HAROLD. Ha! ha!
EDITH. Oh! laugh not!... Strange and ghastly in the gloom
And shadowing of this double thunder-cloud
That lours on England--laughter!
HAROLD. No, not strange!
This was old human laughter in old Rome
Before a Pope was born, when that which reign'd
Call'd itself God.--A kindly rendering
Of 'Render unto Caesar.' ... The Good Shepherd!
Take this, and render that.
GURTH. They have taken York.
HAROLD. The Lord was God and came as man--the Pope
Is man and comes as God.--York taken?
GURTH. Yea,
Tostig hath taken York!
HAROLD. To York then. Edith,
Hadst thou been braver, I had better braved
All--but I love thee and thou me--and that
Remains beyond all chances and all churches,
And that thou knowest.
EDITH. Ay, but take back thy ring.
It burns my hand--a curse to thee and me.
I dare not wear it.
[_Proffers_ HAROLD _the ring, which he takes_.
HAROLD. But I dare. God with thee!
[_Exeunt_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.
EDITH. The King hath cursed him, if he marry me;
The Pope hath cursed him, marry me or no!
God help me! I know nothing--can but pray
For Harold--pray, pray, pray--no help but prayer,
A breath that fleets beyond this iron world,
And touches Him that made it.
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