Blinkers you’ll wear, like a raging bull.
Then you’ll recognise that your bride is lovely,—
And ne’er will your vision be troubled, as now,
With bell-cows harping and sows that dance.
Peer.
This is madman’s talk!
The Oldest Courtier.
It’s the Dovrë-King speaking;
’Tis he that is wise, and ’tis you that are crazy!
The Old Man.