Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/414

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OTHO THE GREAT.
 Physician. Forgive me, but he must not see thy face.
 Otho. Is then a father's countenance a Gorgon? Hath it not comfort in it? Would it not Console my poor boy cheer him, heal his spirits? Let me embrace him; let me speak to him; I will! Who hinders me? Who's Emperor?
 Physician. You may not, Sire; 'twould overwhelm him quite, He is so full of grief and passionate wrath; Too heavy a sigh would kill him, or do worse. He must be saved by fine contrivances; And, most especially, we must keep clear Out of his sight a father whom he loves; His heart is full, it can contain no more, And do its ruddy office.
 Ethelbert.Sage advice;We must endeavor how to ease and slacken The tight-wound energies of his despair, Not make them tenser.
 Otho.Enough! I hear, I hear.Yet you were about to advise more,—I listen.
 Ethelbert. This learned doctor will agree with me,That not in the smallest point should he be thwarted, Or gainsaid by one word; his very motions, Nods, becks, and hints, should be obey'd with care, Even on the moment; so his troubled mind May cure itself.
 Physician.There are no other means.
 Otho. Open the door; let's hear if all is quiet.
 Physician. Beseech you. Sire, forbear.
 Erminia.Do, do.
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