Jesse:
Nay, all my sons are equal in my love.
But David—he is indeed a gentle lad.
(He turns as though to go out. Left.)
(The Prophet Samuel enters slowly from the right.)
Eliab:
My father, who comes there?
Nay, there, through the budding barley?
The old man with so lofty a bearing?
Jesse: Mine eyes are dim. (He shades them and peers out. Suddenly he speaks.)
My son, it is the prophet Samuel.
What can his coming bode of good or evil?
Haste, haste, my son.