Politian. Not so, Baldazzar,
I live—I live.
Baldazzar. Politian, it doth grieve me
To see thee thus.
Politian. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.
Command me, sir, what wouldst thou have me do?
At thy behest I will shake off that nature
Which from my forefathers I did inherit,
Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe,
And be no more Politian, but some other.
Command me, sir.
Baldazzar. To the field then—to the field,
To the senate or the field.
Politian. Alas! Alas!
There is an imp would follow me even there!
There is an imp hath followed me even there!
There is——what voice was that?
Baldazzar. I heard it not.
I heard not any voice except thine own,
And the echo of thine own.
Politian. Then I but dreamed.
Baldazzar. Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp—the court
Befit thee—Fame awaits thee—Glory calls—
And her the trumpet-tongued thou wilt not hear
In hearkening to imaginary sounds
And phantom voices.
Politian. It is a phantom voice,
Didst thou not hear it then?
Baldazzar. I heard it not.