Chastelard monologue (Act 5) — Chastelard, a Tragedy

So here my time shuts up; and the last light Has made the last shade in the world for me. The sunbeam that was narrow like a leaf Has turned a hand, and the hand stretched to an arm, And the arm has reached the dust on the floor, and made A maze of motes with paddling fingers. Well, I knew now that a man so sure to die Could care so little; a bride-night's lustiness Leaps in my veins as light fire under a wind: As if I felt a kindling beyond death Of some new joys far outside of me yet; Sweet sound, sweet smell and touch of things far out Sure to come soon. I wonder will death be Even all it seems now? or the talk of hell And wretched changes of the worn-out soul Nailed to decaying flesh, shall that be true? Or is this like the forethought of deep sleep Felt by a tired man? Sleep were good enough-- Shall sleep be all? But I shall not forget For any sleep this love bound upon me-- For any sleep or quiet ways of death. Ah, in my weary dusty space of sight Her face will float with heavy scents of hair And fire of subtle amorous eyes, and lips More hot than wine, full of sweet wicked words Babbled against mine own lips, and long hands Spread out, and pale bright throat and pale bright breasts, Fit to make all men mad. I do believe This fire shall never quite burn out to the ash And leave no heat and flame upon my dust For witness where a man's heart was burnt up. For all Christ's work this Venus is not quelled, But reddens at the mouth with blood of men, Sucking between small teeth the sap o' the veins, Dabbling with death her little tender lips-- A bitter beauty, poisonous-pearled mouth. I am not fit to live but for love's sake, So I were best die shortly. Ah, fair love, Fair fearful Venus made of deadly foam, I shall escape you somehow with my death-- Your splendid supple body and mouth on fire And Paphian breath that bites the lips with heat. I had best die.