Boulder. I couldn't help
The hissing. Like something in a battle, hiss
It went and everybody hissed.
Sir T. No need
To trouble; I conceive the thing.
Boulder. We hissed
Because we couldn't help it.
Sir T. Say the word
Again, and I'll hiss too! Good night, my man.
Boulder. Good night, Sir Tristram.
[Goes out.]
Sir T. Hildreth, Abbot; come.—
About this lady not a word remember.—
I'll ask you something; did you ever see
A woman's soul?
Hildreth. I never did, Sir Tristram.
Sir T. Abbot?
Salerne. Nor I.
Sir T. And never may you need to!
Once on a time I saw a woman's soul.
I looked and looked, expecting colours, flowers,
A perfume and an opal. I found instead
A sooty cobweb diapered with limbs
And empty hulls of captives long undone.
I shook it, but the spider made no sign:
It, too, was dead. I brushed the film away,
And where it hung a mortal crevice yawned,
Obscene and dark and barren as the grave.—
How late it is! My guests will all be gone.
Come, quickly.—Prophecies fulfil themselves.