Aris. O, I am wounded in the character
I sought to build so giant-like that as
A figure on the skies all men would see
And longing upward scorn their baser state!
Now am I grown deform�d with a scar
That all eternity can not make fair.
... To go ... nor say farewell. To go ... to go,
And see no more her face ... that face which is
Imagination sighing in a word.
That face where Beauty with her mysteries