[Waking, stirs.] Pray is it time?
Second Lob.
[Waking, turns.] Eh? Time? ’Tis always time.
Is ever there a time when ’tis not time?
First Lob.
I mean, is it the hour for chanticleer
To crow the sun up, Lob to vanish?
Second Lob.
Nay!
So warm the hearth, so bright the embers glow,