Britain ... - Blue-Lite

18 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act I.
I'll have no slaves to till my fields, and make
Them barren with their curses.- But, loved maid,
How to secure thee from my father's wrath ?
Ah, Harold ! Thou art more my friend than servant
O, I am greatly troubled.
HAROLD.
Good my lord,
I thought you were the happiest of the happy.
EDGAR.
No, the most wretched living. Come thou near.
This is no longer any place for me ;
I must depart, fly hence this very night,
To some far-distant country.
HAROLD.
Are you beside yourself?
EDGAR.
Nay, my lord,
Well nigh, good Harold.
HAROLD.
Fly hence, when on the eve of bridal joy ?
When you should wed a lady, whose fair hand
Will on her bridegroom place the starry robe
Of sovereignty and power ?
EDGAR.
I'd rather wear
The savage clothing of the new-slain wolf,
And in the cavern of some desert live.
Whose sands the foot of man hath never trod,
Than in Dunheved's princely palace dwell
With Cornwall's daughter.
HAROLD.
Thou dost much amaze me.