Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene I.] THE ENGLISH SLAVE. 39
When in thy heart lurks a disgraceful secret,
Which, once made known, would thy fair honour blast,
And sink thy father to a timeless grave.
EDGAR.
Mysterious are thy words of wrath to me.
I wot not of their meaning : but I stand
Fearless in innocence, and proof to all
TIT envenomed shafts of slander.
GONDABERT.
Spare thy words.
Know then at once, to strike thee dumb with shame,
Thou minion of a slave-begotten slave,
Thy
baseness is discovered ! Look on this.
[Showing the letter, then flinging it towards him.
Read thy confusion there.
EDGAR.
A falsehood shall not taint my lips, for now
The cherished passion of this ardent heart
Right frankly will I own nay more, my lord,
Boast of it as my joy, my honest pride.
True 'tis, that gentle birth no lustre lends
To the self-radiant charms of her I love,
Whose beauty, form, and mind, divinely matched,
Make her a paragon, transcending all
The lofty damsels of the English court.
Wouldst thou but on this maiden deign to look,
Her smile would that stern heart to kindness win,
And draw a blessing from thee.
GONDABERT.
I look on her ?
The accurst enchantress whose dark passion-spells
Thy reason arid thy honour have destroyed ?
Dare not to hope that I will sacrifice