Each soul we pass must go to heaven or hell--
And this our one chance through eternity
To drop and die, like dead leaves in the brake,
Or like the meteor stone, though whelmed itself,
Kindle the dry moors into fruitful blaze--
And yet we live too fast!
Be earnest, earnest, earnest; mad, if thou wilt:
Do what thou dost as if the stake were heaven,
And that thy last deed ere the judgment-day.
When all's done, nothing's done. There's rest above--
Below let work be death, if work be love! [Exeunt.]


SCENE VIII


A Chamber in the Castle. Counts Walter, Hugo, etc., Abbot, and
Knights.

Count Hugo. I can't forget it, as I am a Christian man. To ask for
a stoup of beer at breakfast, and be told there was no beer allowed
in the house--her Ladyship had given all the malt to the poor.

Abbot. To give away the staff of life, eh?

C. Hugo. The life itself, Sir, the life itself. All that barley,
that would have warmed many an honest fellow's coppers, wasted in
filthy cakes.

Abbot. The parent of seraphic ale degraded into plebeian dough!