Soloman— Sing me a sea-song.
Andrew— It's too raw
A night, lad.
(He holds his taper up toward Soloman's, when suddenly some one carrying a light appears at the farther corner of the dormitory. Soloman jerks back his candle.)
Eh? It's Bill-o'-the-wisp!
God save us, man! Moving! It's a torch.
(The light passes behind the chapel. Andrew walks back in the court.)
How the wind blows! There's blood in it. Caw, rooks,
Chatter and caw. Villainy is abroad.
There's blood on the stones somewhere, fresh blood.
(He stands looking in the direction whence the light disappeared.)
It's the new deer-man fastening up the dogs.
He hunts in the night when the brockets o' the wood
Come to the stream to drink. And none to tell them
O' the foul spear. No abbot-stag to say—
Standing to his belly in the stream—
"Drink will be the death of you." It's a foul world.
(Returning toward the window.)