You have not then heard the news about yourself?
Such interesting echoes reach the last
A man's own ear. The public has decreed
You and the countess run away together.
'Tis certain she has balked the London Argos,
And that she has been often to your house.
The count believes it—clearly from his face:
The man is dying slowly on his feet.
Lord S. (starting up and ringing the bell).
O God! what am I? My love burns like hate,
Scorching and blasting with a fiery breath!
Bern.
What the deuce ails you, Seaford? Are you raving?
Enter Waiter.
Lord S. Post-chaise for London—four horses—instantly.
[He sinks exhausted in his chair.]
SCENE XXI.—LILY in bed. JULIAN seated by her.
Lily.
O father, take me on your knee, and nurse me.
Another story is very nearly done.
[He takes her on his knees.]
I am so tired! Think I should like to go
Down to the warm place that the flowers come from,
Where all the little boys and girls are lying
In little beds—white curtains, and white tassels.
—No, no, no—it is so dark down there!
Father will not come near me all the night.