Carl (drinking unconcernedly).
Whose is it? faith, I know not—
And, yet, 'tis my companion's: he's like you,
And does not care to tell his name and station.100
[The voice again and nearer.
Josepha. 'Tis his—I knew it—Ulric!—Ulric!—Ulric!
[She drops the wine and rushes out.
Carl. The flask's unhurt—but every drop is spilt.
Confound the voice! I say—would he were dumb!
And faith! to me, he has been nearly so—