Would I slept
With my grey fathers!

II:4:53 KING.
And my daughter too!
O most unhappy pair!

II:4:54 ALAR.
There is a way.
To cure such woes, one only.

II:4:55 KING.
'Tis my thought.

II:4:56 ALAR.
No cloister shall entomb this life; the grave
Shall be my refuge,

II:4:57 KING.
Yet to die were witless,
When Death, who with his fatal finger taps
At princely doors, as freely as he gives
His summons to the serf, may at this instant
Have sealed the only life that throws a shade
Between us and the sun.

II:4:58 ALAR.
She's very young.

II:4:59 KING.
And may live long, as I do hope she will;
Yet have I known as blooming as she die,
And that most suddenly. The air of cities
To unaccustomed lungs is very fatal;
Perchance the absence of her accustomed sports,
The presence of strange faces, and a longing
For those she has been bred among: I've known
This most pernicious: she might droop and pine,
And when they fail, they sink most rapidly.
God grant she may not; yet I do remind thee
Of this wild chance, when speaking of thy lot.
In truth 'tis sharp, and yet I would not die
When Time, the great enchanter, may change all,
By bringing somewhat earlier to thy gate
A doom that must arrive.

II:4:60 ALAR.
Would it were there!

II:4:61 KING.
'Twould be the day thy hand should clasp my daughter's,
That thou hast loved so Ion; 'twould be the day
My crown, the crown of all my realms, Alarcos,
Should bind thy royal brow. Is this the morn
Breaks in our chamber? Why, I did but mean
To say good night unto my gentle cousin
So long unseen. O, we have gossiped, coz,
So cheering dreams!

[Exeunt.]

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

AC