A. You ask, why am I sad!—Give ear to me:—
When I was young, I was a fool,—and married.
The girl I wed was like a bright June morning;
Fresh, fragrant, dewy-lipped, and azure-eyed,
And floated onward with a cloud-like motion;
And when she owned her love for me, her cheek
Out-blushed the burning sun at Midsummer.
  B. And yet you were a fool?
  A. Ay, a mad fool.
For, look,—she was more humble than the dust;
A peasant's daughter. I,—who track my line
Even unto fable, and am honour-bound
To keep my golden lineage unalloyed,
Did wrong to heroes and to kings, my sires,
To mix their blood with baseness.