Very well. [Exit.
CHILD.
No, no; I shall go on playing with the young lion.
[Looks at the FEMALE ATTENDANT and laughs.
KING.
I feel an unaccountable affection for this wayward child.
How blessed the virtuous parents whose attire
Is soiled with dust, by raising from the ground
The child that asks a refuge in their arms!
And happy are they while with lisping prattle,
In accents sweetly inarticulate,
He charms their ears; and with his artless smiles
Gladdens their hearts[119], revealing to their gaze
His pearly teeth just budding into view.
ATTENDANT.
I see how it is. He pays me no manner of attention.
[Looking off the stage.]
I wonder whether any of the hermits are about here.