And maiden fancies ; loved to live alone
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mong her women ; certain, would not wed. That morning in the presence-room I stood 50With Cyril and with Florian, my two friends :The first, a gentleman of broken means(His father’s fault) but given to starts and burstsOf revel ; and the last, my other heart,And almost my half-self, for still we moved 55Together, twinn’d as horse’s ear and eye. Now, while they spake, I saw my father’s faceGrow long and troubled, like a rising moon,Inflamed with wrath : he started on his feet,Tore the king’s letter, snow’d it down, and rent 60The wonder of the loom thro’ warp and woofT'rom skirt to skirt ; and at the last he swareThat he would send a hundred thousand men,And bring her in a whirlwind: then he chew’dThe thrice-turn’d cud of wrath, and cook’d his spleen,Communing with his captains of the war. 66At last I spoke. “ My father, let me go.It cannot be but some gross error liesIn this report, this answer of a king, 50. presence-room, audience-chamber. 64. chewed the thrice-turned cud of wrathinsult. 65. cooked his spleen, let his heart brood over his anger. The an- cients believed that the spleen was the seat of wrath, as the heart —was that of love. » meditated upon the rye
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