Hex. My daughter, your great Lord, indeed, is form'd
Of soul more stern than was the gentle Edward,
On whom your maiden fancy first was taught
To dwell with sanguine hope
Elb. O holy Hexulf! thou hast nam'd a name
Which to my conscience gives such secret pangs!
Oh! I have done such wrong to that sweet youth,
The thoughts of it makes my heart bleed, I would—
Yea there is nothing that I would not do
In reparation of the wrong I've done him.
Speak, my good father, if thou aught canst say!
Edward, 'tis said, has many powerful friends
In secret still devoted to his cause,
And not far distant stands his dreary tower.
O speak to me! Thou turn'st away thy head
Disturb'd and frowningly: hast thou no counsel,
For a soul-smitten and distracted woman?
(laying her clasped hands earnestly on his shoulder as he turn's from her much displeased.)
Hex. Daughter, forbear! you are, indeed, distracted.
Ethwald, by right of holy bands your lord,
Is in his seat too firmly fix'd; and Edward
Is only by some restless Thanes desired,
Under the influence of that dark wizard,
That heretic, who still ensnares the young.
Be wise then, I beseech you, and, in peace,
Live in the meek subjection of a wife.
