WOMEN.

ELGIVA, Cousin to Edwin the Fair and afterwards Queen.

ETHILDA, Sister to Edwin the Fair.

GUNNILDA, Queen Mother.

EMMA, Daughter to Wulfstan the Wise.

EDWIN THE FAIR.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Forest. A Swineherd tending his swine,

Swineherd (sings).

The hog he munched the acorns brown

Till joyfully twinkled his tail,

And he twitched himself up and he tossed himself down,
And he wriggled and reeled and galloped and squealed,

As though he were drunk with ale:

For you shall know that what by ale or wine

To man is done, that acorns do to swine.

Ah! it was so.

Alack-a-day! so it was once.

Enter a Forester.

Forester. Grunt! grunt! No end to swine. Why, here's a herd!

Beech-mast is scarce. Routing and grunting. Ho!

Who's here?

Swineherd. A sinful unconsolable man,

The swineherd Ulf.

Forester.

And man is sinful.

Why, swineherds are but men,

Ulf, what grief is his ?

This is a world of ever-growing griefs.

Swineherd. His grief, Sir, is a grief touching his swine,

Which swine have lost their appetites.

Forester.

How so?

Swineherd. The how, Sir, is a tale that moves to pity,

And if you list to hearken, it was thus:

Last Tuesday week, the vigil of St. Swithin,
Up in the branches of an ancient tree,

I perched myself for shade, and there the wind
Rocking the bough and snoring in my ears,
It so mishappened that I slid asleep.
When I awoke my herd had wandered far,
And far had I to follow, till, God's love!
Belated in the dusky forest's verge

I found them much amazed, a furlong's length,
No more, from where the holy Dunstan dwells,
Scourging his wasted body half the night,

And wrestling with the Evil One.

Forester.

A tickle neighbourhood was that.

Swineherd.

Wish you well!

"Out swine!"

Quoth I, "ye villains, will ye run to the pit,
And I to follow!" And with might and speed

I drave them back; but volleying behind
There came such howls as scared us to the heart,
And to my humble thinking, since that hour

We have not had that stomach for our food,
That hearty hunger and that natural joy

In eating, that we wont to have.

Forester.

Such howls!

What howls? The Devil's were they, or were they Dunstan's?

Swineherd. Sir, I have ears unskilful to discern

Betwixt the twain. They might have come from either; For Dunstan his own back not less belabours

Than he belabours Satan.

Forester.

Ay, 'tis true;

A holy man is he and gives his life
Simply to crucify the lusts o' the flesh

And mastery over evil spirits achieve.

But wist ye that he hurt the swine? Pooh! no.
Not he.

Swineherd. I know not.

Forester.

Thou say'st well thou know'st not,

For thou know'st nothing; thou art an ignorant swine

herd.

'Tis not thy swine alone; through all the land

Swine have the murrain, dogs are sick o' the mange,
Rot kills the sheep, and horses die o' the staggers;
With rust and mildew droops the earing corn,
Swarm orchards with the snail, gardens with grubs;
And shortly, man and beast and herb o' the field
Are stricken with a thousand plagues and blights
Straight from the hand of God.

Swineherd.

Swine, didst thou say?

Swine have the murrain! Is it come to that?

Prithee, why so?

Forester.

It is but our deserts.

To please the young, misguided, heedless King,
Our monks of Malmesbury, those righteous men
That ever were at work with book and bell
Praying and fasting, and with thong and scourge
Their flesh tormenting, have been rooted out,
And in their place vile Seculars are planted,
A hunting, dancing, and carousing horde,

With wenches that they call their wives forsooth!
Oh shame to clerks, that they should wive and bed
And lead their lives so beastly! Woe is me !
What but a curse could light upon the land
When holiest men that wont to serve the poor
With alms unceasing, beg their bread themselves,
And lewdest prosper! Softly-stand aside;
Here comes a nobleman, if we may guess
By his attendance. Canst thou yet discern
His cognisance? Earl Athulf, as I live!

Enter ATHULF.

Athulf. Save you, good friends! How far may't be to Kingston ?

Forester. An hour, my Lord, or little more.

'Tis late,

Or you might take the road by Warlewood Chase : 'Tis some mile shorter.