of all sensation and to go alone to the dreary grave; I dare not.  I must die, yet my fear chills me; I pause and shudder and then for months I endure my excess of wretchedness.  But now the time is come when I may quit life, I have a friend who will not refuse to accompany me in this dark journey; such is my request:[69] earnestly do I entreat and implore you to die with me.  Then we shall find Elinor and what I have lost.  Look, I am prepared; there is the death draught, let us drink it together and willingly & joyfully quit this hated round of daily life[.]

“You turn from me; yet before you deny me reflect, Woodville, how sweet it were to cast off the load of tears and misery under which we now labour:  and surely we shall find light after we have passed the dark valley.  That drink will plunge us in a sweet slumber, and when we awaken what joy will be ours to find all our sorrows and fears past. A little patience, and all will be over; aye, a very little patience; for, look, there is the key of our prison; we hold it in our own hands, and are we more debased than slaves to cast it away and give ourselves up to voluntary bondage?  Even now if we had courage we might be free.  Behold, my cheek is flushed with pleasure at the imagination of death; all that we love are dead.  Come, give me your hand, one look of joyous sympathy and we will go together and seek them; a lulling journey; where our arrival will bring bliss and our waking be that of angels.  Do you delay?  Are you a coward, Woodville?  Oh fie!  Cast off this blank look of human melancholy.  Oh! that I had words to express the luxury of death that I might win you.  I tell you we are no longer miserable mortals; we are about to become Gods; spirits free and happy as gods.  What fool on a bleak shore, seeing a flowery isle on the other side with his lost love beckoning to him from it would pause because the wave is dark and turbid?

    “What if some little payne the passage have
    That makes frayle flesh to fear the bitter wave? 
    Is not short payne well borne that brings long ease,
    And lays the soul to sleep in quiet grave?[F]

“Do you mark my words; I have learned the language of despair:  I have it all by heart, for I am Despair; and a strange being am I, joyous, triumphant Despair.  But those words are false, for the wave may be dark but it is not bitter.  We lie down, and close our eyes with a gentle good night, and when we wake, we are free.  Come then, no more delay, thou tardy one!  Behold the pleasant potion!  Look, I am a spirit of good, and not a human maid that invites thee, and with winning accents, (oh, that they would win thee!) says, Come and drink."[70]

As I spoke I fixed my eyes upon his countenance, and his exquisite beauty, the heavenly compassion that beamed from his eyes, his gentle yet earnest look of deprecation and wonder even before he spoke wrought a change in my high strained feelings taking from me all the sterness of despair and filling me only with the softest grief.  I saw his eyes humid also as he took both my hands in his; and sitting down near me, he said:[71]