Her. Would I had the power to bring thy wife up to the light from the halls of death, and confer this kindness on thee!
Adm. Right well I know thou wouldst. But what of that? The dead can never come to life again.
Her. Do not exceed the mark, but bear thy grief with moderation.
Adm. 'Tis easier to advise than to suffer and endure.
Her. Yet what thy gain, if thou for aye wilt mourn?
Adm. I too know that myself, but some strange yearning leads me on.
Her. Love for the dead compels a tear.
Adm. Her death was mine, more than any words of mine can tell.
Her. Thou hast lost a noble wife; who shall gainsay it?
Adm. Life henceforth hath lost all charm for me.
Her. Time will soothe the smart; as yet thy grief is young.
Adm. "Time!" use that word, if death and time are one.
Her. A new wife and a longing for a fresh marriage will stay thy sorrow.
Adm. Peace! What words are thine? I ne'er of thee had thought it.
Her. What! wilt never wed, but preserve thy widowed slate?
Adm. There is no woman living that shall share my couch.
Her. Dost think that this will help the dead at all?
Adm. My reverence she deserves, where'er she is.
Her. I praise thee, yes but still thou bringest on thyself the charge of folly.
Adm. So that thou never call'st me bridegroom, praise me if thou wilt.
