CARLOMAN.
Of private matters?
My Astolph, Lombardy ...
MARCOMIR.
To say farewell,
To bless you. I am here as from the King;
I showed the monks a parchment with the seal
You used when you were ruler: it was found
Among her jewels ...
CARLOMAN.
Ah, I see, a gift.
So you too play the King. My signet yours,
Ay, and all else that ever bore my name.
Keep it.
MARCOMIR.
But Carloman—
CARLOMAN.
I cannot wait
To hear; I have so very little time
To speak in and such hatred; hate that burns
My heart through to the core. You, all of you,
So glad that I am sunk here; Geneviva
Moving no step to me; and that great Pope,
I gave my soul to in a wondering love,
Vexed that he cannot tame me, not desiring
My help, my pardon. You must hear it all—
I am not in despair: I have a treasure,
A burthen at my heart—where it belongs
I do not know. I have tried many names,
Tried God’s ... You see me dying, that may be;
But not till I have cast my burthen down
Can I be certain of my journey’s end.
How very still your face is! Are you dreaming,
You look so happy? And that scarlet cloak—
Where is your habit?