I’m drunk, yes—drenched with the thought
Of a certain thing. [_Aside._] I’ll sleep sounder to-night
Than all the nights I’ve followed him about
Worrying each slight clue, each monosyllable
To give the word to Imra: the prince is near,
And Moses’ eyes shall blink before next hour
To a hundred javelins. I’ll tease him till they come.
[_Aloud._] On Koelue’s tears I swam to you, in a mist
Of her sighs I hung round you;
As in some hallucination I’ve been walking
A white waste world, we two only in it.