You have another and a better son;
Though this should not deserve to reign nor live,--
As he is truly dead in his offence
Already, yea and stinketh,-yet should that
Applausively succeed. I say no more;
But leave to me the working out God's will
Touching them both.
My lord, yourself was witness
How hardy and how stout he was against me,
And how most filthily by word of mouth
He spat upon me, so to say, and rail'd
Foully with evil speaking from his heart,
Renouncing and disowning me for aye,
Likewise the ten commandments.
Yet, my lord,
He is my son-this womb did bring him forth-
You know not what it is to be a mother;
I do beseech you, spare him!
For God's behoof, or yours, or his, or whose?
Queen Mother. Speak, my lord Primate; bid him
to spare my son.
Dunstan. Who biddeth me?
Lord Abbot, by mine office
I might be bold to speak by way of bidding;
Yet still remembering thine unrivall❜d merits
And services to God, I say but this:
The times are evil; accidents may come
Yielding occasion of exceeding malice
With havoc to the Church and injury
And backward sliding, if beyond the range
Of Christian prudence, through inordinate zeal,
We push our present promise of success.
For of one colour though the city be,
And neighbouring shires the same, still is the land,
Eastward and northward specially, a web
Diversely diaper'd; for here the weft
Is spun of light and dipp'd in dyes of heaven;
There, dyed in Styx and spun of Satan's slaver.
We may not think that Athulf, who is held
To number twenty thousand, will be scared
By caps of citizens toss'd up i̇' the air;
Nor may we count upon the citizens' caps
For courses which may seem to some extreme.
Wherefore behoves us so to use success
As not to raise against us those, though erring,
Whose honest zeal stands stoutly for the crown,
Demanding strict succession.
Be content.
Though neither law nor usage of the realm
Did ever yet demand what these demand,
Nor ever yet did honesty so err,
Still have I ponder'd all. The godless King
Shall abdicate; he shall not be removed.
Odo. If reason should so work with him at length That such should be his choice, 'twere excellent. Dunstan. Since he was crown'd, experience, by my hand
Directed, hath admonish'd him to deem
The state of kings unenviable. Now
He shall be tutor❜d to perceive the joys
Of privateness, best fitted for his years.
pray you meddle not. Nor, Madam, you.
SCENE III-A Precinct of the Tower.
ETHILDA and EMMA.
Ethilda. They will not; for they say that I am watch'd,
And to find entrance to the King for me
Should bring a double danger; but for you
They would attempt it. At the hour of nones
The Abbot will be with him, after which
You will have least to fear.
Stand in the doorway, terror is there none
Can let or hinder me.
Emma. Fled with Earl Sidroc. We shall meet ere
SCENE IV.-A Chamber in the Tower.
What need for you to ask?
Dunstan. How does your grace?
Let me remind you of an antique verse :
What sent the messengers to hell
Was asking what they knew full well.
You know that I am ill and very weak.
Dunstan. You do not answer with a weaken'd wit.
Is there offence in this my visitation ?
And yet I would not you should go. Offence
Is better than this blank of solitude.
I am so weary of no company,
That I could almost welcome to these walls
The Devil and his angels. You may stay.
Dunstan. What makes you weak ? Do
your food,
Or have you not enough?
Edwin.
Enough is brought;
But he that brings it drops what seems to say
That it is mix'd with poison-some slow drug;
So that I scarce dare eat and hunger always.
Dunstan. Your food is poison'd by your own suspicions. 'Tis your own fault. Though Gurmo's zeal is great, It is impossible he should so exceed
As to put poison in your food,-I think.
But thus it is with kings; suspicions haunt
And dangers press around them all their days;
Ambition galls them, luxury corrupts,
And wars and treasons are their talk at table.
Edwin. This homily you should read to prosperous kings;
It is not needed for a king like me.
Dunstan. Who shall read homilies to a prosperous king!
'Twas not long since that thou didst seem to prosper,
And then I warn'd thee; and with what event
Thou knowest; for thy heart was high in pride.
A hope that, like Salomé, danced before thee
Did ask my head. But I reproach thee not.
Much rather would I, seeing thee abased,
Lift up thy mind to wisdom.
It was not in my thoughts to take thy head;
But should I reign again... Come then, this wisdom
That thou wouldst teach me; harmless as the dove
I have been whilome; let me now, though late,
To thy credulous ears
The world, or what is to a king the world,
The triflers of thy court, have imaged me
As cruel and insensible to joy,
Austere and ignorant of all delights
That arts can minister. Far from the truth
They wander who say thus. I but denounce
Loves on a throne and pleasures out of place.
I am not old; not twenty years have fled
Since I was young as thou; and in my youth
I was not by those pleasures unapproach'd
Which youth converses with.
How came they in thy sight?
Attempted me, 'twas in a woman's shape;
Such shape as may have erst misled mankind
When Greece or Rome uprear'd with Pagan rites
Temples to Venus, pictured there or carved
With rounded, polish'd, and exuberant grace,
And mien whose dimpled changefulness betray'd
Through jocund hues the seriousness of passion.
I was attempted thus, and Satan sang
With female pipe and melodies that thrill'd
The soften'd soul, of mild voluptuous ease
And tender sports that chased the kindling hours
In odorous gardens or on terraces
To music of the fountains and the birds,
Or else in skirting groves by sunshine smitten
Or warm winds kiss'd, whilst we from shine to shade
Roved unregarded. Yes, 'twas Satan sang,
Because 'twas sung to me, whom God had call'd
To other pastime and severer joys.
But were it not for this, God's strict behest
Enjoin'd upon me,—had I not been vow'd
To holiest service rigorously required,
I should have own'd it for an angel's voice,
Nor ever could an earthly crown, or toys
And childishness of vain ambition, gauds
And tinsels of the world, have lured my heart
Into the tangle of those mortal cares
That gather round a throne. What call is thine
From God or man, what voice within bids thee
Such pleasures to forego, such cares confront?
Edwin. What voice? My kingdom's voice-my
people's cry,
Whom ye devour the wail of shepherds true
Over their flocks, those godly, kindly priests
That love my people and love me withal-
Their voice requires me, and the voice of kings
Who died with honour and who live in me,
The voice of Egbert, Ethelbert, and Alfred.
What wouldst thou more? the voice of kings unborn
To whom my sceptre and my blood descends--
A thousand voices call me.
Dunstan.
The voices of this people and those kings
Call on Prince Edgar, not on thee, to reign.
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