THE KING: It gives me
pleasure
when you speak like that.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
,
_a grey-haired, weak-minded man, is sitting, pale and
sorrowful, in a chair of state. _ L'ANGELY _stands beside him. _
THE KING: Oh, it is miserable to be a king
That lives but does not govern. Richelieu
Is killing all my friends. I sometimes think
He wants their blood to dye his scarlet robes.
L'ANGELY: He works for France, sire----
THE KING: Yes, and for himself.
I hate him. Never did a king of France
Govern with so tyrannical a hand
As he now does. A single word from me
And all his pomp and splendour, all his power,
Would vanish. But I cannot say the word;
He will not let me. Come, amuse me, fool!
L'ANGELY: Is not life, sire, a thing of bitterness?
THE KING: It is. Man is a shadow.
L'ANGELY: And a king
The miserablest creature on this earth.
THE KING: It gives me pleasure when you speak like that.
I wish that I were dead. In all the world
You are the only man I ever found
Worth listening to. I often wonder why
You care to live. What are you? A poor fool--
A puppet that I jerk to make me laugh.
L'ANGELY: I live on out of curiosity.
The puppet of the king, I sit and watch
The antics of the puppet of the priest!
THE KING: Yes, that is what I am. You speak the truth.
Could Satan not become a cardinal,
And take possession of my very soul?
L'ANGELY: I think that's what has happened.
THE KING: He loves blood,
The cardinal! It was the Huguenots
Yesterday that he wanted to behead,
And now it is the duellists. Blood! Blood!
_a grey-haired, weak-minded man, is sitting, pale and
sorrowful, in a chair of state. _ L'ANGELY _stands beside him. _
THE KING: Oh, it is miserable to be a king
That lives but does not govern. Richelieu
Is killing all my friends. I sometimes think
He wants their blood to dye his scarlet robes.
L'ANGELY: He works for France, sire----
THE KING: Yes, and for himself.
I hate him. Never did a king of France
Govern with so tyrannical a hand
As he now does. A single word from me
And all his pomp and splendour, all his power,
Would vanish. But I cannot say the word;
He will not let me. Come, amuse me, fool!
L'ANGELY: Is not life, sire, a thing of bitterness?
THE KING: It is. Man is a shadow.
L'ANGELY: And a king
The miserablest creature on this earth.
THE KING: It gives me pleasure when you speak like that.
I wish that I were dead. In all the world
You are the only man I ever found
Worth listening to. I often wonder why
You care to live. What are you? A poor fool--
A puppet that I jerk to make me laugh.
L'ANGELY: I live on out of curiosity.
The puppet of the king, I sit and watch
The antics of the puppet of the priest!
THE KING: Yes, that is what I am. You speak the truth.
Could Satan not become a cardinal,
And take possession of my very soul?
L'ANGELY: I think that's what has happened.
THE KING: He loves blood,
The cardinal! It was the Huguenots
Yesterday that he wanted to behead,
And now it is the duellists. Blood! Blood!
