And I
An extra horse; for, lunatic or sane,
I must have speech with——
[turning to Carloman with a laugh]
Do you know your name?
We who are kings and soldiers know it well,
And Christendom remembers. Ah, I see!
You are not happy, so they call you mad.
RACHIS.
Have you no word for me? I am a King,
A King discrowned—and more, you have my crown.
Are you grown sick of it?
ASTOLPH.
My dear old Rachis,
Do not look covetous! I am not come
To take you from your prayers.
RACHIS.
You think you triumph,
But when you roll your thirsty tongue in hell,
And see me in the peace of Abraham’s bosom,
Watching your pain—