Hell is the place of those who have denied; They find there what they planted and what dug, A Lake of Spaces, and a Wood of Nothing, And wander there and drift, and never cease Wailing for substance. WISE MAN Pardon me, blessed Angel, I have denied and taught the like to others. But how could I believe before my sight Had come to me? ANGEL It is too late for pardon. WISE MAN Had I but met your gaze as now I met it-- But how can you that live but where we go In the uncertainty of dizzy dreams Know why we doubt? Parting, sickness and death, The rotting of the grass, tempest and drouth, These are the messengers that came to me. Why are you silent? You carry in your hands God's pardon, and you will not give it me. Why are you silent? Were I not afraid, I'd kiss your hands--no, no, the hem of your dress. ANGEL Only when all the world has testified, May soul confound it, crying out in joy, And laughing on its lonely precipice. What's dearth and death and sickness to the soul That knows no virtue but itself? Nor could it, So trembling with delight and mother-naked, Live unabashed if the arguing world stood by. WISE MAN It is as hard for you to understand Why we have doubted, as it is for us To banish doubt--what folly have I said? There can be nothing that you do not know: Give me a year--a month--a week--a day, I would undo what I have done--an hour-- Give me until the sand has run in the glass. ANGEL Though you may not undo what you have done, I have this power--if you but find one soul, Before the sands have fallen, that still believes, One fish to lie and spawn among the stones Till the great fisher's net is full again, You may, the purgatorial fire being passed, Spring to your peace. [_Pupils sing in the distance._ 'Who stole your wits away And where are they gone?' WISE MAN My pupils come, Before you have begun to climb the sky I shall have found that soul. They say they doubt, But what their mothers dinned into their ears Cannot have been so lightly rooted up; Besides, I can disprove what I once proved-- And yet give me some thought, some argument, More mighty than my own. ANGEL Farewell--farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time. [_Angel goes out. Wise Man makes a step to follow and pauses. Some of his pupils come in at the other side of the stage._ FIRST PUPIL Master, master, you must choose the subject. [_Enter other pupils with Fool, about whom they dance; all the pupils may have little cushions on which presently they seat themselves._ SECOND PUPIL