(Aside.) My feet are in the gin! True, I did naught
But what I must; and yet a horror grips me
That he—before my eyes comes Aristobulus.
Accurséd be the dead that flings a shadow
Ere it steps into life!
Mar.
Like to a crazy blister of the brain
Whose swollen puffiness at times will split,
So was it—From this hour my life begins.
Until to-day I dreamed!