HENRY IV. (_Remains apart, peering at one and now at the other under the accusation and the mockery of what all believe to be a cruel joke of his, which is now revealed. He has shown by the flashing of his eyes that he is meditating a revenge, which his violent contempt prevents him from defining clearly, as yet. Stung to the quick and with a clear idea of accepting the fiction they have insidiously worked up as true, he bursts forth at this point_): Go on, I say! Go on! DI NOLLI (_astonished at the cry_). Go on! What do you mean? HENRY IV. It isn't _your_ sister only that is dead! DI NOLLI. My sister? Yours, I say, whom you compelled up to the last moment, to present herself here as your mother Agnes! HENRY IV. And was she not _your_ mother? DI NOLLI. My mother? Certainly my mother! HENRY IV. But your mother is dead for me, _old and far away_! You have just got down now from there (_pointing to the frame from which he jumped down_). And how do you know whether I have not wept her long in secret, dressed even as I am? DONNA MATILDA (_dismayed, looking at the others_). What does he say? (_Much impressed, observing him_). Quietly! quietly, for Heaven's sake! HENRY IV. What do I say? I ask all of you if Agnes was not the mother of Henry IV.? (_Turns to Frida as if she were really the Marchioness of Tuscany_): You, Marchioness, it seems to me, ought to know. FRIDA (_still frightened, draws closer to Di Nolli_). No, no, I don't know. Not I! DOCTOR. It's the madness returning.... Quiet now, everybody! BELCREDI (_indignant_). Madness indeed, doctor! He's acting again!... HENRY IV. (_suddenly_). I? You have emptied those two frames over there, and he stands before my eyes as Henry IV.... BELCREDI. We've had enough of this joke now. HENRY IV. Who said joke? DOCTOR (_loudly to Belcredi_). Don't excite him, for the love of God! BELCREDI (_without lending an ear to him, but speaking louder_). But they have said so (_pointing again to the four young men_), they, they! HENRY IV. (_turning round and looking at them_). You? Did you say it was all a joke? LANDOLPH (_timid and embarrassed_). No ... really we said that you were cured. BELCREDI. Look here! Enough of this! (_To Donna Matilda_): Doesn't it seem to you that the sight of him (_pointing to Di Nolli_), Marchioness and that of your daughter dressed so, is becoming an intolerable puerility? DONNA MATILDA. Oh, be quiet! What does the dress matter, if he is cured?