Page:Passions 2.pdf/265

Sel. (laying his hand affectionately on Ethwald's breast.)
My dearest brother, do not let such thoughts
Again possess your mind!

Ethw. Go to! go to! (to Sel.) But, Ethelbert, thou'rt mad. (turning angrily to Eth.)

Eth. Not mad, my royal friend, but something griev'd
To see your restless mind still bent on that
Which will to you no real glory bring,
And to your hapless people many woes.

Ethw. Thou greatly errest from my meaning, friend.
As truly as thyself I do regard
My people's weal, and will employ the power
Heaven trusts me with, for that important end.
But were it not ignoble to confine
In narrow bounds the blessed power of blessing,
Lest, for a little space, the face of war
Should frown upon us? He who will not give
Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth,
For other's good, is a poor frozen churl.

Eth. Then be again a simple warriour,
And thine own ease, and blood, and treasure give:
But whilst thou art a king, and would'st bestow
On people not thine own, the blessed gift
Of gentle rule, earn'd by the public force
Of thine own subjects, thou dost give away
That o'er the which thou hast no right. Frown not:
I will assert it, crown'd and royal Lord,
Tho' to your ears full rude the sound may be.