Or make thee mutter incoherent tales
Of hours long since gone by or yet to come.
No madcap moon shall mar thy nightly rest,
Or in the mischief of half-witted glee
Awake thy sleeping hours before their time.
Flor. (aside). He doesn’t answer—the insensate dolt!—
And yet such words are warm enough to rouse
A tombstone into life!
Vav.I’ve brought thee flowers
To deck thy stem. They live their little life,