Mightily, my dear lady!
ALDWYTH. Stand by me then, and look upon my face,
Not on the comet.
_Enter_ MORCAR.
Brother! why so pale?
MORCAR. It glares in heaven, it flares upon the Thames,
The people are as thick as bees below,
They hum like bees,--they cannot speak--for awe;
Look to the skies, then to the river, strike
Their hearts, and hold their babies up to it.
I think that they would Molochize them too,
To have the heavens clear.
ALDWYTH. They fright not me.
_Enter_ LEOFWIN, _after him_ GURTH.
Ask thou Lord Leofwin what he thinks of this!
MORCAR. Lord Leofwin, dost thou believe, that these
Three rods of blood-red fire up yonder mean
The doom of England and the wrath of Heaven?
BISHOP OF LONDON (_passing_).
Did ye not cast with bestial violence
Our holy Norman bishops down from all
Their thrones in England? I alone remain.
Why should not Heaven be wroth?
LEOFWIN. With us, or thee?
BISHOP OF LONDON. Did ye not outlaw your archbishop Robert,
Robert of Jumieges--well-nigh murder him too?
Is there no reason for the wrath of Heaven?
LEOFWIN. Why then the wrath of Heaven hath three tails,
The devil only one.
[_Exit_ BISHOP OF LONDON.
_Enter_ ARCHBISHOP STIGAND.
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