GUENDOLEN.

Piteous!
Who lives so low and looks upon the sky
As would desire--who shares the sun with us
That might deserve thy pity?

CAMBER.

Thou.

GUENDOLEN.

Not I,
Though I were cast out hence, cast off, discrowned,
Abject, ungirt of all that guards me round,
Naked. What villainous madness, knave and king,
Is this that puts upon thy babbling tongue
Poison?

CAMBER.

The truth is as a snake to sting
That breathes ill news: but where its fang hath stung
The very pang bids health and healing spring.
God knows the grief wherewith my spirit is wrung -
The spirit of thee so scorned, so misesteemed,
So mocked with strange misprision and misdeemed
Merciless, false, unbrotherly--to take
Such task upon it as may burn thine heart