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Nor how far he in's navigation went
Frank. Slaves! A pair of merciless slaves ! speak no more of
them. Kath. I think this talking hurts you.
Frank. Does me no good, I'm sure; I pay for 't everywhere.
Kath. I have done then. Eat if you cannot sleep; you have these two days Not tasted any food :-Jane, is it ready?
Frank. What's ready? what's ready? Kath. I have made ready a roasted chicken for you;
[Enter Maid with the chicken. Sweet, wilt thou eat?
Frank. A pretty stomach on a sudden, yes.There's one i' the house can play upon a lute; Good girl, let's hear him too.
Kath. You shall, dear brother. [Exit Maid. Would I were a musician, you should hear How I would feast your ear!--[Lute plays within.)
stay, mend your pillow, And raise you higher.
Frank. I am up too high, Am I not, sister, now?
Kath. No, no, 't is well. Fall to, fall to.-A knife! here's ne'er a knife. Brother, I?ll look out yours. [Takes up his vest.
Enter Dog, shrugging as it were for joy, and dances.
Frank. Sister, O sister,
Kath. In very deed you shall; the want of food
here's none in your pocket; I will go fetch a knife.
[Exit hastily. Frank. Will you ?'t is well, all's well. FRANK searches first one pocket then the other, finds the
knife, and then lies down. The spirit of SUSAN comes to the bed's side: he starts at it, and then turns to the other side, but the spirit is there-meanwhile enter WINNIFREDE as a Page, and stands sorrowfully at the foot of the bed.—FRANK, terrified, sits up, and the spirit vanishes. Frank. What art thou ? Win. A lost creature. Frank. So am I too.-Win? Ah, my she-page!
Win. For your sake I put on
Frank. 'Would mine and thine
Win. When ?
Frank. But just now:
Win. Believe it,
Frank. Then 't was my fancy; Some windmill in my brains for want of sleep. Win. Would I might never sleep, so you could
rest! But you have pluck'd a thunder on your head, Whose noise cannot cease suddenly; why should
Frank. Sit thee then down; And when thou 'st heard me speak, melt into tears: Yet I, to save those eyes of thine from weeping, Being to write a story of us two, Instead of ink, dipp'd my sad pen in blood. When of thee I took leave, I went abroad Only for pillage, as a freebooter, What gold soe'er I got, to make it thine. To please a father, I have Heaven displeased, Striving to cast two wedding-rings in one, Through my bad workmanship I now have none; I have lost her and thee.
Win. I know she's dead; But you have me still.
Frand. Nay, her this hand Murdered ; and so I lose thee too.
Win. Oh me!
Frank. Be quiet; for thou art my evidence, Jury, and judge: sit quiet, and I 'll tell all. While they are conversing in a low tone, Old CARTER
and ŘATHERINE meet at the door of the room. Kath. I have run madding up and down to find
Being laden with the heaviest news that ever
Car. Why? is the boy dead?
Kath. Dead, sir! Oh, father, we are cozen'd; you are told The murderer sings in prison, and he laughs here. This villain kill'd my sister; see else, see,
[Takes up his vest ; and shows the knife to her
father, who secures it. A bloody knife in 's pocket! Car. Bless me, patience!
[Dog paws softly at Frank, and exit. Frank. (Seeing them.] The knife! the knife! the
knife ! Kath. What knife ?
Frank. To cut my chicken up, my chicken ;-
Car. That I will.
doing ill ! Frank. My stomach and my sight are taken from
me; All is not well within me.
Car. I believe thee, boy: I that have seen so many moons clap their horns on other men's foreheads to strike them sick; yet mine to’scape, and be well! I that am as sound as an honest man's conscience when he's dying, I should cry out as thou dost, “ All is not well within me,” felt I but the bag of thy imposthumes. Ah, poor villain ! ah, my wounded rascal ! all my grief is, I have now small hope of thee. Frank. Do the surgeons say my wounds are dan
gerous, then! Car. Yes, yes, and there's no way with thee but one.
1 Yes, yes, and there's no way with thee but one.) A proverbial expression for an inevitable event--death. Thus Mrs. Quickly of poor Sir John-_“After I saw him fumble with the sheets, and smile upon his finger-ends, I know there was but one way,” &c. --GIFFORD.
Frank. Would he were here to open them.
Car. I'll go to fetch him; I'll make a holyday to see thee as I wish.
[Exit. Frank. A wondrous kind old man.
Win. Your sin 's the blacker, So to abuse his goodness. Aside to FRANK.)—Mas
—[ ter, how do you?
(Aloud. Frank. Pretty well now, boy; I have such odd
qualms Come cross my stomach :-I'll fall-to; boy, cut
Re-enter CARTER, followed by Servants, with the body
of Susan in a coffin. What's that?
Car. That? what? oh, now I see her; 't is a young wench, my daughter, sirrah, sick to the death; and hearing thee to be an excellent rascal for letting blood, she looks out at a casement, and cries, “ Help! help! stay that man! him I must have Frank. For pity's sake remove her ; see, she
stares With one broad open eye still in my face!
Car. Thou puttest both hers out like a villain as thou art; yet, see! she is willing to lend thee one again, to find out the murderer, and that's thyself. Frank. Old man, thou liest. Car. So shalt thou—in the jail. Run for officers.
Kath. Oh, thou merciless slave! She was (though yet above ground) in her grave To me, but thou hast torn her up again, Mine eyes, too much drown'd, now must feel more
- rain. Car. Fetch officers. [Exit Kath. with Servants. Frank. For whom ?
Car. For thee, sirrah! sirrah! Some knives have foolish posies upon them, but thine has a villanous one; look !--[showing the bloody knife.]-oh, it is