With all this babble, mummery, and glare,
For I am growing dangerous—Air! room! air!—
[He rushes in. Music ceases.
Oh but to save the reeling brain from wreck
With its bewilder’d senses!—
[He covers his eyes for a while.
What! Ev’n now
That Babel left behind me, but my eyes
Pursued by the same glamour, that—unless
Alike bewitch’d too—the confederate sense