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Hex. My daughter, your great Lord, indeed, is form'd Of soul more stern than was the gentle Edward, On whom your maiden fancy first was taught To dwell with sanguine hope

Elb. O holy Hexulf! thou hast nam'd a name Which to my conscience gives such secret pangs! Oh! I have done such wrong to that sweet youth, The thoughts of it makes my heart bleed, I would— Yea there is nothing that I would not do In reparation of the wrong I've done him. Speak, my good father, if thou aught canst say! Edward, 'tis said, has many powerful friends In secret still devoted to his cause, And not far distant stands his dreary tower. O speak to me! Thou turn'st away thy head Disturb'd and frowningly: hast thou no counsel, For a soul-smitten and distracted woman? Hex. Daughter, forbear! you are, indeed, distracted. Ethwald, by right of holy bands your lord, Is in his seat too firmly fix'd; and Edward Is only by some restless Thanes desired, Under the influence of that dark wizard, That heretic, who still ensnares the young. Be wise then, I beseech you, and, in peace, Live in the meek subjection of a wife.