KING OF ARAGON.
Break, heart, and end my pallid woes!
My Amadine, the comfort of my life,
How can I joy, except she were in sight?
Her absence breeds sorrow to my soul
And with a thunder breaks my heart in twain.
COLLEN.
Forbear those passions, gentle king,
And you shall see ’twill turn unto the best,
And bring your soul to quiet and to joy.
KING OF ARAGON.
Such joy as death, I do assure me that,
And nought but death, unless of her I hear,
And that with speed; I cannot sigh thus long—
But what a tumult do I hear within?
[They cry within, ‘Joy and happiness.’]
COLLEN.
I hear a noise of overpassing joy
Within the court. My lord, be of good comfort,
And here comes one in haste.
Enter the Clown running.
MOUSE.
A king, a king, a king!
COLLEN.
Why, how now, sirrah? What’s the matter?
MOUSE.
Oh, ’tis news for a king, ’tis worth money.
COLLEN.
Why, sirrah, thou shalt have silver and gold, if it be good.