Claudius.
Jupiter doth know the anguish,
My good lord, with which I venture
To approach thee since this happened.
Polemius.
Claudius, as thine own, I 'm sure,
Thou dost feel this great disaster.
Claudius.
I my promise gave thee that
To Chrysanthus . . .
Polemius.
Cease; I ask thee
Not to proffer these excuses,
Since I do not care to have them.
Claudius.
Then it seems that all thy efforts
Have been useless to unravel
The strange mystery of his fate?
Polemius.
With these questions do not rack me;
For, though I would rather not
Give the answer, still the answer
Rises with such ready aptness
To my lips from out my heart,
That I scarcely can withstand it.
Claudius.
Why conceal it then from me,
Knowing that thy blood meanders
Through my veins, and that my life
Owns thee as its lord and master?—
Oh! my lord, confide in me,
Let thy tongue speak once the language
That thine eyes so oft have spoken.
Polemius.
Let the servants leave the apartment.