Baron Alfred Tennyson Tennyson

“ I have been myself a virgin; and I sware To consecrate my virgin here to heaven— The silent, cloister'd, solitary life, A life of life-long prayer against the curse That lies on thee and England. HAROLD. No, no, no. EDWARD. Treble denial of the tongue of flesh, Like Peter's when he fell, and thou wilt have To wail for it like Peter. O my son! Are all oaths to be broken then, all promises Made in our agony for help from heaven? Son, there is one who loves thee: and a wife, What matters who, so she be serviceable In all obedience, as mine own hath been: God bless thee, wedded daughter. ”

“ We have parted from our wife without reproach, Tho' we have dived thro' all her practices; And that is well. LEOFWIN. I saw her even now: She hath not left us. HAROLD. Nought of Morcar then? GURTH. Nor seen, nor heard; thine, William's or his own As wind blows, or tide flows: belike he watches, If this war-storm in one of its rough rolls Wash up that old crown of Northumberland. HAROLD. I married her for Morcar—a sin against The truth of love. Evil for good, it seems, Is oft as childless of the good as evil For evil. LEOFWIN. Good for good hath borne at times A bastard false as William. ”

“ I think the Queen may never bear a child; I think that I may be some time the Queen, Then, Queen indeed: no foreign prince or priest Should fill my throne, myself upon the steps. I think I will not marry anyone, Specially not this landless Philibert Of Savoy; but, if Philip menace me, I think that I will play with Philibert, As once the Holy Father did with mine, Before my father married my good mother,— For fear of Spain. Enter LADY. LADY. O Lord! your Grace, your Grace, I feel so happy: it seems that we shall fly These bald, blank fields, and dance into the sun That shines on princes. ”

“ STIGAND. Why then the throne is empty. Who inherits? For tho' we be not bound by the king's voice In making of a king, yet the king's voice Is much toward his making. Who inherits? Edgar the Atheling? EDWARD. No, no, but Harold. I love him: he hath served me: none but he Can rule all England. Yet the curse is on him For swearing falsely by those blessed bones; He did not mean to keep his vow. HAROLD. Not mean To make our England Norman. EDWARD. There spake Godwin, Who hated all the Normans; but their Saints Have heard thee, Harold. EDITH. Oh! my lord, my king! ”

“ MARY. And so do I, sir; Your master works against me in the dark. I do believe he holp Northumberland Against me. NOAILLES. Nay, pure phantasy, your Grace. Why should he move against you? MARY. Will you hear why? Mary of Scotland,—for I have not own'd My sister, and I will not,—after me Is heir of England; and my royal father, To make the crown of Scotland one with ours, Had mark'd her for my brother Edward's bride; Ay, but your king stole her a babe from Scotland In order to betroth her to your Dauphin. See then: Mary of Scotland, married to your Dauphin, Would make our England, France ”

“ Thou swarest falsely by our blessed bones, We give our voice against thee out of heaven! Sanguelac! Sanguelac! The arrow! the arrow! HAROLD (starting up, battle-axe in hand.) Away! My battle-axe against your voices. Peace! The king's last word—'the arrow!' I shall die— I die for England then, who lived for England— What nobler? men must die. I cannot fall into a falser world— I have done no man wrong. Tostig, poor brother, Art thou so anger'd? Fain had I kept thine earldom in thy hands Save for thy wild and violent will that wrench'd All hearts of freemen from thee. ”

“ Thou Christian Bishop, thou Lord Chancellor Of England! no more rein upon thine anger Than any child! Thou mak'st me much ashamed That I was for a moment wroth at thee. MARY. I come for counsel and ye give me feuds, Like dogs that set to watch their master's gate, Fall, when the thief is ev'n within the walls, To worrying one another. My Lord Chancellor, You have an old trick of offending us; And but that you are art and part with us In purging heresy, well we might, for this Your violence and much roughness to the Legate, Have shut you from our counsels. ”

“ 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! ”

“ COLE. Those of the wrong side will despise the man, Deeming him one that thro' the fear of death Gave up his cause, except he seal his faith In sight of all with flaming martyrdom. CRANMER. Ay. COLE. Ye hear him, and albeit there may seem According to the canons pardon due To him that so repents, yet are there causes Wherefore our Queen and Council at this time Adjudge him to the death. He hath been a traitor, A shaker and confounder of the realm; And when the King's divorce was sued at Rome, He here, this heretic metropolitan, As if he had been the Holy Father, sat And judged it. ”

“ RENARD. Your star will be your princely son, Heir of this England and the Netherlands! And if your wolf the while should howl for more, We'll dust him from a bag of Spanish gold. I do believe, I have dusted some already, That, soon or late, your Parliament is ours. MARY. Why do they talk so foully of your Prince, Renard? RENARD. The lot of Princes. To sit high Is to be lied about. MARY. They call him cold, Haughty, ay, worse. RENARD. Why, doubtless, Philip shows Some of the bearing of your blue blood—still All within measure—nay, it well becomes him. ”

“ GUY. Art thou not Earl of Wessex? HAROLD. In mine earldom A man may hang gold bracelets on a bush, And leave them for a year, and coming back Find them again. GUY. Thou art a mighty man In thine own earldom! HAROLD. Were such murderous liars In Wessex—if I caught them, they should hang Cliff-gibbeted for sea-marks; our sea-mew Winging their only wail! GUY. Ay, but my men Hold that the shipwreckt are accursed of God;— What hinders me to hold with mine own men? HAROLD. The Christian manhood of the man who reigns! GUY. Ay, rave thy worst, but in our oubliettes Thou shalt or rot or ransom. ”

“ Their old crown Is yet a force among them, a sun set But leaving light enough for Alfgar's house To strike thee down by—nay, this ghastly glare May heat their fancies. TOSTIG. My most worthy brother, Thou art the quietest man in all the world— Ay, ay and wise in peace and great in war— Pray God the people choose thee for their king! But all the powers of the house of Godwin Are not enframed in thee. HAROLD. Thank the Saints, no! But thou hast drain'd them shallow by thy tolls, And thou art ever here about the King: Thine absence well may seem a want of care. Cling to their love ”

“ WILLIAM. No Spain in our beds—that were worse than all. I have been there with old Sir Thomas, and the beds I know. I hate Spain. A PEASANT. But, Sir Thomas, must we levy war against the Queen's Grace? WYATT. No, my friend; war for the Queen's Grace—to save her from herself and Philip—war against Spain. And think not we shall be alone—thousands will flock to us. The Council, the Court itself, is on our side. The Lord Chancellor himself is on our side. The King of France is with us; the King of Denmark is with us; the world is with us—war against Spain! ”

“ If not, they cannot hate the conqueror. We never—oh! good Morcar, speak for us, His conqueror conquer'd Aldwyth. HAROLD. Goodly news! MORCAR. Doubt it not thou! Since Griffith's head was sent To Edward, she hath said it. HAROLD. I had rather She would have loved her husband. Aldwyth, Aldwyth, Canst thou love me, thou knowing where I love? ALDWYTH. I can, my lord, for mine own sake, for thine, For England, for thy poor white dove, who flutters Between thee and the porch, but then would find Her nest within the cloister, and be still. HAROLD. Canst thou love one, who cannot love again? ”

“ GARDINER. What, if a mad dog bit your hand, my Lord, Would you not chop the bitten finger off, Lest your whole body should madden with the poison? I would not, were I Queen, tolerate the heretic, No, not an hour. The ruler of a land Is bounden by his power and place to see His people be not poison'd. Tolerate them! Why? do they tolerate you? Nay, many of them Would burn—have burnt each other; call they not The one true faith, a loathsome idol-worship? Beware, Lord Legate, of a heavier crime Than heresy is itself; beware, I say, Lest men accuse you of indifference To all faiths, all religion ”

“ Philip?— POLE. No, Philip is as warm in life As ever. MARY. Ay, and then as cold as ever. Is Calais taken? POLE. Cousin, there hath chanced A sharper harm to England and to Rome, Than Calais taken. Julius the Third Was ever just, and mild, and father-like; But this new Pope Caraffa, Paul the Fourth, Not only reft me of that legateship Which Julius gave me, and the legateship Annex'd to Canterbury—nay, but worse— And yet I must obey the Holy Father, And so must you, good cousin;—worse than all, A passing bell toll'd in a dying ear— He hath cited me to Rome, for heresy, Before his Inquisition. ”