 | Edwin the Fair |  |
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Scene V.
—A Chamber in the Archbishop's Palace.Wulfstan the Wise and Sigeric, the Archbishop's Secretary.
Sigeric.
With both these puissant Earls, as I hear say,
You have been inward.
Wulfstan.
Yea, Sir, in my time;
With Athulf formerly, with Leolf always.
Sigeric.
Earl Athulf is a merry man accounted.
Wulfstan.
Much mirth he hath, and yet less mirth than fancy;
His is that nature of humanity
Which both ways doth redound, rejoicing now
With soarings of the soul, anon brought low:
For such the law that rules the larger spirits.
This soul of man, this elemental crasis,
Completed, should present the universe
Abounding in all kinds; and unto all
One law is common,—that their act and reach
Stretched to the farthest is resilient ever
And in resilience hath its plenary force.
Against the gust remitting fiercelier burns
The fire, than with the gust it burnt before.
The richest mirth, the richest sadness too,
Stands from a groundwork of its opposite;
For these extremes upon the way to meet
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Harvests of sundry seasons.
Sigeric.
These two Earls
Are, certes, the prime spirits of the age.
Yet hardly may we either Earl esteem
A match for Dunstan. From his youth devote
To books, with chemic and mechanic art
Searching the core of things; and then caught up
To Edred's court and favour, studying there
The ways of men and policies of States,
No marvel from such training that he took
An applicable mind; and were he not
Pushed sometimes past the confine of his reason
He would o'ertop the world.
Wulfstan.
Sir, could he sway
His proper passions, he were lord of all.
But he is more their captive than the King,
Poor innocent! is his.
Sigeric.
When others storm
Then only is he calm. 'Twas thought at first
That when the King stood out against the terms
And would not sign, his life would pay the price.
But Dunstan went more craftily to work;
A wasting diet, with perpetual fear
And solitude, he made his ministers,
Himself desisting.
Wulfstan.
His, Sir, you shall find
A spirit subdolous, though full of fire.
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Which creature is an adept not alone
In workmanship of nice geometry,
But is besides a wary politician:
He, when his prey is taken in the toils,
Withholds himself until its strength be spent
With struggles, and its spirit with despair;
Then with a patient and profound delight
Forth from his ambush stalks.
Sigeric.
But Dunstan's web
Is woven with a difference. He shrinks,
'Tis said, from taking life, unless inflamed
By anger, or by exigency pressed;
This softness hath he still.
Enter Emma.
Emma.
Why halt you here?
The doors are opened to the ante-room,
It will be crowded soon; I pray you, come.
Earl Sidroc, in a Notary's apparel,
Will follow you, and waits you here without.
Sigeric.
You have the Archbishop's pass?
Wulfstan.
Yes, here it is.
Emma.
I can pass too; I have cajoled with smiles
The High Gerefa's man that keeps the door.
How tardy old friends are; how prompt are new!
Taken in the flower and freshness of good-will
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Into some risk to please me. On my back
He'll put a surplice, and amongst the choir
I sing the psalm. But linger not, I pray.
Sigeric.
The passage to the left—I think you know it.
Come, I will show you.
Emma.
I beseech you, Sir,
When you address the Synod, wander not;
Be mindful of the purpose.
Wulfstan.
Yes, my child;
I'll sit the purpose close. Truly a light
That shines not in its place is worse than none;
And when the thought is prized above the purpose,
'Tis Jack o' the Lanthorn speaks. Oh, Sir, your pardon!
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