David. No...!
Abiathar. Slain at the hands of Doeg—murdered, all!
David. But he—your father?
Abiathar. Was among them; fell.
(He stands motionless.)
David (gently). Abiathar, my friend!... Appeaseless Saul!
Abiathar. Hear all, hear all! Thy father, too, and mother,
Even thy kindred, out of Israel
Are driven into Moab; and this king,
Delirious still for blood as a desert pard,
With Merab, whelp of him, and many armed,
Is near us now—a-quiver at Engeddi
For your destruction:
(David struggles for control.)
And yet you will not strike.
David (low). No, but of Michal, tell me good at once,
Lest unendurable this lot, I may——
Mounting o'er every oath into revenge.