Captain:
It's no use praying;
I dare not. I've not half my cargo yet.
Thomas:
What do you wait for, then?
Captain: A carpenter.
Thomas:
You are talking strangely.
Captain:
But not idly.
I might as well broach all my blood at once
Here as I stand, as sail to India back
Without a carpenter on board;--O strangely
Wise are our kings in the killing of men!
Thomas:
But does your king then need a carpenter?
Captain:
Yes, for he dreamed a dream; and like a man
Who, having eaten poison, and with all
Force of his life turned out the crazing drug,
Has only a weak and wrestled nature left
That gives in foolishly to some bad desire
A healthy man would laugh at; so our king
Is left desiring by his venomous dream.
But, being a king, the whole land aches with him.
Thomas:
What dream was that?
Captain:
A palace made of souls;--
Ay, there's a folly for a man to dream!
He saw a palace covering all the land,
Big as the day itself, made of a stone
That answered with a better gleam than glass
To the sun's greeting, fashioned like the sound
Of laughter copied into shining shape:
So the king said.
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