Methinks your tongue is gayer than your glance.
The King, I hope, was gracious?

I:2:12 ALAR.
Were he not,
My frown's as prompt as his. He was most gracious.

I:2:13 COUN.
Something has chafed thee?

I:2:14 ALAR.
What should chafe me, child,
And when should hearts be light, if mine be dull?
Is not mine exile over? Is it nought
To breathe in the same house where we were born,
And sleep where slept our fathers? Should that chafe?

I:2:15 COUN.
Yet didst then leave my side this very morn,
And with a vow this day should ever count
Amid thy life most happy; when we meet
Thy brow is clouded.

I:2:16 ALAR.
Joy is sometimes grave,
And deepest when 'tis calm. And I am joyful
If it be joy, this long forbidden hall
Once more to pace, and feel each fearless step
Tread on a baffled foe.