Onora (in sleep).
Nay, leave me this—but only this! 't is but a dream, sweet fiend!
Evil Spirit.
It is a thought.
Onora (in sleep).
A sleeping thought—most innocent of good:
It doth the Devil no harm, sweet fiend! it cannot if it would.
I say in it no holy hymn, I do no holy work,
I scarcely hear the sabbath-bell that chimeth from the kirk.
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!
Onora (in sleep).
Nay, let me dream at least.
That far-off bell, it may be took for viol at a feast:
I only walk among the fields, beneath the autumn-sun,
With my dead father, hand in hand, as I have often done.