THE PROCURESS.
(To Alma.) Don't allow this vagabond to set your head whirling, for Heaven's sake, my dear! You don't know how cozy my house is! The whole day you can amuse yourself with a band of the liveliest companions. If the ballad singer won't sell you to me, let's run away from him. Don't be afraid of him! You will be as safe under my protection as if you were surrounded by a whole army corps.
ALMA.
(Wrenching herself from the Procuress grasp.) I will speak to him. (Goes from her to the King. With trembling voice.) Do you remember, my father, why we came to this beggars' fair?
THE KING.
I know, my child. (He mounts the rock and is received until dry coughs. Then he speaks in a clear tone, but with inward emotion.)
I am the ruler over all this land,
By God anointed, but by no one known!
And should I shriek until the mountains bent
That I am ruler over all this land,
The very birds would chirp a mock at me!
What profit then is this, my kingly thought
When hungering I snap with eager teeth,
As in the winter months the starving beasts?
But not to make a plaint of all my woes
Come I, my folk, to you!
THE SPECTATORS.
(Break into shrill laughter, applaud stormily and cry loudly.) Da capo! Da capo!
THE KING.