Now send it forth. Why keep me waiting here,
Or must I make my meaning still more clear?
Ye faithless ones, why turn ye not the stone?
Tell me, false ministers, what keeps ye back?
How? Have ye not sufficient portents shown,
That ye will aid me in the thing I lack?
Say, have ye mischievous designs alone?
Or wish ye I should put upon the track,
This very moment, my enchanting arts,
To soften down your fierce and stony hearts?