He drags me to the earth! I needs must lay
My head i'the dust.—Dull hopeless privacy!
My soul from it recoils: unto my nature
It is the death of death, horrid and hateful
(Starting up eagerly.) No, in the tossed bark,
Commander of a rude tumultuous crew,
On the wild ocean would I rather live;
Or in the mined caverns of the earth
Untamed bands of lawless men controul,
By crime and dire necessity enleagued;
Yea, in the dread turmoil of midnight storms,
If such there be, lead on the sable hosts
Of restless sprites, than say to mortal man
"Thou art my master."
Enter Boy.
Boy. O pardon me, my Lord! I am in fear:
Strange sounds do howl and hurtle round my bed;
I cannot rest.
Ethw. Begone, thou wakeful pest! I say, begone!
(Exit Boy.
(Ethw. walks several times across the stage and then pauses.)
Yet in my mind one ever-present thought
Rises omnipotent o'er all the rest,
And says, "thou shalt be great."
What may this mean? before me is no way.
What deep endued seer will draw this veil
Of dark futurity? Of such I've heard,
But when the troubled seek for them they are not
