Osw. Ay,——
Ber. Do you not speak
Of Ardia?
Osw. Ardia! Gods! Wed Kidmir's trull?
Make me a doting grandsire to the heir
Of Charilus? Hear it, stars! Am I the fool
O' the earth? Give up my English forests, bare
My purse for troops, and foot by foot fight way
To Suli sands,—all this that I may set
A droning dotard's line upon a throne,
And be the ass of chronicle? O, poison!
Well, well, I'm done. The girl is fair enough.
And you shall have her if she pleases you.
But Berenice—there's your bride, my boy!
Ber. Wed Berenice? With that name you save me.
By that I see the darkness coiling deep
Along my bridal way. 'Twas Ardia's name
That lit the path till I dared let my eyes,
Though not my will, go venturing on 't.
Osw. My son,——
Ber. Never again, my father, speak to me
In this night's strain. Till morning I shall pray.
And then I fast. Good-night.
Osw. One moment. One!
The sunrise feast? Will you not be with us?
I drink with Charilus the cup of peace.
Ber. And love that breaks no peace?
Osw. [Assenting] See how you bend me?
All that you ask I give, but you to me
Yield nothing.
Ber. Sir, this sword, my knightly suit,
And princely title, make denial for me.