Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/56

RAYNER.

Here, on thy left.

COUNT ZATERLOO.

Surely these wild scenes have depriv'd thy tongue

Of speech. Let's hear thy voice's sound, good man,
To say thou art alive. Thou'rt marvellous silent:
Didst thou not also hear them?

RAYNER.

I know not truly if I did. Around me,

All seems like the dark mingled mimicry
Of fev'rish fleep; in which the half-doubting mind,
Wilder'd and weary, with a deep-drawn breath,
Says to itself, "Shall I not wake?"

COUNT ZATERLOO.

Fy, man!

Wilt thou not keep thy soldier's spirit up?
To-morow's sun will be thy waking time,
And thou wilt wake a rich man and a free.

RAYNER.

My waking time!—no, no! I must sleep on,

And have no waking.

COUNT ZATERLOO.

Ha! does thy mind misgive thee on the brink?

RAYNER.

What passes in my mind, to thee is nothing,