Deep feelings rush, so mingling and so fast,
My voice perchance might tremble.
Gon. Citizen,
What festal night is this, that all your streets
Are throng’d and glittering thus?
1st Cit. Hast thou not heard
Of the king’s entry, in triumphal pomp,
This very morn?
Gon. The king! triumphal pomp!—
Thy words are dark.