Winchester, inspires the King with a passion for her, and after a long
struggle between honour and love, she at last yields to the tyrant,
and for the sake of Canutus breaks her vestal vows. Upon hearing that
the enemy was about to enter the Cloister, Cartesmunda breaks out into
the following beautiful exclamation:

The raging foe pursues, defend us Heaven!
Take virgin tears, the balm of martyr'd saints
As tribute due, to thy tribunal throne;
With thy right hand keep us from rage and murder;
Let not our danger fright us, but our sins;
Misfortunes touch our bodies, not our souls.

When Canutus advances, and first sees Cartesmunda, his speech is
poetical, and conceived in the true spirit of Tragedy.

Ha! who holds my conquering hand? what power unknown,
By magic thus transforms me to a statue,
Senseless of all the faculties of life?
My blood runs back, I have no power to strike;
Call in our guards and bid 'em all give o'er.
Sheath up your swords with me, and cease to kill:
Her angel beauty cries, she must not die,
Nor live but mine: O I am strangely touch'd!
Methinks I lift my sword, against myself,
When I oppose her--all perfection!
O see! the pearled dew drops from her eyes;
Arise in peace, sweet soul.

In the same scene the following is extremely beautiful.