HAROLD (_bitterly_). With a love Passing thy love for Griffyth! wherefore now Obey my first and last commandment. Go!
ALDWYTH. O Harold! husband! Shall we meet again?
HAROLD. After the battle--after the battle. Go.
ALDWYTH. I go. (_Aside_.) That I could stab her standing there!
[_Exit_ ALDWYTH.
EDITH. Alas, my lord, she loved thee.
HAROLD. Never! never!
EDITH. I saw it in her eyes!
HAROLD. I see it in thine.
And not on thee--nor England--fall God's doom!
EDITH. On _thee?_ on me. And thou art England! Alfred Was England. Ethelred was nothing. England Is but her king, and thou art Harold!
HAROLD. Edith, The sign in heaven--the sudden blast at sea-- My fatal oath--the dead Saints--the dark dreams-- The Pope's Anathema--the Holy Rood That bow'd to me at Waltham--Edith, if I, the last English King of England--
EDITH. No, First of a line that coming from the people, And chosen by the people--
HAROLD. And fighting for And dying for the people--
EDITH. Living! living!
HAROLD. Yea so, good cheer! thou art Harold, I am Edith!
Look not thus wan!
EDITH. What matters how I look?
Have we not broken Wales and Norseland? slain, Whose life was all one battle, incarnate war, Their giant-king, a mightier man-in-arms Than William.
HAROLD. Ay, my girl, no tricks in him-- No bastard he! when all was lost, he yell'd, And bit his shield, and dash'd it on the ground, And swaying his two-handed sword about him, Two deaths at every swing, ran in upon us And died so, and I loved him as I hate This liar who made me liar. If Hate can kill, And Loathing wield a Saxon battle-axe--
EDITH. Waste not thy might before the battle!
HAROLD. No, And thou must hence. Stigand will see thee safe, And so--Farewell. [_He is going, but turns back_.
The ring thou darest not wear.
I have had it fashion'd, see, to meet my hand.
[HAROLD _shows the ring which is on his finger_.
Farewell! [_He is going, but turns back again_.
I am dead as Death this day to ought of earth's Save William's death or mine.
EDITH. Thy death!--to-day!
Is it not thy birthday?
HAROLD. Ay, that happy day!
A birthday welcome! happy days and many!
One--this! [_They embrace_.
Look, I will bear thy blessing into the battle And front the doom of God.
NORMAN CRIES (_heard in the distance_).
Ha Rou! Ha Rou!
_Enter_ GURTH.
GURTH. The Norman moves!
HAROLD. Harold and Holy Cross!
[_Exeunt_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.
_Enter_ STIGAND.
STIGAND. Our Church in arms--the lamb the lion--not Spear into pruning-hook--the counter way-- Cowl, helm; and crozier, battle-axe. Abbot Alfwig, Leofric, and all the monks of Peterboro'
Strike for the king; but I, old wretch, old Stigand, With hands too limp to brandish iron--and yet I have a power--would Harold ask me for it-- I have a power.
EDITH. What power, holy father?
STIGAND. Power now from Harold to command thee hence And see thee safe from Senlac.
EDITH. I remain!
STIGAND. Yea, so will I, daughter, until I find Which way the battle balance. I can see it From where we stand: and, live or die, I would I were among them!
CANONS _from Waltham (singing without)_.
Salva patriam Sancte Pater, Salva Fili, Salva Spiritus, Salva patriam, Sancta Mater.[1]
[Footnote 1: The _a_ throughout these Latin hymns should be sounded broad, as in 'father.']
EDITH. Are those the blessed angels quiring, father?
STIGAND. No, daughter, but the canons out of Waltham, The king's foundation, that have follow'd him.
EDITH. O God of battles, make their wall of shields Firm as thy cliffs, strengthen their palisades!
What is that whirring sound?
STIGAND. The Norman arrow!
EDITH. Look out upon the battle--is he safe?
STIGAND. The king of England stands between his banners.
He glitters on the crowning of the hill.
God save King Harold!