This is the
consequence
of giving matter
The power of thought.
The power of thought.
Byron
_ And mine?
_Bourb. _ To follow glory with the Bourbon.
Good night!
_Arn. _ (_to_ CAESAR). Prepare our armour for the assault,
And wait within my tent.
[_Exeunt_ BOURBON, ARNOLD, PHILIBERT, _etc. _
_Caes. _ (_solus_). Within thy tent! 310
Think'st thou that I pass from thee with my presence?
Or that this crooked coffer, which contained
Thy principle of life, is aught to me
Except a mask? And these are men, forsooth!
Heroes and chiefs, the flower of Adam's bastards!
This is the consequence of giving matter
The power of thought. It is a stubborn substance,
And thinks chaotically, as it acts,
Ever relapsing into its first elements.
Well! I must play with these poor puppets: 'tis 320
The Spirit's pastime in his idler hours.
When I grow weary of it, I have business
Amongst the stars, which these poor creatures deem
Were made for them to look at. 'Twere a jest now
To bring one down amongst them, and set fire
Unto their anthill: how the pismires then
Would scamper o'er the scalding soil, and, ceasing
From tearing down each other's nests, pipe forth
One universal orison! ha! ha! [_Exit_ CAESAR.
PART II.
SCENE I. --_Before the walls of Rome. --The Assault: the
Army in motion, with ladders to scale the walls_;[238]
BOURBON _with a white scarf over his armour, foremost_.
_Chorus of Spirits in the air_.
I.
'Tis the morn, but dim and dark.
_Bourb. _ To follow glory with the Bourbon.
Good night!
_Arn. _ (_to_ CAESAR). Prepare our armour for the assault,
And wait within my tent.
[_Exeunt_ BOURBON, ARNOLD, PHILIBERT, _etc. _
_Caes. _ (_solus_). Within thy tent! 310
Think'st thou that I pass from thee with my presence?
Or that this crooked coffer, which contained
Thy principle of life, is aught to me
Except a mask? And these are men, forsooth!
Heroes and chiefs, the flower of Adam's bastards!
This is the consequence of giving matter
The power of thought. It is a stubborn substance,
And thinks chaotically, as it acts,
Ever relapsing into its first elements.
Well! I must play with these poor puppets: 'tis 320
The Spirit's pastime in his idler hours.
When I grow weary of it, I have business
Amongst the stars, which these poor creatures deem
Were made for them to look at. 'Twere a jest now
To bring one down amongst them, and set fire
Unto their anthill: how the pismires then
Would scamper o'er the scalding soil, and, ceasing
From tearing down each other's nests, pipe forth
One universal orison! ha! ha! [_Exit_ CAESAR.
PART II.
SCENE I. --_Before the walls of Rome. --The Assault: the
Army in motion, with ladders to scale the walls_;[238]
BOURBON _with a white scarf over his armour, foremost_.
_Chorus of Spirits in the air_.
I.
'Tis the morn, but dim and dark.
