William monologue (Act 7) — Queen Mary; and, Harold

Ay, for thou hast sworn an oath Which, if not kept, would make the hard earth rive To the very Devil's horns, the bright sky cleave To the very feet of God, and send her hosts Of injured Saints to scatter sparks of plague Thro' all your cities, blast your infants, dash The torch of war among your standing corn, Dabble your hearths with your own blood.--Enough! Thou wilt not break it! I, the Count--the King-- Thy friend--am grateful for thine honest oath, Not coming fiercely like a conqueror, now, But softly as a bridegroom to his own. For I shall rule according to your laws, And make your ever-jarring Earldoms move To music and in order--Angle, Jute, Dane, Saxon, Norman, help to build a throne Out-towering hers of France.... The wind is fair For England now.... To-night we will be merry. To-morrow will I ride with thee to Harfleur.