DEACON ROBERTS. [The butter trickling down his face, yelling with sudden violence.] Hell is here an' now. Here in Bala, here in Y Gegin, here with us! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners!
[All moan together.
HUGH. [Whispering.] Uch, here!
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, here!
MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss.
TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. [Terrified.] Aye. Amen! Yiss!
NELI. [Whispering.] Here in Y Gegin!
DEACON ROBERTS. [Clapping his hands to his face.] Stones of Baal, stones of darkness, slimy with ooze, red-hot ooze, thick vapors! Howl ye, howl, ye sinners! [All moan and groan. Takes a glance at clock, passes hand over face and runs on madly, neck rigid, eyes staring, fat red cheeks turning to purple.] Midday, not midnight, is the hour of hell; its sun never sets! But who knows when comes that hour of hell?
NELI. [Taking hands from counter and crossing them as she whispers.] Who knows?
ALL. [Groaning.] Who knows?