KING. Like an old fool, whose dim eyes, wanting sight,
Compar'st the sun to common candle light?
SAL. Pardon, my liege, I do confess her fair[299]
Exceeds all these as far as day doth night.
KING. Grossly alluded: night by moon, by stars
By wandering fires, exhaled meteors,
By artificial lights, by eyes of beasts,
And little glow-worms glimpsing in the dark,
Hath somewhere brightness, lightness; and sometime
Under each horizon in all parts clear:
But they at no time nowhere can be said
To be less dark than dungeon darkness is:
Pitch-colour'd, ebon-fac'd, blacker than black,
While her fair eyes give beauty to bright day.
SAL. To hear the queen thus prais'd works my content.
KING. The queen!
O, had I such a thought, I would repent. [To himself.
SAL. Further, my lord—
KING. What, shall we further wade?
I fear I shall be tired with this jade.
SAL. The commonwealth will flourish and increase.
KING. Good Salisbury,[300] of those things now hold your peace,
And take the pains to fetch in Isabel.
I have strange tidings sent me out of France,
Which she will take, I know, in as good part,
As I accept her praise. Fetch her, I say.
[Exit SALISBURY.
What, is the old fool gone? now go thy way.
What think'st thou of him, Hubert? tell me, man.
HUB. As of a good old gentleman, my lord,
That speaks but what he thinks, and thinks you think
As he doth; and, I warrant you,
Will not conceal those praises from the queen
Which, as he deems, you utter'd in her praise.