Still with the dews of piety, this meek lady
Here sitting like an angel newly-shent,
Who veils its snowy wings and grows all pale,
Is she nothing?
Otho.
What more to the purpose, abbot?
Ludolph.
Whither is he winding?
Conrad.
No clue yet!
Ethelbert.
You have heard, my Liege, and so, no
doubt, all here,
Foul, poisonous, malignant whisperings;
Nay open speech, rude mockery grown common,
Against the spotless nature and clear fame
Of the princess Erminia, your niece.
I have intruded here thus suddenly,
Because I hold those base weeds, with tight hand,
Which now disfigure her fair growing stem,
Waiting but for your sign to pull them up
By the dark roots, and leave her palpable,
To all men’s sight, a Lady, innocent.
The ignominy of that whisper’d tale
About a midnight gallant, seen to climb
A window to her chamber neighboured near,
I will from her turn off, and put the load
On the right shoulders; on that wretch’s head,
Who, by close stratagems, did save herself,
Chiefly by shifting to this lady’s room
A rope-ladder for false witness.
Ludolph.
Most atrocious!
Otho.
Ethelbert, proceed.
Ethelbert.
With sad lips I shall:
For in the healing of one wound, I fear
To make a greater. His young highness here
To-day was married.
Ludolph.
Good.
Ethelbert.
Would it were good!
Yet why do I delay to spread abroad
The names of those two vipers, from whose jaws
A deadly breath went forth to taint and blast
This guileless lady?
Otho.
Abbot, speak their names.
Ethelbert.
A minute first. It cannot be but may
I ask, great judge, if you to-day have put
A letter by unread?
Otho.
Does ‘tend in this?
Conrad.
Out with their names!
Ethelbert.
Bold sinner, say you so?
Ludolph.
Out, tedious monk!
Otho.
Confess, or by the wheel
Ethelbert. My evidence cannot be far away;
And, though it never come, be on my head
The crime of passing an attaint upon
The slanderers of this virgin.
Ludolph.
Speak aloud!
Ethelbert.
Auranthe, and her brother there.
Conrad.
Amaze!
Ludolph.
Throw them from the windows!
Otho.
Do what you will!
Ludolph.
What shall I do with them?
Something of quick dispatch, for should she hear,
My soft Auranthe, her sweet mercy would
Prevail against my fury. Damned priest!
What swift death wilt thou die? As to the lady
I touch her not.
Ethelbert.
Illustrious Otho, stay!
An ample store of misery thou hast,
Choak not the granary of thy noble mind
With more bad bitter grain, too difficult
A cud for the repentance of a man
Grey-growing. To thee only I appeal,
Not to thy noble son, whose yeasting youth
Will clear itself, and crystal turn again.
A young man’s heart, by Heaven’s blessing, is
A wide world, where a thousand new-born hopes
Empurple fresh the melancholy blood;
But an old man’s is narrow, tenantless
Of hopes, and stuff’d with many memories,
Which, being pleasant, ease the heavy pulse
Painful, clog up and stagnate. Weigh this matter
Even as a miser balances his coin ;
And, in the name of mercy, give command
That your knight Albert be brought here before you.
He will expound this riddle ; he will show
A noonday proof of bad Auranthe’s guilt.
Otho.
Let Albert straight be summon ‘d.
Ludolph.
Impossible !
I cannot doubt I will not no to doubt
Is to be ashes! wither ‘d up to death!
Otho.
My gentle Ludolph, harbour not a fear;
You do yourself much wrong.
Ludolph.
O, wretched dolt!
Now, when my foot is almost on thy neck,
Wilt thou infuriate me? Proof! thou fool!
Why wilt thou teaze impossibility
With such a thick-skull’d persevering suit?
Fanatic