Edgar, or the English monarch an heroick tragedy. By Mr. Thomas Rymer, servant to Their Majesties.

SCENE VIII.

Alfrid in Man's habit, as Edgar goes in hast, from behind a Bush runs against him.

My Mind's unhindg'd, and the whole Fabrick shakes: This Boy my labour'd Resolution breaks.

Alfr.

Fate sees through my Disguise, and makes me run

Aside.

Into his very Arms, I strive to shun.

Edg.

I in this Face the matchless Alfrid see. Heav'ns! are ye not her Brother?—Should he be, Mad, and inconstant, what were that to me? Are you? —the bashfull Grace—the pretty Fear, All Alfrid, Alfrid to my Soul endear. Sympathie is't, or some new Charm, do's seise, Ravish my Breast, and violently please? Insensibly on me the Poison stole; 'Tis now within, and mingles with my Soul— Oh Fire! oh Rage! oh certainly Divine, No humane power could thus—could thus disjoin, And fix, ev'n in the Centre of my Life. Sense—Reason—vain and fruitless is your Strife,

In vain contesting that this is not She. 'Tis—and by Heav'n design'd a Part of Me; My dearest—inmost Part — Thus hurry'd on, Ah! whither will my raving Fancy run?— You are her Brother.—

Alfr.

—She no Brother had: The onely Child was that unhappy Maid.

Edg.

Then, you have known her—

Alfr.

—Seen her heretofore.

Edg.

I saw, admir'd, and ne'r examin'd more. Whom do's she blest with name of Parents make?

Alfr.

The Duke of Cornwall doth that Name partake.

Edg.

Your Words directly to that Alfrid lead, Whom I and all my Stars had mine decreed. Shall His Embraces that bright Form prophane, Whom Sacrilege and blackest Treasons stain; Who this Affront to Me and Heav'n durst give, Yet after have the Impudence to Live? But, Traitour, I thy Fraud shall counterplot: I will untie, or surely cut the Knot— My Title's good: He courted her, —he sped,— And did her, onely, as my Proxy bed.

Alfr.

The Ceremony went not yet so far: She, by strict Oath, engag'd him to forbear The Marriage-Bed, till that three Nights were past: Of which three Nights, this following is the last.

Edg.

Heav'n, this great Work is thine, thy Care I see, Since Alfrid is reserv'd entire for me— I'll search her out—

Going, meets Ethelwold, stops, and looks angry on him.