In truth, I've seen him wear this very belt.
'Twas wrong to take it, Glaia. He belongs
So wholly to the king that you can have
No portion of his love, lest he betray
Himself and thee. Go, get you ready, child,
To leave this place. For you 'tis full of dangers.
Gla. Back to the woods? O happiness! But I—
Ah, must we go so soon?
Rol. It was your prayer.
Gla. But then—I had not—strange! Why is it, Roland,