I
heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the
very mice were consulting on the manner of her death.
heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the
very mice were consulting on the manner of her death.
Shelley
_424
QUEEN:
Who taught you this trash, sirrah?
ARCHY:
A torn leaf out of an old book trampled in the dirt. --But for the
rainbow. It moved as the sun moved, and. . . until the top of the
Tower. . . of a cloud through its left-hand tip, and Lambeth Palace look
as dark as a rock before the other. Methought I saw a crown figured
upon one tip, and a mitre on the other. So, as I had heard treasures
were found where the rainbow quenches its points upon the earth, I set
off, and at the Tower-- But I shall not tell your Majesty what I found
close to the closet-window on which the rainbow had glimmered.
KING:
Speak: I will make my Fool my conscience. _435
ARCHY:
Then conscience is a fool. --I saw there a cat caught in a rat-trap.
I
heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the
very mice were consulting on the manner of her death.
QUEEN:
Archy is shrewd and bitter.
ARCHY:
Like the season, _440
So blow the winds. --But at the other end of the rainbow, where the
gray rain was tempered along the grass and leaves by a tender
interfusion of violet and gold in the meadows beyond Lambeth, what
think you that I found instead of a mitre?
KING:
Vane's wits perhaps. _445
ARCHY:
Something as vain. I saw a gross vapour hovering in a stinking ditch
over the carcass of a dead ass, some rotten rags, and broken
dishes--the wrecks of what once administered to the stuffing-out and
the ornament of a worm of worms. His Grace of Canterbury expects to
enter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost of
this ass. _451
QUEEN:
Enough, enough! Go desire Lady Jane
She place my lute, together with the music
Mari received last week from Italy,
In my boudoir, and--
[EXIT ARCHY. ]
KING:
I'll go in.
NOTE:
_254-_455 For by. . . I'll go in 1870; omitted 1824.
QUEEN:
MY beloved lord, _455
Have you not noted that the Fool of late
Has lost his careless mirth, and that his words
Sound like the echoes of our saddest fears?
QUEEN:
Who taught you this trash, sirrah?
ARCHY:
A torn leaf out of an old book trampled in the dirt. --But for the
rainbow. It moved as the sun moved, and. . . until the top of the
Tower. . . of a cloud through its left-hand tip, and Lambeth Palace look
as dark as a rock before the other. Methought I saw a crown figured
upon one tip, and a mitre on the other. So, as I had heard treasures
were found where the rainbow quenches its points upon the earth, I set
off, and at the Tower-- But I shall not tell your Majesty what I found
close to the closet-window on which the rainbow had glimmered.
KING:
Speak: I will make my Fool my conscience. _435
ARCHY:
Then conscience is a fool. --I saw there a cat caught in a rat-trap.
I
heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the
very mice were consulting on the manner of her death.
QUEEN:
Archy is shrewd and bitter.
ARCHY:
Like the season, _440
So blow the winds. --But at the other end of the rainbow, where the
gray rain was tempered along the grass and leaves by a tender
interfusion of violet and gold in the meadows beyond Lambeth, what
think you that I found instead of a mitre?
KING:
Vane's wits perhaps. _445
ARCHY:
Something as vain. I saw a gross vapour hovering in a stinking ditch
over the carcass of a dead ass, some rotten rags, and broken
dishes--the wrecks of what once administered to the stuffing-out and
the ornament of a worm of worms. His Grace of Canterbury expects to
enter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost of
this ass. _451
QUEEN:
Enough, enough! Go desire Lady Jane
She place my lute, together with the music
Mari received last week from Italy,
In my boudoir, and--
[EXIT ARCHY. ]
KING:
I'll go in.
NOTE:
_254-_455 For by. . . I'll go in 1870; omitted 1824.
QUEEN:
MY beloved lord, _455
Have you not noted that the Fool of late
Has lost his careless mirth, and that his words
Sound like the echoes of our saddest fears?
