What need for you to ask?

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 weakened wit.

Is there offence in this my visitation ?

If so, I leave you.

And yet I would not

EDWIN.

Yes, there is offence.

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?
Or have you not enough?

Do you not like your food,

EDWIN.

Enough is brought;

But he that brings it drops what seems to say
That it is mixed with poison-some slow drug;
So that I scarce dare eat, and hunger always.

DUNSTAN.

Your food is poisoned by your own suspicions.
'Tis your own fault. Tho' 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 warned thee; and with what event
Thou knowest; for thy heart was high in pride.
A hope that, like Herodias, 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.

EDWIN.

Heretofore

It was not in my thoughts to take thy head;

But should I reign again... Come then, this wisdom

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 unapproached

Which youth converses with.

EDWIN.

No! wast thou not?

How came they in thy sight?

DUNSTAN.

When Satan first

Attempted me, 'twas in a woman's shape;

Such shape as may have erst misled mankind,
When Greece or Rome upreared with Pagan rites
Temples to Venus, pictured there or carved
With rounded, polished, and exuberant grace,
And mien whose dimpled changefulness betrayed,
Thro' jocund hues, the seriousness of passion.
I was attempted thus, and Satan sang
With female pipe and melodies that thrilled
The softened 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 kissed, whilst we from shine to shade

Roved unregarded. Yes, 'twas Satan sang,

Because 'twas sung to me, whom God had called
To other pastime and severer joys.

But were it not for this, God's strict behest
Enjoined upon me,—had I not been vowed
To holiest service rigorously required,

I should have owned 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