KING. To the point. What babbling this—
ISAAC. Who is this lord?
GARCERAN. It makes no difference. Speak!
What is the cause of all that noise above?
ISAAC (speaking up to the window).
Look out, you're going to catch it—now look out!
(To GARCERAN.)
Yourself have seen my little Rachel-girl,
And how she wept and groaned and beat her breasts,
As if half crazed. Of course you have, my life!—
She hardly knew the danger had been passed
When back again her old high spirits came;
She laughed, and danced, and sang; half mad again
She shoved awry the sacred furniture
By dead men watched, and raves—as now you hear.
Hangs from her girdle not a chatelaine?
Her keys she tries in every closet lock,
And opens all the doors along the wall.
There hang within all sorts of things to wear,
And angels, devils, beggars vie with kings
In gay attire—
KING (aside to GARCERAN).
Our carnival costumes.
ISAAC. She chose, herself, a plumèd crown from these,—
It was not gold, but only gilded tin—
One tells it by the weight, worth twenty pence;
About her shoulders throws a trained robe
And says she is the queen—
(Speaking back.)