I envy them because they are at rest!
Would I were with them!
Hyp. Thou wilt be soon.
Vic. It cannot be too soon. My happiest day
Will be that of my death. O, I am weary
Of the bewildering masquerade of Life,
Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers;
Where whispers overheard betray false hearts;
And through the mazes of the crowd we chase
Some form of loveliness, that smiles, and beckons,