_ There's a
question!
Byron
_Stran. _ Your thoughts
Are not far from me. Do not send me back:
I'm not so easily recalled to do
Good service.
_Arn. _ What wilt thou do for me?
_Stran. _ Change
Shapes with you, if you will, since yours so irks you;
Or form you to your wish in any shape.
_Arn. _ Oh! then you are indeed the Demon, for
Nought else would wittingly wear mine.
_Stran. _ I'll show thee
The brightest which the world e'er bore, and give thee
Thy choice.
_Arn. _ On what condition?
_Stran.
_ There's a question! 140
An hour ago you would have given your soul
To look like other men, and now you pause
To wear the form of heroes.
_Arn. _ No; I will not.
I must not compromise my soul.
_Stran. _ What soul,
Worth naming so, would dwell in such a carcase?
_Arn. _ 'Tis an aspiring one, whate'er the tenement
In which it is mislodged. But name your compact:
Must it be signed in blood?
_Stran. _ Not in your own.
_Arn. _ Whose blood then?
_Stran. _ We will talk of that hereafter.
