Here is a face whose smiles should gild thy honours,
If thou art yet awake to beauty's power.
Edw. (kissing Elburga's hand respectfully.)
Honour'd I am, indeed; most dearly honour'd:
I feel it here (his hand on his heart) and should be joyful too,
If aught could gild my gloom.
(sighs very deeply, then suddenly recollecting himself)
And ever quick to honour valiant worth:
Ethwald, my friend—hast thou forgotten Ethwald?
(presenting Ethw. to her.)
Elb. Could I forget the warlike Thane of Mairnieth,
I must have barr'd mine ears against all sound;
For ev'ry voice is powerful in his praise,
And ev'ry Mercian tongue repeats his name.
(smiling graciously upon Ethw.)
King. (impatiently) Where go we now? we wander from our purpose.
Edward, thy youthful ardour, season'd well
With warlike craft, has crown'd my age with glory:
Here be thy valour crown'd, it is my will,
With honour's wreath, from a fair hand receiv'd.
(giving the wreath to Elburga.)
Edw. (earnestly) I do beseech you, uncle!—pray receive
My grateful thanks! the mournful cypress best
Becomes my brow: this honour must not be.
