A pale, contagious horror seems to creep
Even to our palace. Men gaze mutely round,
As in their neighbour’s face to read a secret
They dare not speak themselves:
Even thus, along his vast domains of silence,
Dark Pluto gazes, when the sullen spirits
Speak only with fixed look and voiceless motion.
'Tis misery! Speak; Olybius orders; speak to me,
Nor let mine own voice, like an evil omen,
Load this hot air unanswered.”