POLITIAN
It is a phantom voice!
Didst thou not hear it then?
BALDAZZAR
I heard it not.
POLITIAN
Thou heardst it not!- Baldazaar, speak no more
To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
Oh I am sick, sick, even unto death,
Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities
Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile!
We have been boys together- schoolfellows-
And now are friends- yet shall not be so long-
For in the eternal city thou shalt do me
A kind and gentle office, and a Power
A Power august, benignant and supreme-
Shall then absolve thee of all further duties
Unto thy friend.
BALDAZZAR
Thou speakest a fearful riddle
I will not understand.
POLITIAN
Yet now as Fate
Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
I cannot die, having within my heart
So keen a relish for the beautiful
As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air
Is balmier now than it was wont to be,-
Rich melodies are floating in the winds-
A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth-
And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
Sitteth in Heaven.- Hist! hist! thou canst not say
Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?
BALDAZZAR
Indeed I hear not.
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