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Dwi. O, no, my princely mistress! grieve not thus! Over our heads the blackest clouds do pass And brighter follow them.

Elb. No, no! my sky is night! I was a princess, Almost a queen: in gorgeous pomp beheld, The public gaze was ever turn'd on me; Proud was the highest Thane or haughtiest dame To do my bidding, ev'ry count'nance watch'd Each changeful glance of my commanding eye To read its meaning: now my state is changed; Scoffing and insult and degrading pity Abide the daughter of a murder'd king. Heaven's vengeance light upon them all! Begone! I hate the very light for looking on me! Begone and sooth me not!

Dwi. Forgive me, princess; do not thus despair; King Oswal's daughter many friends will find.

Elb. Friends! hold thy peace!—Oh it doth rend my heart! I have been wont to talk of subjects, vassals, Dependants, servants, slaves, but not of friends. Where shall I hide my head?

Dwi. Surely, dear mistress, with Saint Cuthbert's nuns, Whose convent by your father's gifts is rich, You will protection find. There quiet rest, And holy converse of those pious maids, After a while will pour into your mind Soft consolation. (putting her hand on Elburga's soothingly.)