The guards plonk Linya's chair down between the benches, shove Miles into the room, and close the door.
He paces. He rants. He weeps and howls, sometimes carried by the emotions of the play, sometimes by his own. He falls over Linya's lap and sobs iambic pentameter into her knees, then jumps up again and onto his bench to declaim the next lines.
At last:
"So, thanks to all at once and to each one, whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone," Miles sighs, sinking to the floor in front of Linya's chair and curling up there.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-09-05 09:46 pm (UTC)He paces. He rants. He weeps and howls, sometimes carried by the emotions of the play, sometimes by his own. He falls over Linya's lap and sobs iambic pentameter into her knees, then jumps up again and onto his bench to declaim the next lines.
At last:
"So, thanks to all at once and to each one, whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone," Miles sighs, sinking to the floor in front of Linya's chair and curling up there.