Our silence is our reverence for the king! Harold. Earl of the Mercians! if the truth be gall, Cram me not thou with honey, when our good hive Needs every sting to save it. Voices. Aldwyth Aldwyth! Harold. Why cry thy people on thy sister's name? Morcar. She hath won upon our people thro' her beauty, And pleasantness among them. Voices. Aldwyth, Aldwyth ! Harold. They shout as they would have her for a queen. Morcar. She hath follow'd with our host, and suffer'd all. Harold. What would ye, men? Voice. Our old Northumbrian crown And kings of our own choosing. Harold. Your old crown Were little help without our Saxon carles Against Hardrada. Voice. To Wulfnoth, a poor cow-herd. Harold. This old Wulfnoth Would take me on his knees and tell me tales Of Alfred and of Athelstan the Great Who drove you Danes; and yet he held that Dane, Jute, Angle, Saxon, were or should be all Not made but born, like the great King of all, A light among the oxen. Voice. Was great, and cobbled. Voice. Thou art Tostig's brother, Who wastes the land. To help the realm from scattering. Wild was he, born so: but the plots against him Had madden'd tamer men. Morcar. Thou art one of those Who brake into Lord Tostig's treasurehouse And slew two hundred of his following, And now, when Tostig hath come back with power, Are frighted back to Tostig. Old Thane. Ugh! Plots and feuds! This is my ninetieth birthday. Can ye not Be brethren? Godwin still at feud with Alfgar, There is a faction risen again for Tostig, Since Tostig came with Norway - fright not love. Harold. Morcar and Edwin, will ye, if I yield, And Alfgar hates King Harold. Plots Follow against the Norseman ? Morcar. Surely, surely! Harold. Morcar and Edwin, will ye upon oath Help us against the Norman ? Morcar. With good will; Yea, take the Sacrament upon it, king. Harold. Where is thy sister? Morcar. Somewhere hard at hand, Call and she comes. [One goes out, then enter ALDWYTH. Harold. I doubt not but thou knowest Why thou art summon'd. Aldwyth. Why?—I stay with these, Lest thy fierce Tostig spy me out alone, And flay me all alive. Harold. Didst thou not love thine husband? I knew him brave: he loved his land: Where lie the Norsemen on the Der For Norway's army. I am foraging Harold. I could take and slay thee. Thou art in arms against us. Tostig. Take and slay me, For Edward loved me. Harold. Edward bade me spare thee. Tostig. I hate King Edward, for he join'd with thee To drive me outlaw'd. Take and slay me, I say, Or I shall count thee fool. Harold. Take thee, or free thee, Free thee or slay thee, Norway will have war; No man would strike with Tostig, save for Norway. Thou art nothing in thine England, save for Norway, Who loves not thee but war. What dost thou here, Trampling thy mother's bosom into blood? Harold. Northumbria threw thee off, | Of wedding had been dash'd into the she will not have thee, cups Thou hast misused her; and, O crown- Of victory, and our marriage and thy ing crime! Hast murder'd thine own guest, the son of Orm, Gamel, at thine own hearth. Tostig. The slow, fat fool! He drawl'd and prated so, I sinote him suddenly: I knew not what I did. Harold. Come back to us, Know what thou dost, and we may find for thee, So thou be chasten'd by thy banishment, Some easier Earldom. Tostig. What for Norway then? He looks for land among you, he and his. Harold. Seven feet of English land, or something more. Seeing he is a giant. O Harold O brother, brother, glory Been drunk together! these poor hands but sew, Spin, broider-would that they were There was a moment When being forced aloof from all my guard, And striking at Hardrada and his mad Or Athelstan, or English Ironside Who fought with Knut, or Knut who coming Dane Died English. Every man about his king Fought like a king; the king like his own man, No better; one for all, and all for one, One soul and therefore have we shatter'd back The hugest wave from Norseland ever yet Surged on us, and our battle-axes broken The Raven's wing, and dumb'd his carrion croak From the gray sea forever. Many are gone Drink to the dead who died for us, the living Who fought and would have died, but happier lived, If happier be to live; they both have life In the large mouth of England, till her voice Die with the world. Hail ! — hail ! Morcar. May all invaders perish like Hardrada! All traitors fail like Tostig! [All drink but HAROLD. Aldwyth. Thy cup 's full ! Harold. I saw the hand of Tostig cover it. Our dear, dead, traitor-brother, Tostig, Let him come! let him Here's to him, sink or [Drinks. Second Thane. God sink him! First Thane. Cannot hands which had the strength To shove that stranded iceberg off our shores, And send the shatter'd North again to What's Bru sea, Scuttle his cockle-shell? nanburg To Stamford-bridge? a war-crash, and so hard, So loud, that, by St. Dunstan, old St. Thor By God, we thought him dead- but our old Thor Heard his own thunder again, and woke and came Second Thane. Hammer on anvil, hammer on anvil. Old dog, Thou art drunk, old dog! |