Britain ... - Blue-Lite

176 THE DEVOTED ONE. [Act III.
EDRIC.
Whence comes this bold mysterious being ? Pshaw !
It is the son of Wulfnoth, whose cold bones
Sleep in the sea-caves of the southern coast.
Deep hate I know pursues me for my deeds ;
Nor from them can I gather self-respect,
Or days of
joy,
or nights of sweet repose.
Yet power is mine, and I from that do pluck
A balm for every wound, a richer wreath
Than a good name bestows, the pride of fools.
And must I crouch,
When flourish green and all proudly my honours,
Crouch to this slave ? Eternal shame were mine
If I in combat met him, for he wears
The spells of sorcery, and hath to the Devil
Bartered his soul for wealth and rank. The court
Long cannot hold us both. Must I give place
And power to him ? Fury and plagues ! If gold
Can purchase steel or poison, he shall find,
So generous am I, that my purse
for him
Whom most I hate, the noblest largess yields. [Exit.
SCENE 11.^ Room of State in the Palace.
O, this is glorious !
Enter Edith and Evora.
In Selwood's lonesome forest ?
EVORA.
Who would wish to live
EDITH.
I in its happy solitudes would dwell,
Sooner far
Than in these noisy halls of wine and riot.