MARQUIS.
'Tis true.
QUEEN.
By you?
MARQUIS.
By me?
QUEEN (looks at him for some time doubtingly).
I still respect your actions
E'en when I comprehend them not. In this
Pardon a timid woman! I much fear
You play a dangerous game.
MARQUIS.
And I have lost it.
QUEEN.
Merciful heaven!
MARQUIS.
Queen, fear not! He is safe,
But I am lost myself.
QUEEN.
What do I hear?
MARQUIS.
Who bade me hazard all on one chance throw?
All? And with rash, foolhardy confidence,
Sport with the power of heaven? Of bounded mind,
Man, who is not omniscient, must not dare
To guide the helm of destiny. 'Tis just!
But why these thoughts of self. This hour is precious
As life can be to man: and who can tell
Whether the parsimonious hand of fate
May not have measured my last drops of life.
QUEEN.
The hand of fate! What means this solemn tone?
I understand these words not—but I shudder.