ACT III.

Scene I. — Gloucester Castle,

Enter C EFRID and K ENELM .

KENELM.

Cefrid, the soldier's vestment well becomes
Thy aged limbs. Such zealous loyalty,
Conters new honors on thy silver hairs,
Restores thy youth, and makes thy person sacred.

CEFRID.

Oh! name them not. My deeds are all too poor
To pay my debt of gratitude. 'Twas Edmund
Who call'd me, when an exil'd wanderer, home,
And gave me back my former dignity.
'Twas hard, my gallant Friend, indeed 'twas hard,
When age required repose, then to be banish'd;
My persecutor, he, whose wars I sought,
Unthankful Ethelred.

KENELM.

Had he rever'd
His kingly oath, the Danes, our tyrants now,
Had trembled at our name. But all is lost.
At Ashdown, never — never to return,
The British glory fled.

CEFRID.

Dost thou despair?
When the great Edmund yet survives to lead
With vig'rous charge, and animate our souls?
Does he not burn, impatient to erase
The record of his flight?

KENELM.

The guilt of Edrick

Dejects the wonted zrdor of his spirit,
And grieves him far beyond the loss of empire.
Oft bursts the loud complaint: But when inform'd
Of thy arrival, on his face appear'd
A transient smile. Then suddenly he started,
Sigh'd, and exclaim'd, — " Edrick, the Mercian's faith
" Stamps tenfold guilt on thee. "

CEFRID.

Behold, he comes,