Talk thou of this and we will gladly hear thee.
How think'st thou we shall feel, when like a nestling,
Burst from its shell, we wake to this new day?
Eth. Why e'en, methinks, like to the very thing
To which, good Thane, thou hast compared us:
For here we are but nestlings, and I trow,
Pent up i'the dark we are. When that shall open
Which human eye hath ne'er beheld, nor mind
To human body link'd, hath e'er conceiv'd;
Grand, awful, lovely.—O what form of words
Will body out my thoughts!—I'll hold my peace.
(covers his head with his hand and is silent for a moment.)
Has mimick'd forth a sad and gloomy tale,
We shall these worthless weeds of flesh cast off,
And be the children of our father's house.
Her. (eagerly.) But what say'st thou of those who doff these weeds
To clothe themselves in flames and endless woe?
Eth. Peace to thee! what have we to do with this?
Let it be veil'd in night!
Her. Nay, nay, good Ethelbert!
I fain would know what foul oppression earns;
And please my fancy with the after doom
Of tyrants, such as him beneath whose fangs
Our wretched country bleeds. They shall be cursed:
O say how deeply!
