King.
Alas! with vast environment of ills
I’m hedged all round. Misfortune, like a sea,
Comes rushing in: the deep unfathomed flood
I fear to cross, and find no harbour nigh.
Thy prayer if I refuse, black horror rises
Before me, that no highest-pointed aim
May overshoot. If posted fore these walls
I give thy kindred battle, I shall be
Amerced with bitter loss, who reckless dared