CHARLES: Cease: but a whisper of his name and I
Am frenzy--frenzy--though the stillness burns
And bursts with it!
(_CECCO steps back. A pause._)
CHARLES: The sun, how hangs it now?
CECCO (_going to window_): Above the bloody waving of the sea,
Eager to dip.
CHARLES (_staggering up_): Ah, I was in a foam----
Bitten by hounds of fury and despair!
Did you not, Fulvia, pleading for them say
They quailed but would not flee and leave me waste?
CECCO: She is not here, my liege.
CHARLES: Antonio!
Ah, boy! thou ever wast to me as wafts
Of light, of song, of summer on the hills!
Soft now I feel thy baby arms about me,
And all the burgeon of thy youth, ere proud
And cruel years grew in me, comes again
On wings and stealing winds of memory!