CHARLES: Well?

CECCO: Nothing: but----

CHARLES: Subtle! your nothing harboreth some theft
Of spial.

CECCO: Sir, I--no--that is----

CHARLES: That is
It does! Must I--persuade it from your throat?
(_Makes to choke him._)

CECCO: It was of lord Antonio----

CHARLES: Speak then.

CECCO: Have you not marked him sundry of his moods?

CHARLES: Well?

CECCO: On his back in the wood as if the leaves
Sung fairy balladry; then riding wild
Nowhither and alone; about the castle
Yearning, yet absent to soft speech and arms!
He'll drink, sir, and not know if it be wine!

CHARLES: So is he! but to-day he bold unsheathed
His skill and bravery.

CECCO: And did not crave
A boon of you?

CHARLES: None. But you put not ill
My thought to it. His aspiration flags----

CECCO: Ah, flags.

CHARLES: New wings it needs and buoyancy.
My trust in him is ripe: the fruit of it,
He shall be lord of Arta--total lord.

CECCO: He begged no softer boon?

CHARLES: Cunning! again?
Sleek questions of a sleeker consequence?

CECCO: It was, sir, only of Antonio.

CHARLES: Worm, you began so. Stretch now to the end,
Or--will you?

CECCO: I would say--would ask--and hope
There is no thorny hint in it to vex you,
To prick your humor--may not he be sick,
Amorous, mellow sick upon some maid?

CHARLES: Have you so labored to this atom's birth?
Is a boy's passion so new under the moon
You gape at it?

CECCO: But if, sir----

CHARLES: I had thought
Would start up in your words some Titan woe,
No human catapult could war upon!
Some dread colossal doom, frenzied to fall!
Were it he's traitor gnawing at my throne,
Or ready with some potent cruelty
To blight this tenderness new-sprung in me--
I would--even have listened!

(_Noise is heard at the postern. It is unlocked. HAEMON
enters, and stops in consternation._)

CHARLES: Keys? To--this?

HAEMON: I--have excuse.

CHARLES: Perchance also you have
Them to my gems and secrecies? Shall I
Not show their hiding?--rubies, and fair gold?

HAEMON: Mistake me not, my lord.

CHARLES: I could not: you
H