God wot! [Lies on couch]
Glaia is dead. Be quiet now.
Hast heard I was her mother? There's a secret—
No—no—I must not speak it—but 'twill out
By doomsgate, so they say. You are a priest;
Canst tell how far 'tis from the grave to hell?
You think they'll let me lie a little first
And see how 'tis to sleep? 'Tis a long walk,
I'll lie quite still, and give no trouble—none. [Dies]
Hen. Help! Something to revive her.