Athulf.

'Twas not in craft.

Sidroc. Your pardon; in myself it would have been; But let me not misjudge thee by myself; For by a happy instinct art thou led

Unerringly and unsuspiciously,

When timid craft, too wary to be wise,
Would swerve for lack of blinkers.

Athulf.

Sidroc. Ay, and a lady with him-Room-make

room.

Here's the King.

[Exeunt.

Enter EDWIN and ELGIVA attired for the chase.
Elgiva. Remember that a king can take no step
That shall not measured be by rule and square
Of some too curious eye that follows him.

Edwin. We will be careful. Shall I tell thee, Love? The grim Archbishop came to me last night,

And with him Dunstan, and oh, Heaven and Earth, They preached me dead!

Elgiva.

What was it that they preached? Edwin. Alas, a thousand things! They said my

crown

Was not a myrtle-wreath, and kings were called,
As fathers of their lieges, to affect

All equally and favour none, nor loves
Nor friendships ever to permit themselves,
Save as commended to their royal hearts
By counsels grounded in state policy.

Elgiva. Oh! insolence of Churchmen! What a gift Of meddling is in Monks! What answer made you Edwin. I said, 'Lord Abbot, and my Lord Archbishop, My crown, of myrtle whether it may be,

Or as your hearts would have it, sirs, of thorns,
I wear not at your will, and with God's help
I trust that I shall friendship find and love,
Counsel and policy more kind and sage

Than yours, my Lord Archbishop, or than yours,
Lord Abbot Dunstan,'

Elgiva.

I am glad you spake

So frankly and so nobly-glad at heart!

Edwin. Lo! who comes here? 'Tis Dunstan, by my life!

Elgiva. And who is he behind?

Gurmo he is called.

Edwin. 'Tis a blue, swollen, unwholesome-looking knave, That ever follows him as plague doth famine.

Elgiva. Let's seem to see them not and wend our [Exeunt EDWIN and ELGIVA.

way.

Enter DUNSTAN and GURMO.

Dunstan. Lo there! a lovely couple hand in hand, But which of them is male Go to Harcather

Tell him the public letters I have writ
Directing the disbandment of his force
Import not present payment. It were well
He muster them from time to time to take
The guerdon promised, which, if I shall send
The monies, he may liquidate; if not
The fault is mine, and having not the means,
He needs must put them off, but ever, mark,
To some not distant day. Take horse to-night.

SCENE VII.-A forest.

THE KING, ATHULF and LEOLF, the CHANCELLOR CLARENBALD, the BISHOP OF ROCHESTER, and divers Earls and Thanes.

Clarenbald. To this then cleaving, let us bind ourselves

By oath so having in our hearts the will,

There shall the conscience clench it. My Lord Bishop The oath administers.

Leolf.

The sacred symbol.

This tree supplies

(Breaks two twigs from a tree, and transfixes them crosswise with the point of his sword, which he then presents to the BISHOP.)

The Bishop of Rochester. (Holding forth the cross to the
surrounding Nobles, who kneel and bow their heads towards it.)
On Austin's eve to crown your rightful King
Ye swear! If peril of your lands or life
Should stand between, ye swear of life and land
To take no count; but putting trust in Him
From whom the rights of Kings are derivate,
In its own blood to trample treason out,
And loyalty in liberty to raise.

This on this cross ye swear!
All.

We swear! We swear!

Edwin. And now my lieges, lords and friends, adieu! In very deed I thank you from my soul;

For in your looks I read that not alone

A common purpose joins you hand with hand,

But likewise that confederate hearts are here.
I thank you, sirs; adieu!

Clarenbald.

Disperse yourselves

In twos and threes; so severally seen

You will not prompt suspicion.

Leolf.

[Exeunt all but ATHULF and LEOLF. Athulf, stay.

I am for Sussex, there to raise my power.

Athulf. Your Seneschal is there; what needs your

self?

Leolf. Nor you nor I can longer blind ourselves.

I am needed nowhere.

Athulf.

Leolf, on my soul

What I do see, I see with grief and shame.

Leolf. Reproach her not; she is a child in years, And though in wit a woman, yet her heart, Untempered by the discipline of pain,

Is fancy-led. One half the fault was mine.
She is a child; and, look-upon my head
Already peepeth out the willowy grey.
My youth is wearing from me.

Athulf.

Nay, not so.

Leolf. And youth and sovereignty, with furtherance

fair

Of a seductive beauty in the boy,
What could they but prevail !

Athulf.

No child is she;

And if she were, is childhood then so false ?
She is weak of heart.

Leolf.

No more. For Hastings I !

No more-or, Athulf, but one word—but one-
To her I would not say it, but to thee,

My friend in all fidelity approved!

I-Athulf, she is gone from me for ever! . . .
But this remains... I can devote my life

To serve her and protect her... broken hearts
Have service in them still-Oh, more than strength
Is in the sad idolatry that haunts

The ruinous fane of their deserted faith !

I can adore her, serve her, shield her, die. . .
I pray you pardon me... Is shame no more?
I should be silent, for I am not licensed
To either dotage-that of youth nor age.
Athulf. Oh, Leolf! oh, my friend!
Leolf.
Quit we the theme.
But from my griefs and me this counsel take :
Expend the passion of thy heart in youth;
Fight thy love-battles whilst thy heart is strong,
And wounds heal kindlily. An April frost
Is sharp, but kills not; sad October's storm
Strikes when the juices and the vital sap
Are ebbing from the leaf. No more! My men
Shall stand in readiness; but for myself,
Unless a martial opposition call,

I would the King might please to pardon me,
If I appear not on St. Austin's eve.

Athulf. I'll say that you are shaken in your health :

This shall suffice-I would it were less true.

Leolf. You'll hear, and that ere long, my native air Hath done its work restorative. Farewell.

Clarenbald. I swear such terror did I never see
Amongst a King's retainers! my old blood
Sprang to my wrinkles, where it had not been
These fifty years! One said that he was sick;
Another's wife was dead; a third would go,
But he must have a warrant signed and sealed.
'Good carpet-knights!' quoth I, 'not one of you
Shall do this errand; for a fainting will,

A gasping utterance and a frightened face
Shall not be bearers of the King's commands
To Dunstan.'

Edwin.

You said well; no timorous heart

Shall figure me in this.

Clarenbald.

To do them right,

They'd charge a Northman in his coat of proof
And flinch not; but this Shaveling's meagre face,
With his mass-hackle and his reef and stole,
Puts all to flight.

Edwin.

Ask him to go.

Lo here's my cousin Athulf.

Enter ATHULF.

Clarenbald. My lord, well met! The King
Would wish his pleasure signified to Dunstan
Touching his coronation. Some there be
That blink the service, lest through sorceries
And conjurations of the villanous Abbot,

A curse should cross them; but thy brain, we know,
Brooks not such vain bewilderments.

Athulf.

I vow,

Meat to my mouth goes not with better speed
Than I upon this errand.

Clarenbald.

Excellent!

Abounding in all fortitude of soul

I ever knew you. Here's St. Tibba's thumb,