Governor. Well, Wilson, you
Shall not escape me. Gentlemen, the wine
We leave you; keep it company.—And, Dimsdell,
Forget it not, to-morrow thou must preach
A grand election sermon. The people do

Expect a master effort, man. Fail not.

[Exeunt Governor and Wilson.

Roger. He will not fail them, Governor; a tongue
Of flame is his. What ails thee, Dimsdell?
How now? Why man!

Dimsdell. I'm very weak. The pain about my heart—

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Roger. Nay, courage, man! 'Twill leave thee soon. I'll get a cup of wine to cheer thee up.

Dimsdell. Do, I pray. And, Doctor, give me something to abate this agony.

Roger. I will.

[Exit.