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here's a following! We must wait on you, must we?

STITCH: ''Blood, sir, you must go in' -- oh hold me,

hold me, I am choleric. Why, ye shake-rag,

had ye never a lord under your girdle? Plain

Sir Stitch without welt or guard: why, how

now, you malapert knave, have ye forgot all good manners?

ROGER: Good manners be your speed.

STITCH: Why, this 'tis to keep familiar serving-man.

As I am a Lord, by my honor I will ...

revenge it with putting you out of my house.

You fellows, take example by his punishment.

Follow me just three foot behind, not above

or beneath, and Roger Rakehell, for your

sauciness, come you last. [Exeunt.]

ACT IV

Scene IV.I

[Enter Edmund Ironside, Alfric, Godwin, Aylward with Edricus, disguised.]

EDMUND: What wind doth cause your master write to us?

All is not well, I doubt. Give me the letter.

[The letter]

Prepare Perillus' bull to punish me

or some new never-heard-of torturing pain

to scourge me for my foul ingratitude.

Rumor did raise suspicion in my heart,

as it hath lately done within your breast

by some who envied my prosperity,

my love and zeal unto your majesty,

that you were doubtful of my spotless truth ...

and meant to cut me off by cutting short

my headless body with a bloody axe.

This on a sudden coming to my ear,

it pared my heart and struck me to the quick,

causing me flee the court to save my life

as sadly as the late-espoused man

grieves to depart from his new-married wife.

How many sighs I fetched at my depart,

how many times I turned to come again,

how oft I plained, how often I did weep, ...

were too too long to write or you to read.

But having now considered with myself

my over-light belief too credulous,

I come again like to a strayed sheep

tainted, God wot, with naught but ignorance.

Oh take me to your mercy, or if not so,

kill me yourself! Death is the end of woe.

[Finis letter.]

EDMUND: Hear ye, my lords, this humble supplication?

Your master is become an orator, ...

but tell him Edmund is not lunatic,

so like a woman to be won with words.

EDRICUS: This cottons [not] according to my mind.

The king is angry. See, he faceth me;

his color comes and goes. I hold my life

he knows me. Would I were well away.

EDMUND: Hark ye, my lords, what would you say

if yon plain fellow should be Edricus?

ALFRIC: I think not so, my lord..

EDMUND: ~~~ I'll quickly know. ...

Come hither, fellow. Tell thy master thus --

[He pulls the velvet patch off his face.]

what, Edricus, is't you? I thought no less.

You meant some good, no doubt. Tell me the truth:

what was the reason you came thus disguised?

EDRICUS: Now wit, or never, help. Poor naked truth

hath ta'en away suspicion of deceit.

I need no art; art cannot help me now.

Then plainly thus. Renowned sovereign,

I came thus plainly to your majesty

disguised in clown's attire to sound the truth -- ...

what opinion, if good or bad,

you had of me; and if I found it good,

I had determined to bewray myself;

if otherwise, I meant with secret speed

to leave my native country and to exile

myself from England, sailing into Spain,

whereas I meant in contemplation,

in pilgrimage and prayers for your grace

to end my life. [Enter a messenger, running.]

MESSENGER: Haste, haste, King Edmund, to relieve thy land, ...

which is oppressed by multitudes of Danes.

They swarm along thy coasts like little gnats

over a river in a summer's night,

or like to bees when they begin to flight:

so comes these Danes prepared fit to fight.

Their battle-main of three-score thousand men

with bristle-pointed spears which upright stand

shows like a new-shred grove of ashes tall

or else a wood of pines and cedars small.

Their flags and banners, yellow, blue and red, ...

resembles much the weeds in ripened corn.

Their drums and trumpets, with a dreadful sound

of clashing armor and fire-breathing steeds,

sounds like the fearful thunder sent from heaven,

mixed with Aeolus' boist'rous northern breath.

They prey upon thy subjects cruelly,