Take the road, then, with God's blessing,
Leave my house, for it would be
Sad in it to raise my hand,
Leaving you dead flesh on land
Who wert living fish at sea.
PHILIP. The suspicion that you show
Is quite groundless, do not doubt it.
PAUL. Zounds! with reason or without it,
Am I married, sir, or no?
* * * * *
SCENE VII.
LEOGAIRE, an Old Peasant, and PATRICK.
LEOGAIRE. So 'tis ordered, and that he
Serving here from day to day,
In the open field should stay.
OLD MAN. Yes; I say it so shall be.
LEOGAIRE. But who's this? O happiness!
Since 'tis Philip's form I greet.
Mighty lord, I kiss thy feet.
PAUL. Mighty lord does he call him?
LUCY. Yes.
Now lay on the blows you owe.
Now, friend Paul, the moment charms.
PHILIP. Give me, good Leogaire, your arms.
LEOGAIRE. Honour in them you bestow.
Is it possible, once more
That alive I see thee?
PHILIP. Here,
Trophy of a fate severe,
The sea flung me on this shore,
Where, their willing aid secured,
I have lived these peasants' guest,
Till I could repair with rest
All the sufferings I endured.
And, besides, I thought with dread
On the angry disposition
Of the king: for his ambition
When has it or bowed the head,
Or with patience heard related
The sad tragedies of fate?
Hopeless and disconsolate
In this solitude I've waited,
Till some happy chance might rise
When no longer I should grieve,
And the king would give me leave
To appear before his eyes.
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