Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene II.] THE VARANGIAN. 307
JUDITH.
Too sadly true !
But how may I fling off this load of shame ?
MATILDA.
O, there are many ways.
JUDITH.
Name them.
MATILDA.
And speediest I have knowledge of,
What !
must I die?
JUDITH.
The best
is death.
MATILDA.
No, lady, Heaven forefend.
JUDITH.
What then import thy words ? Thou canst not mean
My
husband's murder ?
MATILDA.
Whch of Norman race
Accounts it murder to dispatch a Saxon ?
These English slaves, though deemed of gentle line,
Driven for rebellion from their flame-scathed halls,
Make the green woods their home ; and, lady, now
Among our lords 'tis fashionable sport
To hunt them down with blood-hounds.
JUDITH.
Yet his death,
If wrought by me, I fear would on myself
Destruction bring ;
for though a Saxon born,
He in the royal favour of the King
The foremost Baron stands.
MATILDA.
Are there not means