Northlake monologue (Act 5) — The Merchant Prince of Cornville: A Comedy

Not yet! still in her dressing-room. To-night Fortune shall win a prize more delicate Than are the velvet leaves of fabled roses. For years my mind’s best nutriment has come By night,--and what of night? I’ll think on it, While Violet arrays herself for this Night’s masquerade. It would be right in me To fancy night as a black sea in space, That hath circumference and depth, and through Whose clouded elements grim-visaged hawks Do sleekly plunge like fishes in the sea, Seeking their prey; and all upon the earth Dwell on the floor of this aërial sea, And thence look longingly at moon and stars. Oh, hasten, sun, drive back this monstrous tide Of night! See how these trembling night-lights throb With the sun’s offices. Ten million such Could not burn up a solitary rood, Nor make partition for a vaulted league Of this black night. But I’ll not rail against The gentle night; for often doth it bear A princely offering to Mammon’s shrine. But come, my niece, my gentle Violet, Make haste; the hours halt not for lagging maids, Nor fortune either.