I see
No drops on mine. My head is weak, my heart
A wilderness of passion. Prayers, thy prayers!
[ALARCOS rises suddenly and exit.]
SCENE 2
Chamber in the Royal Palace.
The INFANTA seated in despondency; the KING standing by her side.
III:2:1 KING.
Indeed, 'tis noticed.
III:2:2 SOL.
Solitude is all
I ask; and is it then so great a boon?
III:2:3 KING.
Nay, solitude's no princely appanage.
Our state's a pedestal, which men have raised
That they may gaze on greatness.
III:2:4 SOL.
A false idol,
And weaker than its worshippers. I've lived
To feel my station's vanity. O, Death,
Thou endest all!
III:2:5 KING.
Thou art too young to die,
And yet may be too happy. Moody youth
Toys in its talk with the dark thought of death,
As if to die were but to change a robe.
It is their present refuge for all cares
And each disaster. When the sere has touched
Their flowing locks, they prattle less of death,
Perchance think more of it.
III:2:6 SOL.
Why, what is greatness?
Will't give me love, or faith, or tranquil thoughts?
No, no, not even justice.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74