And you must think we love her as you loved your mother.
Shakespeare:
[Half wandering.] Ah! My mother! The gentlest, sweetest—the noblest mother in the world! I often call to her as if she were still here, and feel her hands upon my forehead. I think I’ll sleep now. The long day’s work is done! [Closes his eyes in death.]
Judith Shakespeare:
[Enters.] The doctor’s coming.
Mistress Hall:
[Looking at Shakespeare.] I am afraid he’s dead, Judith.
Judith Shakespeare:
[Sobbing on her knees.] O! Father, dear, dear, dear— [Rises from her knees at the bedside.] Oh, Susanna, look! he’s happy; look! he’s smiling.