Ælla, A Tragical Interlude - Act IV
SCENE I.
AT BRYSTOWE.
ÆLLA AND SERVITOURES.
AELLA.
TYS nowe fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte
To have been heere; mie stede han notte mie love;
Thys ys mie pallace; lette mie hyndes alyghte,
Whylste I goe oppe, & wake mie slepeynge dove.
Staie here, mie hyndlettes; I shal goe above.
Nowe, Birtha, wyll thie loke enhele mie spryte,
Thie smyles unto mie woundes a baulme wylle prove;
Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee sette aryghte.
Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle door;
Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of ware nemore.
EGWINA.
Oh Ælla!
ÆLLA.
Ah! that semmlykeene to mee
Speeketh a legendary tale of woe.
EGWINA.
Birtha is --
ÆLLA.
Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?
EGWINA
Gone --
ÆLLA.
Gone! ye goddes!
EGWINA.
Alas! ytte ys toe true.
Yee seynctes, hee dies awaie wythe myckle woe!
Ælla! what? Ælla! oh! hee lyves agen.
ÆLLA.
Cal mee notte Ælla; I am hymme ne moe.
Where ys shee gon awaie? ah! speake! how? when?
EGWINA.
I will.
ÆLLA.
Caparyson a score of stedes; flie, flie.
Where ys shee? swythynne speeke, or instante thou shalte die.
EGWINA.
Stylle thie loud rage, & here thou whatte I knowe.
ÆLLA.
Oh! speek.
EGWINA.
Lyche prymrose, droopynge wythe the heavie rayne,
Laste nyghte I lefte her, droopynge wythe her wiere,
Her love the gare, thatte gave her harte syke peyne --
ÆLLA.
Her love! to whomme?
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poem by Thomas Chatterton
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