How deep ’tis hers to say, And keen I feel I have been sore at fault. What strikes me strikes me only as is meet. The plain word of my age-ennobled servant Taught me a thing. One should not always ask “What’s this or that?” but sometimes “What’s its import?” I know for very truth the time is coming When all will think as I do. Say, what virtue Inheres in veils, in crowns or rusty swords That is eternal? But the weary world O’er things like these is sunken into sleep; Things that she wrested in her latest throe And holds to fast. Who’d plunder her thereof Wakes her. Then let that man first search himself If he be strong enough to hold her bound When, jolted half awake, she lays about her, And rich enough to offer her aught higher, If she be loath to let her trinket go. Herakles was the man, but I am not. Too proud to be his heir in lowly mind And far too weak to be his peer in deed, I’ve undermined the ground that held me firm And now its gnashing vengeance draws me down. GYGES. Nay, nay! KAN. ’Tis thus nor can be otherwise. The world has need of sleep as you and I Need ours; she grows like us and waxes strong When she would seem the prey of death and fools Are moved to mirth. Yes, when a man lies prone, The arms erewhile so busy hanging slack, The eyes imprisoned fast and closed the mouth, Whose lips are knitted in convulsive twitch Retaining still perchance a withered roseleaf As though ’twere greatest treasure--that would give A sight to raise the laugh of him who wakes And looks upon it. But were such a man, Some being born upon a stranger star And quite unwitting of our human wants, To come and cry at you--“Here’s fruit and wine, Arise, eat, drink!” What were you like to do? Why this, unless you choked him, ere you knew it, With a half-conscious grip and crushing hug, You’d answer:--“This is more than meat and drink!” And slumber calmly on until the morning That summons not the one and not the other, Nay, but all mortals into freshened life. Just such a meddling mar-peace was myself. Now I am caught between Briareus’ hands And he will grind the insect that would sting. Then, Gyges, howsoe’er the wave of life May lift you (and be sure ’twill rear your fate Still higher than you think) be bold of faith And do not tremble even before a crown; This only--never break the sleep o’ the world. And now---- GYGES. The sun goes down. The thing must be. KAN. Thoas! [_He takes off his crown._ THOAS. What means this, Sire? KAN.