_Ishui._ Insolent! Answer; I am not milky Jonathan, Answer; and for the rest--You hear?
_Adah._ I care not! She is unkind; I will not spy for her On Michal, and I'll tell her secrets all! And David does not love her--and she raves.
_Ishui_ (_gnashingly_). Then see you now how "lovable" he is? I tell you that he stands athwart us all! The heart of Merab swung as a censer to him, My seat at table with the king usurped! Mildew and mocking to the harp of Doeg As it were any slave's; the while we all Are lepered with suspicion.
(_Enter_ MICHAL, _passing, with_ MIRIAM.)
_Michal._ He's not at rest; dreads Samuel's prophecy The throne shall pass from him, and darkens more Against this boundless Philistine Goliath Who dares at Israel daily on the hills, As we were dogs!
_Michal._ No; But he is sent for--and will ease him--Ah! He's wonderful to heal the king with his harp! A waft, a sunny leap of melody, And swift the hovering mad shadow's gone-- As magic!
_Ishui._ Disdaining Doeg and his plea to dust, His waiting and the winning o'er of Edom, You are enamoured of this David too?
_Michal._ I think my brother Ishui hath a fever.
_Ishui._ Now are you kindled--are you quivering, Or must this shepherd put upon us more?
_Adriel._ But has he not dealt honourably?
_Ishui._ Why have senses. He With Samuel the prophet fast enshrouds Some secret, and has Samuel not told The kingdom from my father shall be rent And fall unto one another?
_Ishui._ And Samuel With prophecy or some refusal tears him!
(_They step aside._ SAUL, _followed by_ SAMUEL, _strides in and mounts the throne._)
_Saul._ You threat, and ever thunder threatening! Pour seething prophecy into my veins, Till a simoon of madness in me moves. Am I not king, the king? chosen and sealed? Who've been anathema and have been bane Unto the foes of Israel, and filled The earth with death of them? And do you still forbid that I bear gold And bribe away this Philistine array Folded about us, fettering with flame?
_Samuel._ Yes,--yes! While there is air--and awe of Heaven Do I forbid! A champion must rise To level this Goliath. Thus may we Loose on them pest of panic and of fear.
_Saul._ Are forty days not dead? A champion! None will arise--'tis vain. And I'll not wait On miracle.