_First Sailor._ I have that thought out. We must have Aibric with us. He knows the constellations as well as Forgael. He is a good hand with the sword. Join with us; be our captain, Aibric. We are agreed to put an end to Forgael, before he wakes. There is no man but will be glad of it when it is done. Join with us, and you will have the captain’s share and profit. _Aibric._ Silence! for you have taken Forgael’s pay. _First Sailor._ Little pay we have had this twelvemonth. We would never have turned against him if he had brought us, as he promised, into seas that would be thick with ships. That was the bargain. What is the use of knocking about and fighting as we do unless we get the chance to drink more wine and kiss more women than lasting peaceable men through their long lifetime? You will be as good a leader as ever he was himself, if you will but join us. _Aibric._ And do you think that I will join myself To men like you, and murder him who has been My master from my earliest childhood up? No! nor to a world of men like you When Forgael’s in the other scale. Come! come! I’ll answer to more purpose when you have drawn That sword out of its scabbard. _First Sailor._ You have awaked him. We had best go, for we have missed this chance. _Forgael._ Have the birds passed us? I could hear your voice. But there were others. _Aibric._ I have seen nothing pass. _Forgael._ You are certain of it? I never wake from sleep But that I am afraid they may have passed; For they’re my only pilots. I have not seen them For many days, and yet there must be many Dying at every moment in the world. _Aibric._ They have all but driven you crazy, and already The sailors have been plotting for your death, And all the birds have cried into your ears Has lured you on to death. _Forgael._ No; but they promised— _Aibric._ I know their promises. You have told me all. They are to bring you to unheard-of passion, To some strange love the world knows nothing of, Some ever-living woman as you think, One that can cast no shadow, being unearthly. But that’s all folly. Turn the ship about, Sail home again, be some fair woman’s friend; Be satisfied to live like other men, And drive impossible dreams away. The world Has beautiful women to please every man. _Forgael._ But he that gets their love after the fashion Loves in brief longing and deceiving hope And bodily tenderness, and finds that even The bed of love, that in the imagination Had seemed to be the giver of all peace, Is no more than a wine cup in the tasting, And as soon finished. _Aibric._ All that ever loved Have loved that way—there is no other way. _Forgael._ Yet never have two lovers kissed but they Believed there was some other near at hand, And almost wept because they could not find it.