14
Tower of Ivory
Smoke and a shadow, woman and no flesh;
What fool desires a woman that no arms
May crush the wine of, and no lips find sweet?
All
Helen of Troy, Call Helen up, Call Helen!
Matthiolus
Show us that mind can fashion out of air
The beauty that the flesh surrendered up.
Wagner
Nay master, let these necromancies be,
These magics out of air, these vaporous
Appearances of flesh long turned to mould.
The clock whirs for the hour. Oh make your peace
With heaven, if there still be—
Faustus
Silence thou!
The mind knows no conclusion, finds no end,
But its own seeking; and my seeking was
The true entelechy, the living seed,
