Pray for me,
If you are in God’s favour. Teach me how
To win a better throne than I have lost,
Safe from my brother, a perpetual seat
High in the heavens.
CARLOMAN.
[with a ringing laugh] If that is your ambition,
Oh then, how clear it is that you are damned,
Wherever you may lodge!
RACHIS.
Ha—terrible!
You must not curse me; as the meanest slave
I am content to cringe ...
CARLOMAN.
And heaven detests
A beggar’s whining. God is made for Kings,
Who need no favours, come to Him for nothing
Except Himself.
RACHIS.
But does that satisfy?
You who have borne the Convent many months—