The Language of the Birds: A Comedy (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from The Language of the Birds: A Comedy

Abishag (raises her veil). O Lord and Master, thy brow IS furrowed, thine eyes are full of trouble! (goes up to him.) What presseth upon thy soul, what maketh thy breast to heave in anguish? (sits down beside him.) Why do thy lips breathe bitterness, instead of smiling lovingly toward me? Did not my kisses gladden thee? Wert thou not happy in my love? Say, art thou weary of me already?

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