'
He put a question to Tom in French. Tom stood silent a moment,
embarrassed by having so many eyes centered upon him, then said
diffidently:
'I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please your majesty.'
The king fell back upon his couch. The attendants flew to his
assistance; but he put them aside, and said:
'Trouble me not- it is nothing but a scurvy faintness. Raise me!
there, 'tis sufficient. Come hither, child; there, rest thy poor
troubled head upon thy father's heart, and be at peace. Thou'lt soon
be well; 'tis but a passing fantasy. Fear thou not; thou'lt soon be
well.' Then he turned toward the company; his gentle manner changed,
and baleful lightnings began to play from his eyes. He said:
'List ye all! This my son is mad; but it is not permanent.
Overstudy hath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement. Away
with his books and teachers! see ye to it. Pleasure him with sports,
beguile him in wholesome ways, so that his health come again.' He
raised himself higher still and went on with energy. 'He is mad; but
he is my son, and England's heir; and, mad or sane, still shall he
reign! And hear ye further, and proclaim it; whoso speaketh of this
his distemper worketh against the peace and order of these realms, and
shall to the gallows!... Give me to drink- I burn: This sorrow sappeth
my strength.... There, take away the cup.... Support me. There, that
is well. Mad, is he? Were he a thousand times mad, yet is he Prince of
Wales, and I the king will confirm it.
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