THE KING.
(Weeping.)
Behold my head is bent unto the earth
By pains of hell!
ALMA.
Then pluck up heart again,
Torture of innocents will calm your own!
THE KING.
(With trembling voice.)
You beast, you are the stronger of us twain,
But grant a brief respite before I heap
New cruelties upon forgotten ones.
I crawl like any worm upon the dust.
My better self, which I have lost to you,
Begs that you do not press your might too far.
New victims soon will fall within my clutch;
The tongue which has already tasted blood
Beseeches you to save them from its rage.
KING PIETRO.
(Rising from his chair.) You carry your jests somewhat too far up there! What will the foolish multitude think when it sees royal majesty so brought to dust!