FRANCIS. Yes, balsam of life on sugar! The minister will not be here just yet. My voice is weak and faltering. Give me of the balsam of life on sugar!
DANIEL. Let me have the keys, I will go down to the closet and get it.
FRANCIS. No! no! no! Stay!—or I will go with you. You see I must not be left alone! How easily I might, you see—faint—if I should be left alone. Never mind, never mind! It will pass off—you must not leave me.
DANIEL. Indeed, Sir, you are ill, very ill.
FRANCIS. Yes, just so, just so, nothing more. And illness, you know, bewilders the brain, and breeds strange and maddening dreams. What signify dreams? Dreams come from the stomach and cannot signify anything. Is it not so, Daniel? I had a very comical dream just now. (He sinks down fainting.)
DANIEL. Oh, merciful heaven! what is this? George!—Conrad!
Sebastian! Martin! Give but some sign of life! (Shaking him.) Oh, the
Blessed Virgin! Oh, Joseph! Keep but your reason! They will say I
have murdered him! Lord have mercy upon me!
FRANCIS (confused). Avaunt!—avaunt!—why dost thou glare upon me thus, thou horrible spectre? The time for the resurrection of the dead is not yet come.
DANIEL. Merciful heavens! he has lost his senses.
FRANCIS (recovering himself gradually). Where am I? You here, Daniel?
What have I said? Heed it not. I have told a lie, whatever I said.
Come, help me up! 'T was only a fit of delirium—because—because—I
have not finished my night's rest.
DANIEL. If John were but here! I'll call for help—I'll send for the physician.