Chatterton. And should I reach ambition's goal at last-- My brain would not hold out. Why, even now I feel rebellion 'gainst the reason strong And frenzy coming on. No, not that fate-- Confined within a mad-house! there to sit, Perchance for years--long years--with vacant stare And slabber dripping from the fallen lip; Or with a maniac's eye to see such things As hell doth not contain; to hear loud shrieks And clanking chains--O God, not that, not that! [After a pause.] I'll do it, and to-night. [Goes to door and locks it. The click of the lock is heard.] There Hope, stay out: Come not to me when life is past recall. [Comes back to table.] They shall not have the poems which they spurned, But Rowley shall with Chatterton expire. [Draws out box from under table, and takes out manuscripts.] O how these papers plead with me for life! All my young thoughts and all my early dreams-- I cannot do it! O I cannot do it! [Weeping, he lets his head fall upon his arm.] [After a pause.] Here fools may thrive; and I--why I lack bread. [Firmly.] It must be thus. [Tears up papers, and throws pieces fluttering into the air.] O turn to white-winged gulls, and fly away: This is no place for you. And now the end. [Takes a vial from his pocket.] I feel much calmer. [Looking at vial.] It is better thus: A bullet tearing through my fevered brain Seems so abhorrent to me. Yet 'tis sad To send this ghostly messenger to bid My troubled heart be still--and then these hands, These faithful, willing hands that even now Obey me to the death. [Coarse laughter of a man and woman far off in the street is heard.] What noise is that? [The ribalds come nearer and nearer, singing the following song, with occasional bursts of mirth. Chatterton goes to window, throws open casement. The moonlight streams in.] Voices. [From street.] Say'st thou it is a lawless love That lusts within mine eye? Know thou there is no lawless love Beneath the love-lit sky. Female Voice. I'm out of tune; give me another drink. [Laughter.] Both Voices. [Singing.] Man maketh law, but Nature, love; And in the court above Love's cast for only fickleness-- But then it is not love. [Laughter and singing die away in the distance. Chatterton comes from window, laughs wildly, and then suddenly checks his mirth.]