Whetstone [still dreaming].
See how he glares upon me!
Bluegrass.
Rest, warrior, rest! You go forth not to death, but to glorious immortality.
[Rooster crows.
Whetstone [starting up].
Take him away; he is killing me! Oh, oh! [Observing Bluegrass] Who are you?
Bluegrass [cheerfully].
Your trusty friend and second in this valiant enterprise. I’ve just returned from Fopdoodle’s second. We have arranged the place, time, weapons, and conditions of the duel very satisfactorily.
Whetstone.