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In sad array, are with the darkness fled. But what avails the light? for now, since sickness Has press'd upon my soul, in my lone moments, E'en in the full light of my torch-clad walls, A horrid spectre rises to my sight, Close by my side, and plain and palpable, In all good seeming and close circumstance, As man meets man.

Qu. Mercy upon us! What form does it wear?

Ethw. My murder'd brother's form. He stands close by my side: his ghastly head Shakes horridly upon its sever'd neck As if new from the heads-man's stroke: it moves Still as I move; and when I look upon it, It looks—No, no! I can no utt'rance find To tell thee how it looks on me again.

Qu. Yet, fear not now: I shall not long be absent; And thou may'st hear my footsteps all the while, It is so short a space.(Exit Queen.

''Ethw. (returning to the middle of the stage.)'' I'll fix my stedfast eyes upon the ground, And turn to other things my tutor'd thoughts It may not be: I feel upon my mind The horrid sense that preludes still its coming.