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Scene II.] THE VARANGIAN. 381
FITZ-ROLLO.
I'll office that
Glad duty of true knighthood, and here vow,
By the proud peacock and my golden spurs,
This battle-harness ne'er to doff, till I
Have dragged the wizard to my sovereign's feet.
ivo.
Mercy on thy poor bones, then ! They
will ache
With sharp, untold-of pains, bruises, and cramps,
Ere thou wilt master that terrific fiend.
A fen -eel would not through thy fingers slip
With half the ease he will escape thy blows.
Enter Officer.
OFFICER.
My liege, the Countess of Northumberland
Desires to be admitted.
KING.
What strange business
Hath brought her to our camp ? Good Earl of Dorset,
Conduct her hither.
OSMOND.
Sovereign, you confer
A pleasing duty on me. [Exit Osmond.
FITZ-ROLLO.
O, no doubt ;
For thou art in a tender lady's eyes
The very flower of gentle chivalry,
Made up of love, and secrecy, and fond
Devotedness, with melting sighs and glances,
And, like a well-trained hound, a maiden's glove ( 44 )
Or scarf canst fetch and carry ;
on red lips
Press kiss soft as moonbeams give young flowers,