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Rh

Round! round! pots be round, dishes be round; a' fou for Wilkin! burr, burr!

To the right, to the right, to the right we wheel; Thou heaving earth, free passage give, and our dark Prince reveal. To the right, &c. (three times, then turning the contrary way.) To the left, to the left, to the left we go; Ye folding clouds, your curtain rend, and our great Master show.

(Loud thunder.)

Is he coming yet?

Is he coming, Grizeld Bane? I see nothing.

Hold thy peace, or I'll strangle thee! Is it for a wretch like thee to utter earthly words on the very verge of such an awful presence?

For God's sake!—for Satan's sake!—for ony sake, let gang thy terrible grip. (A tremendous loud peal.)