Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/313

Say, should we not retire?

Freb.Ha! is it so?
My friend, your face is pale, have you been ill?

De Mon. No, Freberg, no; I think I have been well.

Freb. (Shaking his head.) I fear thou hast not, Monfort—Let it pass.
We'll re-establish thee: we'll banish pain.
I will collect some rare, some cheerful friends,
And we shall spend together glorious hours,
That gods might envy. Little time so spent
Doth far outvalue all our life beside.
This is indeed our life, our waking life,
The rest dull breathing sleep.

De Mon. Thus, it is true, from the sad years of life
We sometimes do short hours, yea minutes strike,
Keen, blissful, bright, never to be forgotten;
Which thro' the dreary gloom of time o'erpast
Shine like fair sunny spots on a wild waste.
But few they are, as few the heaven-fir'd souls
Whose magick power creates them. Bless'd art thou,
If in the ample circle of thy friends
Thou canst but boast a few.

Freb. Judge for thyself: in truth I do not boast.
There is amongst my friends, my later friends,
A most accomplish'd stranger. New to Amberg,
But just arriv'd; and will ere long depart.
I met him in Franconia two years since.
He is so full of pleasant anecdote,