Phil. Oh, horror! What is it?
Ned. Oh, murder! What is it?
Zeke. The what-is-it? No: it isn’t that. That’s one of Barnum’s curiosities.
Ned. For mercy’s sake tell me what is gnawing at my vitals. I feel my strength failing me. I’m sure I’m a dead man. (Kneels, R. of Zeke.) I confess it was I who drank your filthy stuff.
Phil (kneels, L. of Zeke). And I confess too. I did drink your poison. What shall we do? Save us if you can.
Chick (kneels in front of Zeke). O massa! I spec’s I’s a goner.
Zeke. Halloo, little nig, what’s the matter with you?
Chick. Dunno, massa, spec’s there’s a yearthquake inside me.
Zeke. Did you drink from that demijohn?
Chick. Yes, massa: spec I did. You tole me to lay down and get dry; and, by golly! I got dry so fast, I couldn’t help drinking. Sartin sure, hope I may die, massa.