Should I rest here,
Prattling with gladsome revellers, when time,
Steered by my hand, might bring me to a port
I long had sighed to enter? But, alas!
These are a woman's thoughts.
V:2:43 ALAR.
And yet I share them.
V:2:44 SOL.
Why not to-night? Now, when our hearts are high,
Our fancies glowing, pulses fit for kings,
And the whole frame and spirit of the man
Prepared for daring deeds?
V:2:45 ALAR.
And were it done --
Why then 'twere not to do.
V:2:46 SOL.
The mind grows dull,
Dwelling on method of its deeds too long.
Our schemes should brood as gradual as the storm;
Their acting should be lightning. How far is't?
V:2:47 ALAR.
An hour.
V:2:48 SOL.
Why it wants two to midnight yet.
O could I see thee but re-enter here,
Ere yet the midnight clock strikes on my heart
The languish of new hours -- I'd not ask thee
Why I had missed the mien, that draws to it ever
My constant glance. There'd need no speech between us;
For I should meet -- my husband.
V:2:49 ALAR.
'Tis the burthen
Of this unfilled doom weighs on my spirit.
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