Ethw. No;
Thy shadow seem'd to me a crested youth.
Elb. And with that trusty weapon in thy grasp.
Which thou, of late, e'en on thy nightly couch
Hast sheathless kept, fearest thou living man?
Ethw. It was not living man I fear'd.
Elb. What then?
Last night when open burst your chamber door
With the rude blast, which it is wont to do,
You gaz'd upon it with such fearful looks
Of fix'd expectancy, as one, in truth,
Looks for the ent'ring of some dreadful thing.
Have you seen aught?
Ethw. Get to thy couch. Thinkst thou I will be question'd?
Elb. (putting her hand upon his shoulder soothingly.)
Nay, be not thus uncourtly! thou shalt tell me.
Ethw. (shaking her off impatiently.)
Be not a fool! get thee to sleep, I say!
What dost thou here?
Elb. That which, in truth, degrades my royal birth,
And therefore should be chid; servilely soothing
The fretful moods of one, who new to greatness,
Feels its unweildy robe sit on his shoulders
Constrain'd and gallingly.
Which with its other baubles I have snatch'd,
