_Dungeon of the Palace. PALICIO discovered. A door at back of prison
is_ L. _of centre_.
_PALICIO._
I cannot think of death. Imagination
Is barren on that point, and hath no picture;—
To be so near should better prick the fancy.— 2220
I see a grave—but stand beside the grave ...
Nothing.—And yet I am so near.—I judge
From this how dizzily deep rides the division
’Twixt this world and the next; tho’ in Time’s face
’Tis thin, ay, more invisibly sharp than is
The axe’s edge, which makes it.—Is our life’s stuff
So different? All the joys and hopes of earth
Wrought of too coarse a fibre to invest
An inkling of that other unseen world,
Which hath this only entrance? Wherefore my mind
Wanders in wasteful contemplation back 2231
O’er what I have done, pitifully seeking
To wear renewed the robe of those proud deeds,
To dream again her disappointed dreams;
And over all is Margaret, ever Margaret;
Floating before these vain soul-treacherous eyes,—
My tempter and tormentor.
_Enter Gaoler._
_GAOLER._
A priest sent from the archbishop. Shall he enter?
_Pal._ Yea: bid him enter. But I pray thee now,
Thou execrable minion of that devil 2240
Who sucks our people’s blood, come not thyself:
Each time I see thee I must wish to kill thee.
Thou art my soul’s last peril. Keep away.
_Gaoler._ Whate’er I be, I can be civil, sir. [_Exit._
_Pal._ Ay, I was wrong. Now must I ask his pardon.
I am not yet fit to die. Yet is’t not written
“_If hand or foot offend thee, cut it off;
If thine eye, pluck it out_”? I have done all this;
Yet lurks there something in the accusing balance
Which my soul sickens at. What if I have lost
My world and soul? This good priest comes in time.
_Enter Manuel disguised as priest._
Father, if thou be come to shrive my soul, 2252
I need thee sorely.
_MANUEL._