From the wide spreading bounds of beauteous nature
I am alone shut out; I am forgotten.
Peace, peace! he who regards the poorest worm
Still cares for me, albeit he shends me sorely,
This hath its end. Perhaps, small as these walls,
A bound unseen divides my dreary state
From a more beauteous world; that world of souls,
Fear'd and desir'd by all; a veil unseen
I'll lay me down; perchance kind sleep will come,
And open to my view an inward world
Of gairish fantasies, from which nor walls,
Nor bars, nor tyrant's power can shut me out.
(he wraps himself in a cloak and lies down.
Enter a Ruffian, stealing up softly to him as supposing him asleep. Edward, hearing him, uncovers his face, and then starts up immediately.)
Ed. What art thou?
Or man or sprite? Thou lookest wond'rous stern,
What dost thou want? Com'st thou to murder me?
Ruff. Yes, I am come to do mine office on thee:
Thy life is wretched and my stroke is sure.
Ed. Thou sayest true; yet, wretched as it is,
It is my life, and I will grapple for it.
