Teja.
Found ye that your King loved life overmuch?
Bishop.
My King!
Teja.
Nay, that dared ye not, for every hour of this life would hold ye up to mockery.... And even if the ancient law required it, why must ye weld me with this young thing which, trembling for fear before me and ye, hideth in her mother's skirts? And especially on so fitting a day, when hunger doth furnish the marriage music.... Look upon me, Queen--I must call thee by thy title of a half-hour, for, by God! I hardly yet know thy name. I pray thee, look upon me! Dost thou know me?
Balthilda.
Thou art the King, Sire.
Teja.
Yea. But for thee I should be man, not King.... And knowest thou what manner of man standeth here before thee?... Behold! These arms have been hitherto plunged in reeking blood, not the blood of men shed in manly strife, I speak not of that, that honoureth the man--blood of unarmed pale children, of--(shudders)--Thou shalt have great joy, if I come with these arms to wind them about thy neck.... Dost thou indeed hear me? Have I not a beautiful voice, a sweet voice? Only it is a little hoarse. It is weary with screaming loud commands to murder.... Peculiar pleasure shall be thine when thou hearest tender words with this bewitching hoarseness. Am I not truly a born lover? These wise men knew that; therefore they taught me my calling.... Or believe ye, it was your duty to beguile your King in the weariness of camp life; as the great Justinian dallied in golden Byzantium, and sent forth his eunuchs to slay Gothic men? Ha, ha, ha!