O, quickly do't! and I shall be with those
Who feel nor shame nor panic.
(3d Fol. and several others turn their faces away and weep. Enter more Fugitives.)
1st. Fol. What, is all lost?
1st. Fug. Yes, yes! our wing is beaten.
Seagurth alone, with a few desp'rate men,
Still sets his aged breast against the storm;
But thick the aimed weapons round him fly,
Like huntsmen's arrows round the toiled boar,
And he will soon be nothing.
Edw. (starting up.) O, God! O, living God! my noble father!
He has no son!—Off, ye debasing fears!
I'll tear thee forth, base heart, if thou dost let me.
(coming forward and stretching out his arms.)
Companions, noble Mercians—Ah, false word!
I may not call you noble. Yet, perhaps,
One gen'rous spark within your bosom glows.
Sunk in disgrace still lower than ye all,
I may not urge—Who lists will follow me!
All with one voice. We will all follow thee!
Ed. Will ye, in truth? then we'll be brave men still.(brandishing his sword as he goes off.)
My noble father!
(Exeunt, clashing their arms eagerly.
