Are dust on the moth’s wing; that nothing matters
But laughter and tears—laughter, laughter, and tears—
That every man should carry his own soul
Upon his shoulders.
Dectora. You’ve nothing but wild words,
And I would know if you would give me vengeance.
Forgael. When she finds out that I’ll not let her go—
When she knows that.
Dectora. What is it that you are muttering—
That you’ll not let me go? I am a queen.