KING.
Why, is not this Alfrida?
ALFRIDA.
No, my good lord; it is the kitchen-maid,
Whom Ethenwald, in too much love to me,
Hath thus attir'd to dally with the king.
MAID.
By my troth, my lord, she lies. Go to;
I'll course you by and by.
KING.
Away, base strumpet, get thee from my sight.
MAID. Go your ways; you are a cogging knave, I warrant you. [Exit.
KING.
Base Ethenwald, dissembler that thou art,
So to dissemble with thy sovereign;
And afterward, under a show of love,
Thou cam'st to soothe thy lesing to the king,
Meaning by that to make me to conceive,
That thy intent was just and honourable.
But, see, at last thou hast deceived thyself,
And Edgar hath found out thy subtlety;
Which to requite think Edgar is thy enemy,
And vows to be revenged for this ill.—
Go to thy husband, beauteous Alfrida,
For Edgar can subdue affects in love.
ALFRIDA.
Thanks, gracious king, mirror of courtesy,
Whose virtuous thoughts bewray thy princely mind,
And makes thee famous 'mongst thy enemies:
For what is he that hears of Edgar's name,
And will not yield him praise as he deserves.
Nor hath your grace ever been praised more,
Or term'd more just in any action,
Than you shall be in conquering your desires,
And yielding pardon to Earl Ethenwald.
KING.
Will you be gone?
ALFRIDA.
My gracious lord, I humbly take my leave.
[ALFRIDA and ETHENWALD Exeunt.