King. He's gone, and now there's not so vile a thing
As I—
Don John. Remember, sir, you are a king.
King. A king! it is too little: I'll be more,
I tell thee: Nero was an emperor;
He killed his mother, but I've that out-done,
Murdered a loyal wife and guiltless son.
Yet, Austria, why should I grow mad for that?
Is it my fault I was unfortunate?
Don John. Collect your spirits, sir, and calm your mind.
King. Look to't; strange things I tell thee are designed.
Thou, Austria, shalt grow old, and in thy age
Dote, dote, my hero:—oh, a long gray beard,
With eyes distilling rheum, and hollow cheeks,
Will be such charms, thou canst not want success!
But, above all, beware of jealousy;
It was the dreadful curse that ruined me.
Don John. Dread sir, no more.
King. O heart! O Heaven! but stay,
Named I not Heaven? I did, and at the word
(Methought I saw't) the azure fabric stirred.
Oh, for my queen and son the saints prepare;
But I'll pursue and overtake them there;
Whirl, stop the sun, arrest his charioteer;
I'll ride in that: away! pull, pull him down!
Oh, how I'll hurl the wild-fire as I run!
Now, now I mount— [Runs off raving.
Don John. Look to the king.
See of this fair one, too, strict care be had.
[Pointing to Henrietta.
Despair, how vast a triumph hast thou made!
No more in love's enervate charms I'll lie;
Shaking off softness, to the camp I'll fly,
Where thirst of fame the active hero warms;
And what I've lost in peace, regain in arms. [Exeunt.