KING. Well, then, this being so, I ask Was Polonia when this happened Dead or not? For if but only In a swoon, what mighty marvel, Then, was done? But this I pass. If she really had departed, Then to one of the two places, Heaven or hell, so named, O Patrick, By yourself, it must have gone. If it was in heaven, 'twas hardly Merciful in God to send it Back into this world, to hazard A new chance of condemnation, When 'twas once in grace and happy. This is surely true. If, likewise, It had been in hell, 'tis adverse To strict justice, since it were not Just that that which by its badness Once had earned such punishment, Should again be given the chances Of regaining grace. It must, I presume, be taken as granted That God's justice and His mercy Cannot possibly be parted. Where, I ask then, was her soul? PATRICK. Hear, Egerius, the answer. I concede that for the soul, Sanctified by holy baptism, Heaven or hell must be its goal, Out of which, by God's commandment, Speaking of His usual power, It can never more be absent. But if of His absolute power There is question, God could drag it Even from hell itself; but this Is not what we have to argue. That the soul doth go to either Of those places, must be granted When 'tis severed from the body Once for all by mortal absence To return to it no more; But when otherwise commanded To it to return, it waiteth In a certain state of passage, And remains as 'twere suspended In the universe, not having Any special place allotted. For the Almighty mind forecasting All things, when from out His essence, As th' exemplar, the fair pattern Of His thought, this glorious fabric He brought forth to light and gladness, Saw this very incident, And well knowing what would happen, That this soul would here return, Kept it for awhile inactive, Seemingly unfixed, yet fixed. This is the authentic answer That theology, that sacred Science, gives to what you have asked me. But another point remaineth: There are other places, mark me, Both of glory and of pain, Than you think; and of these latter One is called the Purgatory, Where the soul of him who haply Dies in grace, is purged from stains, Sinful stains which it contracted In the world: for into heaven None can pass till these are cancelled. And thus, there 'tis purified, Cleansed by fire from all that tarnished, Till to God's divinest presence Pure and clean at length it passes.