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CRAWFORD.

Dear Claude! why wilt thou dwell on things so dismal?

Let me read to thee from some pious book;

Wilt thou permit me? (He remains silent and thoughtful.) Dost thou hear me, Claude?

CLAUDE (muttering to himself without attending to Crawford).

The sexton has the key; and if he had not,

The wall may yet be clear'd.—
The banded mourners scatter to their homes,
Where kinsfolk meet, and social hearths blaze bright,
And leave the grave in midnight loneliness;
But should it be?

CRAWFORD (listening to him).

I understand these words:

But if he go, he shall not go alone.

Enter a Servant.

CLAUDE (impatiently).

What brings thee here?

SERVANT.

A gentleman desires to see you, Sir.