O Edith, art thou here? O Harold, Harold--
Our Harold--we shall never see him more.
EDITH. For there was more than sister in my kiss,
And so the saints were wroth. I cannot love them,
For they are Norman saints--and yet I should--
They are so much holier than their harlot's son
With whom they play'd their game against the king!
ALDWYTH, The king is slain, the kingdom over-thrown!
EDITH. No matter!
ALDWYTH. How no matter, Harold slain?--
I cannot find his body. O help me thou!
O Edith, if I ever wrought against thee,
Forgive me thou, and help me here!
EDITH. No matter!
ALDWYTH. Not help me, nor forgive me?
EDITH. So thou saidest.
ALDWYTH. I say it now, forgive me!
EDITH. Cross me not!
I am seeking one who wedded me in secret.
Whisper! God's angels only know it. Ha!
What art thou doing here among the dead?
They are stripping the dead bodies naked yonder,
And thou art come to rob them of their rings!
ALDWYTH. O Edith, Edith, I have lost both crown
And husband.
EDITH. So have I.
ALDWYTH. I tell thee, girl,
I am seeking my dead Harold.
EDITH. And I mine!
The Holy Father strangled him with a hair
Of Peter, and his brother Tostig helpt;
The wicked sister clapt her hands and laugh'd;
Then all the dead fell on him.
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