Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/65

Rh

It is mine hour of horror: 'tis upon me! I hear th'approaching sound of feet unearthly: I feel the pent-up vapour's chilly breath Burst from the yawning vault:—It is at hand. Ha! com'st thou still in white and sheeted weeds, With hand thus pointing to thy bloody side? Thy grave is deep enough in hallow'd ground! Why com'st thou ever on my midnight rest? What dost thou want? If thou hast power, as seeming, Stretch forth thine arm and take my life; then free From fleshy fears, in nature as thyself, I'll follow thee to hell, and there abide The searing flames: but here, upon this earth, Is placed between the living and the dead An awful mystery of separation, Which makes their meeting frightful and unhallow'd. Ha! what art thou? (starting and turning round to Rayner.)

Nay, thou with bristling locks, loose knocking joints