David. My cloak, then, for thy tattered limbs. Or, no—
This chain of Ophir for thy every need.
Once it was dear, but should be so no more.
(Flinging it to her). Have it, and with it vanish memory
Out of my breast——
Michal. No, no.
David. And from me fall
Link upon link her loveliness that bound.
David. Woman...?
Michal. Nothing. A chain like this
I once beheld wind undulantly bright
O'er Michal the king's daughter.
David. Woman, the king's?
Michal. Pity!
David. Who are you?
Michal. Stay! Unclean!