He. I was mad. This business has touched me in the brain.
Have patience! the calamity’s so new.
(Pauses.) There is a fourth way, but the gate is shut
To brave men who hold life a thing of God.
She. Yourself spake there; the rest was not of you.
He. Oh, lift me to your level! So I’m safe.
What’s to be done?
She. There must be some path out. Perhaps the Emperor—
He. Not a ray of hope! His mind is set on this with that insistence
Which seems to seize on all match-making folk—