Offend no more, and I'll excuse what's past. [Tatlanthe aside, rising.
Tat. Why, what a fool was I, not to perceive her passion for the topsy-turvy king—the gentleman that carries his head where his heels should be! But I must tack about, I see.
To the Queen.
Excuse me, gracious madam, if my heart
Bears sympathy with yours in every part;
With you alike, I sorrow and rejoice,
Approve your passion, and commend your choice;
The captive king.
Queen. That's he! that's he! that's he!
I'd die ten thousand deaths to set him free.