[Footnote 3: Verba Tragica.]
SCENE VIII.—KING, GLUMDALCA.
King. [1] Sure never was so sad a king as I! [2] My life is worn as ragged as a coat A beggar wears; a prince should put it off. [3] To love a captive and a giantess! Oh love! oh love! how great a king art thou! My tongue's thy trumpet, and thou trumpetest, Unknown to me, within me. [4] Oh, Glumdalca! Heaven thee designed a giantess to make, But an angelick soul was shuffled in. [5] I am a multitude of walking griefs, And only on her lips the balm is found [6] To spread a plaster that might cure them all.
[Footnote 1: This speech has been terribly mauled by the poet.]
[Footnote 2:
——My life is worn to rags,
Not worth a prince's wearing.—Love Triumphant.
]
[Footnote 3:
Must I beg the pity of my slave?
Must a king beg? But love's a greater king,
A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me.
He tunes the organ of my voice and speaks,
Unknown to me, within me.—Sebastian.
]
[Footnote 4:
When thou wert form'd, heaven did a man begin;
But a brute soul by chance was shuffled in.—Aurengzebe.
]
[Footnote 5:
I am a multitude
Of walking griefs.—New Sophonisba.
]
[Footnote 6:
I will take thy scorpion blood,
And lay it to my grief till I have ease.—Anna Bullen.
]
Glum. What do I hear? King. What do I see? Glum. Oh! King. Ah! [1]Glum. Ah! wretched queen! King. Oh! wretched king! [2]Glum. Ah! King. Oh!