Mrs. Bev. You feel convulsed too—What is't disturbs you?
Lew. This sudden turn of joy perhaps. He wants rest too. Last night was dreadful to him. His brain is giddy.
Char. Ay, never to be cured. Why, brother!—O! I fear! I fear!
Mrs. Bev. Preserve him, heaven!—My love! my life! look at me!—How his eyes flame!
Bev. A furnace rages in this heart—I have been too hasty.
Mrs. Bev. Indeed!—O me! O me!—Help, Jarvis! Fly, fly for help! Your master dies else—Weep not, but fly! (Exit Jarvis) What is this hasty deed?—Yet do not answer me—My fears have guessed it.
Bev. Call back the messenger. 'Tis not in medicine's power to help me.
Mrs. Bev. Is it then so?
Bev. Down, restless flames!—(Laying his hand on his heart) down to your native hell!— there you shall rack me—O! for a pause from pain!
Mrs. Bev. Help, Charlotte! Support him, Sir! (To Lewson)