And it were well, if thou
shouldst
let him feel,
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
Tennyson
Ay, rave thy worst, but in our oubliettes
Thou shalt or rot or ransom. Hale him hence!
[_To one of his_ ATTENDANTS.
Fly thou to William; tell him we have Harold.
SCENE II. --BAYEUX. PALACE.
COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.
WILLIAM. We hold our Saxon woodcock in the springe,
But he begins to flutter. As I think
He was thine host in England when I went
To visit Edward.
MALET. Yea, and there, my lord,
To make allowance for their rougher fashions,
I found him all a noble host should be.
WILLIAM. Thou art his friend: thou know'st my claim on England
Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.
And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel,
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
MALET. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?
WILLIAM. What wouldst thou do?
MALET. My lord, he is thy guest.
WILLIAM. Nay, by the splendour of God, no guest of mine.
He came not to see me, had past me by
To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate
Which hunted _him_ when that un-Saxon blast,
And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven
To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd
His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend Guy
Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,
But that I slept between and purchased him,
Translating his captivity from Guy
To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits
My ransom'd prisoner.
MALET. Well, if not with gold,
With golden deeds and iron strokes that brought
Thy war with Brittany to a goodlier close
Than else had been, he paid his ransom back.
WILLIAM. So that henceforth they are not like to league
With Harold against _me_.
MALET. A marvel, how
He from the liquid sands of Coesnon
Haled thy shore-swallow'd, armour'd Normans up
To fight for thee again!
Thou shalt or rot or ransom. Hale him hence!
[_To one of his_ ATTENDANTS.
Fly thou to William; tell him we have Harold.
SCENE II. --BAYEUX. PALACE.
COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.
WILLIAM. We hold our Saxon woodcock in the springe,
But he begins to flutter. As I think
He was thine host in England when I went
To visit Edward.
MALET. Yea, and there, my lord,
To make allowance for their rougher fashions,
I found him all a noble host should be.
WILLIAM. Thou art his friend: thou know'st my claim on England
Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.
And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel,
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
MALET. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?
WILLIAM. What wouldst thou do?
MALET. My lord, he is thy guest.
WILLIAM. Nay, by the splendour of God, no guest of mine.
He came not to see me, had past me by
To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate
Which hunted _him_ when that un-Saxon blast,
And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven
To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd
His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend Guy
Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,
But that I slept between and purchased him,
Translating his captivity from Guy
To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits
My ransom'd prisoner.
MALET. Well, if not with gold,
With golden deeds and iron strokes that brought
Thy war with Brittany to a goodlier close
Than else had been, he paid his ransom back.
WILLIAM. So that henceforth they are not like to league
With Harold against _me_.
MALET. A marvel, how
He from the liquid sands of Coesnon
Haled thy shore-swallow'd, armour'd Normans up
To fight for thee again!
