To see thee thus!

_Pol_. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.
Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
At thy behest I will shake off that nature
Which from my forefathers I did inherit,
Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe,
And be no more Politian, but some other.
Command me, sir!

_Bal_. To the field then--to the field--
To the senate or the field.

_Pol_. Alas! alas!
There is an imp would follow me even there!
There is an imp _hath_ followed me even there!
There is--what voice was that?

_Bal_. I heard it not.
I heard not any voice except thine own,
And the echo of thine own.

_Pol_. Then I but dreamed.

_Bal_. Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp--the court
Befit thee--Fame awaits thee--Glory calls--
And her the trumpet-tongued thou wilt not hear
In hearkening to imaginary sounds
And phantom voices.

_Pol_. It _is_ a phantom voice!
Didst thou not hear it _then_?

_Bal_ I heard it not.

_Pol_. Thou heardst it not!--Baldazzar, speak no more
To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
Oh! I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death,
Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities
Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile
We have been boys together--school-fellows--
And now are friends--yet shall not be so long--
For in the Eternal City thou shalt do me
A kind and gentle office, and a Power--
A Power august, benignant, and supreme--
Shall then absolve thee of all further duties
Unto thy friend.

_Bal_. Thou speakest a fearful riddle
I _will_ not understand.

_Pol_. Yet now as Fate
Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
I _cannot_