_Fest._ No; it must oft fall out That one whose labor perfects any work, Shall rise from it with eye so worn that he Of all men least can measure the extent Of what he has accomplished. He alone Who, nothing tasked, is nothing weary too, May clearly scan the little he effects: But we, the bystanders, untouched by toil, Estimate each aright. _Par._ This worthy Festus Is one of them, at last! 'T is so with all! First, they set down all progress as a dream; And next, when he whose quick discomfiture Was counted on, accomplishes some few And doubtful steps in his career,--behold, They look for every inch of ground to vanish Beneath his tread, so sure they spy success! _Fest._ Few doubtful steps? when death retires before Your presence--when the noblest of mankind, Broken in body or subdued in soul, May through your skill renew their vigor, raise The shattered frame to pristine stateliness? When men in racking pain may purchase dreams Of what delights them most, swooning at once Into a sea of bliss or rapt along As in a flying sphere of turbulent light? When we may look to you as one ordained To free the flesh from fell disease, as frees Our Luther's burning tongue the fettered soul? When ... _Par._ When and where, the devil, did you get This notable news? _Fest._ Even from the common voice; From those whose envy, daring not dispute The wonders it decries, attributes them To magic and such folly. _Par._ Folly? Why not To magic, pray? You find a comfort doubtless In holding, God ne'er troubles him about Us or our doings: once we were judged worth The devil's tempting ... I offend: forgive me, And rest content. Your prophecy on the whole Was fair enough as prophesyings go; At fault a little in detail, but quite Precise enough in the main; and hereupon I pay due homage: you guessed long ago (The prophet!) I should fail--and I have failed. _Fest._ You mean to tell me, then, the hopes which fed Your youth have not been realized as yet? Some obstacle has barred them hitherto? Or that their innate ...