My wife? would she were not!
II:4:47 KING.
I say so too,
Would she were not!
II:4:48 ALAR.
Ah me! why did I marry?
II:4:49 KING.
Truth, it was very rash.
II:4:50 ALAR.
Who made me rash?
Who drove me from my hearth, and sent me forth
On the unkindred earth? With the dark spleen
Goading injustice, that 'tis vain to quell,
Entails on restless spirits. Yes, I married,
As men do oft, from very wantonness;
To tamper with a destiny that's cross,
To spite my fate, to put the seal upon
A balked career, in high and proud defiance
Of hopes that yet might mock me, to beat down
False expectation and its damned lures,
And fix a bar betwixt me and defeat.
II:4:51 KING.
These bitter words would rob me of my hope,
That thou at least wert happy.
II:4:52 ALAR.
Would I slept
With my grey fathers!
II:4:53 KING.
And my daughter too!
O most unhappy pair!
II:4:54 ALAR.
There is a way.
To cure such woes, one only.
II:4:55 KING.
'Tis my thought.
II:4:56 ALAR.
No cloister shall entomb this life; the grave
Shall be my refuge,
II:4:57 KING.
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