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Faint hollow music ever breathing up
In unsurpass'd soul-trancing symphony
To utter consummation of all desire,
That just as eager longing grows piercing pain,
Dies off, until it rack your soul once more
With the bitter joy of its hateful melody,
And leave you again a soul gall-surfeited
With sick dissatisfaction of unsinned sin!
2nd Masque:
Nay, there's no love in Hell but only Hate!!
3rd Masque:
But the night wears, and we shall meet anon,
We must not linger, tho' our Prince and Lord
For just one night unkennelling the damn'd,
Hath loos'd live Devils forth to sup with you,
Yet are we on parole, and must return!
(They laugh and disappear.)
