King [turning round]. What wilt thou here?
Queen [opening her eyes]. Didst thou not call?
King. I--call thee?... But hush!... No, nothing, nothing! No shadow climbs the starred blue sky ... no light ... only the moon laughs in the green water, and laughs ... and laughs.... The world is drained quite empty. Thou hast done well, Maria ... thou holdest thy watch faithfully. No spy could have done better.
Queen. I came because thou--
King. Hast called me? Was that it? I knew it well.
Queen. And if thou hadst not called--
King. Thou wouldst still have come, to see that no thief was gliding up the steps of thy throne [aside] alone, alas, alone--a thief of fortune, such as pious women like thyself, whose longings form but to be granted, brew spectre-like in their porridge pots. Wouldst thou not?
Queen. For God's sake, what burns there?
King. My manhood! Let it burn, child, let it burn! While I sat piously amid thy flock, there came a flame of piety upon me, burning more fiercely than myself, and burned and burned, until I was consumed with piety.... But thou, woman, that thou mayst know how in this dark hour thou hast snatched the cup of freedom from my longing lips,--I ask thee, woman, what have I done to thee? What have I done, that thy love-longing--I will not mock, else I had said love-lust--should force me, who was naught to thee, to grovel in the dust here at thy feet? Now hast thou what thou wilt. Here stands thy spouse, the second father of thy son,--thy mock, thy love potion and thy sleeping-draught, catch-poll of the great, butt of the small, and to both a vent for every scorn. Yes, gaze upon me in my pride! This am I, this hast thou made of me!--speak, then, and stand not staring into space! Strike back, defend thyself; that is the way with happy married folk.... Well?
Queen. Witte, Witte!