons and grandsons yet to come
In what proud fields, and with what gallant mates
Their father fought. And I, methinks, well pleas'd,
Resting, as heretofore I oft have done,
My wand'ring steps beneath your friendly roofs,
Shall, looking up, the friendly token spy,
And in my host a fellow soldier hail.

Soldiers
(with loud acclamations).
God bless you, noble chief! unto the death
We'll hold to you, brave leader!

Ethw.
And if to you I hold not, valiant Mercians,
No noble chief am I. This motley gear,
[Pointing to the spoils.
Would it were all composed of precious things,
That to his gentle wife or favour'd maid,
Each soldier might have borne some goodly gift!
But tell them, British matrons cross the woof
With coarser hands than theirs.

1st sol.
Saint Alban bless his noble countenance!
'Twas fashion'd for bestowing.

2d sol.
Heav'n store his halls with wealth!

Ethw.
(going familiarly amongst the soldiers as the lots are drawing).
Well, Ogar, hast thou drawn? good luck to thee.
And thou, good Baldwin, too? Yet fie upon it!
The heaviest weapon of the British host
Lacks weight of metal for thy sinewy arm.—
Ha! health to thee, mine old and honest host!
I'm glad to see thee with thine arm unbound.
And ruddy too! thy dame should give me thanks:
I send thee home to her a younger man
Than I receiv'd thee. (To the soldier with the lots who is passing him.)

Nay, stay thee, friend, I pray, nor pass me o'er,
We all must share alike: hold out thy cap.
[Smiling as he draws.
The knave would leave me out.

[Loud acclamations, the soldiers surrounding him and clashing their arms.
Enter Selred and Followers.
Sel.
(to sol.)
Ha! whence comes all this uproar?

Sol.
Know you not?
Your noble brother 'midst his soldiers shares
His British spoils.

Sel.
The grateful knaves! is all their joy for this?
[To his followers.
Well, go and add to it my portion also;
'Twill make them roar the louder. Do it quickly.

[Exit.
Soldiers
(looking after Sel.).
Heaven bless him
too, plain, honest, careless soul!
He gives as though he gave not.
[Loud acclamations.
Long live brave Ethwald, and the noble Selred!

Ethw.
(aside to Alwy, displeased).
How came he here?

Alwy.
I cannot tell.

Ethw.
(to sol.)
We are confined within this narrow space:
Go range yourselves at large on yon green sward,
And there we'll spread the lots.

[Exeunt; the soldiers arranging themselves as they go.