What matters it--
What matters it, my fairest, and my best,
That we go down unhonored and forgotten
Into the dust--so we descend together?
Descend together--and then--and then perchance--
_Lal_. Why dost thou pause, Politian?
_Pol_. And then perchance
_Arise_ together, Lalage, and roam
The starry and quiet dwellings of the blest,
And still--
_Lal_. Why dost thou pause, Politian?
_Pol_. And still _together_--_together_.
_Lal_. Now, Earl of Leicester!
Thou _lovest_ me, and in my heart of hearts
I feel thou lovest me truly.
_Pol_. O Lalage!
(_throwing himself upon his knee_.)
And lovest thou _me_?
_Lal_. Hist! hush! within the gloom
Of yonder trees methought a figure passed--
A spectral figure, solemn, and slow, and noiseless--
Like the grim shadow Conscience, solemn and noiseless.
(_walks across and returns_.)
I was mistaken--'twas but a giant bough
Stirred by the autumn wind. Politian!
_Pol_. My Lalage--my love! why art thou moved?
Why dost thou turn so pale? Not Conscience self,
Far less a shadow which thou likenest to it,
Should shake the firm spirit thus.
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