University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The Street near Fazio's Door.
Reenter Fazio with a sack: he rests it.
My steps were ever to this door, as though
They trod on beds of perfume and of down.
The winged birds were not by half so light,
When through the lazy twilight air they wheel
Home to their brooding mates. But now, methinks,
The heavy earth doth cling around my feet.
I move as every separate limb were gyved
With its particular weight of manacle.
The moonlight that was wont to seem so soft,
So balmy to the slow respired breath,
Icily, shiveringly cold falls on me.
The marble pillars, that soared stately up,
As though to prop the azure vault of heaven,
Hang o'er me with a dull and dizzy weight.
The stones whereon I tread do grimly speak,
Forbidding echoes, aye with human voices.
Unbodied arms pluck at me as I pass,
And socketless pale eyes look glaring on me.
But I have past them: and methinks this weight
Might strain more sturdy sinews than mine own.
Howbeit, thank God, 'tis safe! Thank God!—for what?
That a poor honest man's grown a rich villain.