Those who are dead depart, and those who are living
Must stand before the world and confess their o'er burdened souls.
I stand alone and wounded.
The King: This child is dead?
Tête-d'or: He is dead.
(The king drops his head on his breast.
Yes, that sight is bitterer than sourest herbs! Oh!
I was for him as Athens was for Argos,
Yet I shall bear this also and my patient heart shall not be shaken
For now I must proclaim myself to all.