She the half-guinea wisely does purloin,
And leaves the larger and the baser coin.
Glum. Left, scorn'd, and loath'd for such a chit as this;
I feel the storm that's rising in my mind,[139]
Tempests and whirlwinds rise, and roll, and roar.
I'm all within a hurricane, as if
The world's four winds were pent within my carcase.[140]
Confusion,[141] horror, murder, gripes, and death!
Scene VIII.
King, Glumdalca.