_Fest._ Oh, no: the sunrise Well warranted our faith in this full noon! Can I forget the anxious voice which said, "Festus, have thoughts like these e'er shaped themselves In other brains than mine? have their possessors Existed in like circumstance? were they weak As I, or ever constant from the first, Despising youth's allurements and rejecting As spider-films the shackles I endure? Is there hope for me?"--and I answered gravely As an acknowledged elder, calmer, wiser, More gifted mortal. O you must remember, For all your glorious ... _Par._ Glorious? ay, this hair, These hands--nay, touch them, they are mine! Recall With all the said recallings, times when thus To lay them by your own ne'er turned you pale As now. Most glorious, are they not? _Fest._ Why--why-- Something must be subtracted from success So wide, no doubt. He would be scrupulous, truly, Who should object such drawbacks. Still, still, Aureole, You are changed, very changed! 'T were losing nothing To look well to it: you must not be stolen From the enjoyment of your well-won meed. _Par._ My friend! you seek my pleasure, past a doubt: You will best gain your point, by talking, not Of me, but of yourself. _Fest._ Have I not said All touching Michal and my children? Sure You know, by this, full well how Aennchen looks Gravely, while one disparts her thick brown hair; And Aureole's glee when some stray gannet builds Amid the birch-trees by the lake. Small hope Have I that he will honor (the wild imp) His namesake. Sigh not! 't is too much to ask That all we love should reach the same proud fate. But you are very kind to humor me By showing interest in my quiet life; You, who of old could never tame yourself To tranquil pleasures, must at heart despise.