NORTH.
This is your true total Eclipse of the Sun. Day, not night, is the time for thunder and lightning. Night can be dark of itself—nay, cannot help it; but when Day grows black, then is the blackness of darkness in the Bright One terrible;—and terror—Burke said well—is at the heart of the sublime. The Light, such as it is, sets off the power of the lightning—it pales to that flashing—and is forgotten in Fire. It smells of hell.
SEWARD.
It is constitutional in the Sewards. North, I am sick.
NORTH.
Give way to gasping—and lie down—nothing can be done for you. The danger is not—
SEWARD.
I am not afraid—I am faint.
NORTH.
You must speak louder, if you expect to be heard by ears of clay. Peals is not the word. "Peals on peals redoubled" is worse. There never was—and never will be a word in any language—for all that.