Pis. How is it, man?—what, speechless?
Alcip. No.
Pis. I left thee on the Bed, how camest thou here?
Alcip. I know not.
Pis. Have you slept?
Alcip. Yes, ever since you left me;
And ‘twas a kindness in thee now to wake me;
For Sleep had almost flatter’d me to Peace,
Which is a vile injustice.
Hah, Pisaro, I had such a Dream,
Such a fine flattering Dream—
Pis. How was it, pray?
Alcip. Nay, I will forget it;
I do not merit so much peace of mind,
As the relation of that Dream will give me:
Oh, ‘twas so perfect, too,
I hardly can persuade my self I slept!
Dost thou believe there may be Apparitions?
Pis. Doubtless, my Lord, there be.
Alcip. I never could believe it till this hour, By Heavens, I think I saw them too, Pisaro.