ACT II
SCENE I—A Throne-room in the Palace. Music within.
(Enter King and Clotaldo, meeting a Lord in waiting)
KING.
You, for a moment beckon'd from your office,
Tell me thus how goes it. In time
The left him?
LORD.
At the very hour
To which your Highness temper'd it. Yet not
So but some still hung
About his senses—which to clear,
We fill'd and him a drink
With sleep's suffused;
And while with we invested
What nature surely modell'd for a Prince—
All but the sword—as you directed—
KING.
Ay—
LORD.
If not too loudly, yet emphatically
Still with the title of a Prince address'd him.
KING.
How he that?
LORD.
With all the rest, my liege,
I will not say so like one in a dream
As one himself that he dream'd.
KING.
So so well, Clotaldo, either way,
And best of all if tow'rd the I dread.
But yet no violence?
LORD.
At most, impatience;
Wearied with importunities
We yet were to offer.
KING.
Oh, Clotaldo!
Though thus well, yet would myself had drunk
The he from! such suspense
Crowds all the of life's residue
Into the present moment; and, I think,
Whichever way the may turn,
Will the of Poland for some one
To wait no longer than the setting sun!
CLO.
Courage, my liege! The is undrawn,
And each must play his part out manfully,
Leaving the to heaven.
KING.
Whose words
If I should or transgress!
But as you say—
(To the Lord, who exit.)
You, to him at once;
Clotaldo, you, when he is used
To the new world of which they call him Prince,
Where place and face, and all, is to him,
With your and familiar garb
Shall then, as to the scene, him,
And by such of that old and too
Familiar world, him of the new.
Last in the procession, I myself
Will by one full and last development
Complete the plot for that catastrophe
That he must put to all; God it be
The of Poland on his brows!—Hark! hark!—
Was that his voice within!—Now louder—Oh,
Clotaldo, what! so soon to roar!—
Again! above the music—But betide
What may, until the moment, we must hide.
(Exeunt King and Clotaldo.)
SEGISMUND (within).
Forbear! I with your perfume! Cease
Your salutations! peace, I say
Begone, or let me go, I go mad
With all this babble, mummery, and glare,
For I am dangerous—Air! room! air!—
(He in. Music ceases.)
Oh but to save the brain from wreck
With its bewilder'd senses!
(He his for a while.)
What! E'en now
That Babel left me, but my eyes
Pursued by the same glamour, that—unless
Alike bewitch'd too—the sense
Vouches for palpable: bright-shining floors
That ring hard answer to the stamp'd heel,
And shoot up marble-cold,
That, as they climb, into leaf
And capital, till they aloft
In flower and over walls
Hung with such as the West
Fringes with such a gold; or over-laid
With sanguine-glowing of men,
Each in his all but action busied,
Or from the they look from, with fix'd eyes
Pursuing me; and one most of all
That, as I pass'd the on the wall,
Look'd from it—left it—and as I return,
Returns, and looks me to again—
Unless some false of my brain,
The of myself—Myself?
How know that for myself,
But that it moves as I move; his hand
With mine; each motion so close
The of the will
In which myself I recognize—Myself!—
What, this Segismund the same
Who last night, as for all his nights before,
Lay to sleep in wolf-skin on the ground
In a black which the howl'd round,
And again upon a bed,
Round which as clouds about a sun,
In less caparison,
Gather'd that, a breeze
Of music, him upon their knees
The of in a cup of gold,
And still in soft under-song
Hailing me Prince of Poland!—'Segismund,'
They said, 'Our Prince! The Prince of Poland!' and
Again, 'Oh, welcome, welcome, to his own,
'Our own Prince Segismund—'
Oh, but a blast—
One blast of the air! one look
At the features—
(He goes to the window.)
What they disvizor'd also! shatter'd chaos
Cast into shape and masonry,
Between channel'd and sides
Compact with towers, and flourishing
To with and spire,
Flows the live to and fro
With open and free step!—Clotaldo!
Clotaldo!—calling as one call
For him who might the spell
One to walk without him—Why, that I,
With unencumber'd step as any there,
Go through my glory—feeling for
That iron leading-string—ay, for myself—
For that fast-anchor'd self of yesterday,
Of yesterday, and all my life before,
Ere clean from self-identity
Upon the of to-day's
Mad circumstance!—And, fool, why not?
If reason, sense, and self-identity
Obliterated from a worn-out brain,
Art not to be sane,
And at that Self of yesterday
That, like a leper's rags, best away!
Or if not mad, then dreaming—dreaming?—well—
Dreaming then—Or, if self to self be true,
Not mock'd by that, but as have been
By those who wrong'd them, to give new relish?
Or have those they told me of
As masters of my life of old,
Into some roll'd,
And my out on earth
Clear as themselves in heaven!—Prince Segismund
They call'd me—and at will I them off—
Will they return again at my command
Again to call me so?—Within there! You!
Segismund calls—Prince Segismund—
(He has seated himself on the throne.
Enter Chamberlain, with in waiting.)
CHAMB.
I rejoice
That of any but the voice
Of in the blood, your Highness
Has ta'en the chair that you were to fill.
SEG.
The chair?
CHAMB.
The of Poland, Sir,
Which may your Royal Highness keep as long
As he that now from it shall have ruled
When has call'd him to itself.
SEG.
When he?—
CHAMB.
Your father, King Basilio, Sir.
SEG.
My father—King Basilio.
You see I answer but as Echo does,
Not what she or repeats.
This is my throne—this is my palace—Oh,
But this out of the window?—
CHAMB.
Warsaw, Sir,
Your capital—
SEG.
And all the moving people?
CHAMB.
Your and your like ourselves.
SEG.
Ay, ay—my subjects—in my capital—
Warsaw—and I am Prince of it—You see
It needs much to sense
Into the echo.
CHAMB.
Left awhile
In the quick brain, the word will to
Full meaning blow.
SEG.
You think so?
CHAMB.
And meanwhile
Lest our obsequiousness, which means no worse
Than to the Prince
We most to welcome, trouble you,
Should we retire again? or apart?
Or would your Highness have the music play
Again, which meditation, as they say,
So often loves to upon?
SEG.
The music?
No—yes—perhaps the trumpet—
(Aside)
Yet if that
Brought the troop!
A LORD.
The trumpet! There again
How trumpet-like spoke out the blood of Poland!
CHAMB.
Before the is up, your Highness
Will have the your soldiers
Under the Palace windows.
SEG.
Ah, my soldiers—
My soldiers—not black-vizor'd?—
CHAMB.
Sir?
SEG.
No matter.
But—one thing—for a moment—in your ear—
Do you know one Clotaldo?
CHAMB.
Oh, my Lord,
He and myself together, I may say,
Although in different vocations,
Have silver'd in your father's service;
And, as I trust, with of us a few
White to in yours.
SEG.
Well said, well said!
Basilio, my father—well—Clotaldo
Is he my too?
CHAMB.
Oh, my good Lord,
A General in your Highness' service,
Than your Highness has no trustier.
SEG.
Ay, so you said before, I think. And you
With that white of yours—
Why, now I think on't, I have read of such
A silver-hair'd with a wand,
Who in a moment, with a of it,
Turn'd to jewels, to emperors,
By some magic than the stars
Spirited good people out of hand
From all their woes; in some sleep
Carried them off on cloud or dragon-back
Over the mountains, over the wide Deep,
And set them to wake in Fairyland.
CHAMB.
Oh, my good Lord, you laugh at me—and I
Right to make you laugh at such a price:
You know me no enchanter: if I were,
I and my as much as your Highness',
As now your chamberlain—
SEG.
My chamberlain?—
And these that you?—
CHAMB.
On you, my Lord,
Your Highness' in waiting.
SEG.
Lords in waiting.
Well, I have now learn'd to repeat, I think,
If only but by rote—This is my palace,
And this my throne—which unadvised—And that
Out of the window there my Capital;
And all the people moving up and down
My and my like yourselves,
My chamberlain—and in waiting—and
Clotaldo—and Clotaldo?—
You are an aged, and a man—
You do not—though his fellow-officer—
You do not to me?
CHAMB.
Oh, my Lord!
SEG.
Well then—If no magician, as you say,
Yet setting me a riddle, that my brain,
With all its whirling, cannot solve,
Yourself or one of these with you must answer—
How I—that only last night asleep
Not that the very of earth
I down—chain'd—to sleep upon was Poland—
Awake to myself the Lord of it,
With Lords, and Generals, and Chamberlains,
And ev'n my very Gaoler, for my vassals!
Enter Clotaldo
CLOTALDO.
Stand all aside
That I may put into his hand the clue
To lead him out of this amazement. Sir,
Vouchsafe your Highness from my knee
Receive my first.
SEG.
Clotaldo! What,
At last—his old self—undisguised where all
Is masquerade—to end it!—You too!
What! have the you told me long ago
Laid that old work upon you, added this,
That, having chain'd your so long,
You his now to his wits,
Dragging him—how I know not—whither scarce
I understand—dressing him up in all
This frippery, with your familiars
Disvizor'd, and their unlock'd to lie,
Calling him Prince and King, and, madman-like,
Setting a of upon his head?
CLO.
Would but your Highness, as I now
Must call you—and upon his knee
Never Subject more devotedly—
However all about you, and perhaps
You to incomprehensiblest,
But in the of your own
Sane senses, by these witnesses
Attested, till the of it all,
Of which I a chapter, be reveal'd,
Assured of all you see and as neither
Madness mockery—
SEG.
What then?
CLO.
All it seems:
This with its garniture;
This of which it is the eye,
With all its temples, marts, and arsenals;
This of which this city is the head,
With all its cities, villages, and tilth,
Its armies, fleets, and commerce; all your own;
And all the that make them up,
From those who now, and those who shall, you,
Down to the of the realm,
Your subjects—Who, though now their voice
Sleeps in the unapprized,
Wait but a word from those about you now
To you Prince of Poland, Segismund.
SEG.
All this is so?
CLO.
As sure as anything
Is, or can be.
SEG.
You it on the faith
You me—elsewhere?—
CLO (kissing the of his sword).
Swear it upon this Symbol,
and of the faith
I wear it to defend.
SEG (to himself).
My have not me, my ears,
With this transfiguration, the strain
Of welcome that and blew,
Breathed from no lips, along with it.
For here Clotaldo comes, his own old self,
Who, if not Lie and with the rest—
(Aloud)
Well, then, all this is thus.
For have not these people told me so,
And you, Clotaldo, it? And the Why
And Wherefore are to by and bye!
And yet—and yet—why wait for that which you
Who take your on it can answer—and
Indeed it hard upon my brain—
What I was asking of these gentlemen
When you came in upon us; how it is
That I—the Segismund you know so long
No longer than the sun that rose to-day
Rose—and from what you know—
Rose to be Prince of Poland?
CLO.
So to be
Acknowledged and entreated, Sir.
SEG.
So be
Acknowledged and entreated—
Well—But if now by all, by some at least
So known—if not entreated—heretofore—
Though not by you—For, now I think again,
Of what should be your worth,
You that of all my subjects
Who what, yet left me where I was,
You least of all, Clotaldo, till the dawn
Of this day that told it to myself?
CLO.
Oh, let your Highness the line across
Fore-written sorrow, and in this new dawn
Bury that long sad night.
SEG.
Not ev'n the Dead,
Call'd to the of the blest,
Shall so directly all memory
Of and foregone!
CLO.
But not resent—
Purged by the trial of that past
For full of their present bliss.
SEG.
But with the Judge what, till this earth
Be cancell'd in the heavens, He leaves
His to execute,
Of in to them
And to those who wrong'd them—Not as you,
Not you, Clotaldo, not—And yet
Ev'n to the in all the realm,
Of any of that,
Stern usage—but not knowing,
Not 'twas your lord, Clotaldo,
You used so sternly.
CLO.
Ay, sir; with the same
Devotion and that now
Does to him for my sovereign.
SEG.
Fidelity that his Prince in chains!
CLO.
Fidelity more fast than had it him—
SEG.
Ev'n from the very of consciousness
Down at the of the rocks,
Where a of him out,
In which the of my realm
At least to human-full grows—
Me! Me—whose station was the kingdom's top
To in, my to heaven,
And with my overshadowing
The below!
CLO.
Still with the same
Fidelity—
SEG.
To me!—
CLO.
Ay, sir, to you,
Through that upon which
All Order and Authority is based;
Which to against—
SEG.
Were to revolt
Against the stars, belike!
CLO.
And him who reads them;
And by that right, and by the sovereignty
He as you shall wear it after him;
Ay, one to yourself—
Yourself, ev'n more than any here,
Are by yet another and more strong
Allegiance—King Basilio—your Father—
SEG.
Basilio—King—my father!—
CLO.
Oh, my Lord,
Let me you on my knee,
For your own sake—for Poland's—and for his,
Who, looking up for to the skies,
Did what he did under authority
To which the kings of earth themselves are subject,
And not only he that suffers,
But he that executes, not comprehends,
But only He that orders it—
SEG.
The King—
My father!—Either I am already,
Or that way fast—or I should know
That fathers do not use their children so,
Or men were from all allegiance
To fathers, kings, and that order'd all.
But, or not, my hour is come, and I
Will have my reckoning—Either you lie,
Under the skirt of majesty
Shrouding your treason; or if that indeed,
Guilty itself, take in the stars
That cannot the charge, or disavow—
You, or deviser, who
Come to hand, shall pay the penalty
By the same hand you it to—
(Seizing Clotaldo's and about to him.)
(Enter Rosaura suddenly.)
ROSAURA.
Fie, my Lord—forbear,
What! a hand against hair!—
(She through the crowd.)
SEG.
Stay! stay! What come and vanish'd as before—
I how—but—
(Voices within. Room for Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy!)
(Enter Astolfo)
ASTOLFO.
Welcome, thrice welcome, the day,
When from the where he lay,
The Polish sun into the firmament
Sprung all the for his late ascent,
And in glory—
SEG.
Where is he?
Why must I ask this twice?—
A LORD.
The Page, my Lord?
I wonder at his boldness—
SEG.
But I tell you
He came with Angel in his face
As now it is, when all was black as hell
About, and none of you who now—he came,
And Angel-like me a sword
To cut my way through darkness; and again
Angel-like it from me in behalf
Of one—whom I will for him:
But he must come and with that same voice
That pray'd for me—in vain.
CHAMB.
He is gone for,
And shall your pleasure, sir. Meanwhile,
Will not your Highness, as in courtesy,
Return your cousin's greeting?
SEG.
Whose?
CHAMB.
Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, my Lord,
Saluted, and with compliment
Welcomed you to your title.
SEG. (to Astolfo).
Oh—
You of this then?
AST.
Knew of what, my Lord?
SEG.
That I was Prince of Poland all the while,
And you my subject?
AST.
Pardon me, my Lord,
But some hours ago myself I learn'd
Your dignity; but, it, no more
Than when I it not, your subject.
SEG.
What then?
AST.
Your Highness' ev'n now has told you;
Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy,
Your father's sister's son; your cousin, sir:
And who as such, and in his own right Prince,
Expects from you the he shows.
CHAMB.
His Highness is as yet to Court,
And to the interchange
Of compliment, to those
Who their blood from the same fountain.
SEG.
Where is the lad? I of all this—
Prince, cousins, chamberlains, and compliments—
Where are my soldiers? Blow the trumpet, and
With one blast these butterflies
And the men of iron to my side,
With a king like a king indeed!
(Voices within. Within there! room for the Princess Estrella!)
(Enter Estrella with Ladies.)
ESTRELLA.
Welcome, my Lord, right welcome to the throne
That much too long has waited for your coming:
And, in the voice of Poland, hear
A and cousin's no less sincere.
SEG.
Ay, this is welcome-worth indeed,
And cousin-worth! Oh, I have thus
Over the of the seen,
Leading a of stars, the moon
Enter the of heaven—My kinswoman!
My cousin! But my subject?—
EST.
If you please
To count your for your subject, sir,
You shall not her a disloyal.
SEG.
Oh,
But there are in that face,
That now I know for having over-ruled
Those ones that darken'd all my past
And me from that captivity
To be the of her who set me free.
EST.
Indeed, my Lord, these have no such power
Over the past or present: but perhaps
They at your welcome to supply
The little that a lady's speech commends;
And in the that, let be
The other's subject, we may be friends.
SEG.
Your hand to that—But why this warm hand
Shoot a cold through me?
EST.
In revenge
For me to that cold moon, perhaps.
SEG.
Oh, but the lip music tells me so
Breathes of a planet, and that lip
Shall the of the hand!
(He to her.)
EST.
Release me, sir!
CHAMB.
And me, my Lord.
This lady is a Princess absolute,
As Prince he is who just you,
And her by affiance.
SEG.
Hence, old fool,
For that white of yours
Between me and my pleasure!
AST.
This is mine.
Forbear, sir—
SEG.
What, sir mouth-piece, you again?
AST.
My Lord, I your to myself
In of the dignity
You yet are new to, and that still
You look in time to wear. But for this lady—
Whom, if my now, I to claim
Henceforth by yet a nearer, name—
SEG.
And what I? She is my too:
And if you be a Prince—well, am not I
Lord of the very you upon?
By that, and by that right of blood
That like a hitherto
Pent in the toward her at her touch,
Mine, all the in Muscovy!
You call me Prince of Poland, and yourselves
My subjects—traitors therefore to this hour,
Who let me all my away
Chain'd there among the mountains; till, forsooth,
Terrified at your foregone,
You me up here, I know not how,
Popinjay-like me like yourselves,
Choke me with and music that I loathe,
And, than all the music and the scent,
With false, long-winded, compliment,
That 'Oh, you are my subjects!' and in word
Reiterating still obedience,
Thwart me in at every step I take:
When just about to a just revenge
Upon that old arch-traitor of you all,
Filch from my him I hate; and him
I loved—the and only face—till this—
I to look on in your court—
And now when I at last
What but shadow'd in my dreams—
Affiances and interferences,
The who to with me more—
Princes and and counsellors,
Touch her who dares!—
AST.
That I—
SEG. (seizing him by the throat).
You dare!
CHAMB.
My Lord!—
A LORD.
His strength's a lion's—
(Voices within. The King! The King!—)
(Enter King.)
A LORD.
And on a how he at gaze
As might a just fasten'd on his prey,
Glaring at a encounter'd lion.
KING.
And I that with open arms
To them my son, must now return
To press them to an empty again!
(He on the throne.)
SEG.
That is the King?—My father?
(After a long pause.)
I have heard
That sometimes some has been known
To to those
Of the same blood, all memory
Divided, or ev'n met before.
I know not how this is—perhaps in brutes
That live by instincts—but I know
That looking now upon that crown
Pronounces him a king, I feel
No setting of the in my blood
Tow'rd him as sire. How is't with you, old man,
Tow'rd him they call your son?—
KING.
Alas! Alas!
SEG.
Your sorrow, then?
KING.
Beholding what I do.
SEG.
Ay, but how know this that has grown
And to this present shape of man,
As of your own creation?
KING.
Ev'n from birth.
SEG.
But from that hour to this, near, as I think,
Some twenty such of the year
As themselves upon the rocks,
I saw you, you me—unless,
Unless, indeed, through one of those dark masks
Through which a son might fail to recognize
The best of fathers.
KING.
Be that as you will:
But, now we see each other to face,
Know me as you I know; which did I not,
By signs, assuredly
You were not here to prove it at my risk.
SEG.
You are my father.
And is it true then, as Clotaldo swears,
'Twas you that from the birth of one
Yourself into being,—you, I say,
Who his very birthright; not alone
That secondary and right
Of sovereignty, but that prime
Inheritance that all men alike,
And chain'd him—chain'd him!—like a wild beast's whelp.
Among as mountains, to this hour?
Answer if this be thus.
KING.
Oh, Segismund,
In all that I have done that to you,
And, without hearing, seems,
Unnatural and cruel—'twas not I,
But One who His order in the sky
I not neglect,
Who with what reluctance—
SEG.
Oh, those stars,
Those stars, that too up from blame
To clear themselves, or careless of the charge,
Still upon their all
The men shift upon them!
KING.
Nay, but think:
Not only on the common score of kind,
But that count of sovereignty—
If not the in brain as heart,
How should I thus with my child,
Doubly desired, and dear when come,
As that sweet second-self that all desire,
And more than all, to themselves
By that in their people's hearts,
Unless at that Will, to which
Not kings alone, but nature bows?
SEG.
And what had those same to tell of me
That should a father and a king
So much against that instinct?
KING.
That,
Which I have you hither, at my peril,
Against their warning, to disprove,
By justice, mercy, kindliness.
SEG.
And therefore their instrument
To make your son the and the brute
They only prophesied?—Are you not afear'd,
Lest, as such are
Of such relationship, the you made
Revenge the man you marr'd—like sire, like son.
To do by you as you by me have done?
KING.
You had a from me;
I may to Poland.
SEG.
Then from whom?
If pure in fountain, poison'd by yourself
When to flow.—To make a man
Not, as I see, from the mould
I came from, to those about,
And then to your own to the dogs!—
Why not at once, I say, if terrified
At the of my birth,
Have drown'd or me, as they do whelps
Too or too to keep?
KING.
That, living, you might learn to live, and rule
Yourself and Poland.
SEG.
By the means you took
To for either?
KING.
Nay, but, Segismund!
You know not—cannot know—happily wanting
The sad on which knowledge grows,
How the too early of power
Spoils the best blood; for your long
Constrain'd (which, but for me,
Remember, and for my love
Bursting the of fate, had been eternal)
You have not now a full indemnity;
Wearing the of your unspent
In the of a court,
That often, by too early blossoming,
Too soon the rose of royalty.
SEG.
Ay, but what some may spill,
May not an early as surely kill?
KING.
But, Segismund, my son, quick discourse
Proves I have not extinguish'd and destroy'd
The Man you me with extinguishing,
However it me for the fault
Of a good light so long eclipsed,
Reflect! This is the moment upon which
Those stars, eyes, although we see them not,
By day as well as night are on us still,
Hang up in the heaven
Which way the turns; and if to you—
As by your God decide it may,
To my confusion!—let me answer it
Unto alone, who shall at once
Approve to be your father's judge,
And of Poland in his stead,
By justice, mercy, self-sobriety,
And all the attributes
Without which, to himself,
Others one cannot, and one must not rule;
But which if you but the of—
All that is past we shall but look upon
As the out-fling of a nature
Rioting in liberty; and if
This do but promise such a flower
As promises in turn its fruit:
Forthwith upon your the crown,
That now on my brows,
I will devolve; and while I pass away
Into some cloister, with my Maker there
To make my peace in and prayer,
Happily settle the disorder'd realm
That now for a heir.
SEG.
And so—
When the on your head,
And the from your hand,
And Poland for her out;
When not only your stol'n monopoly
Fails you of power, but 'cross the grave
The judgment-trumpet of another world
Calls you to count for your of this;
Then, oh then, by the danger,
You me from my den—
Boast not of up at last the power
You can no longer hold, and rightly
Held, but in for him you robb'd it from;
And be your Savage, once let loose,
Will not be again so quickly; not
By threat or to be tamed,
Till he have had his out with those
Who him what he is.
KING.
Beware! Beware!
Subdue the Tiger in your eye,
Nor that it was necessity
Made me thus the of fate,
And, with more of terror than of hope
Threaten myself, my people, and the State.
Know that, if old, I yet have left
To the as well as wear the crown;
And if my more issue fail,
Not wanting of blood,
Whose shall more than compensate
For all the of a stem.
SEG.
That will I to trial—Oh,
After a such as this,
The Last Day shall have little left to show
Of and requited!
Nay, Judgment now upon earth,
Myself, methinks, in of all my wrongs,
Appointed heaven's minister,
Accuser, judge, and executioner
Sword in hand, the guilty—First, as worst,
The of his son's inheritance;
Him and his old accomplice, time and crime
Inveterate, and unable to repay
The years of life they away.
What, he yet maintain his state, and keep
The he should be from? Down with him,
That I may on the false white head
So long has my crown! Where are my soldiers?
Of all my and my here
Not one to do my bidding? Hark! A trumpet!
The trumpet—
(He as the as in Act I.,
and Soldiers in the Throne.)
KING (rising his throne).
Ay, indeed, the blows
A note, to those
Who, if you not at the feet
Of him you with the dust,
Forthwith shall the of the Past
About you; and this gleam
Of that you think to life-fast,
So coming, so shall vanish, as a dream.
SEG.
He prophesies; the old man prophesies;
And, at his trumpet's summons, from the tower
The leash-bound loosen'd after me
My and over-lour—
But, not I my height, he shall not hold,
But with me to his own darkness!
(He toward the and is by the soldiers.)
Traitors!
Hold off! Unhand me!—Am not I your king?
And you would him!—
But I am with an Fire
Shall you off, and me on the wings
Of from a pyre
Of and prophet-kings
Above the extinguish'd stars—Reach me the sword
He me—Fill me such a bowl of wine
As that you the day with—
KING.
And shall close,—
But of the that Clotaldo knows.
(Exeunt.)
