Oh yes! Are the birds all caged? The wild beasts all littered down? All the locks, chains, bolts, and bars in good order? Is the Little Ease sufficiently uncomfortable? The racks, pincers, and thumbscrews all ready for work? Ugh! you brute!
Wil.
These allusions to my professional duties are in doubtful taste. I didn't become a head-jailer because I like head-jailing. I didn't become an assistant-tormentor because I like assistant-tormenting. We can't all be sorcerers, you know. (Phœbeannoyed.) Ah! you brought that upon yourself.
Phœ.
Colonel Fairfax is not a sorcerer. He's a man of science and an alchemist.
Wil.
Well, whatever he is, he won't be one long, for he's to be beheaded to-day for dealings with the devil. His master nearly had him last night, when the fire broke out in the Beauchamp Tower.
Phœ.
Oh! how I wish he had escaped in the confusion! But take care; there's still time for a reply to his petition for mercy.
Wil.
Ah! I'm content to chance that. This evening at half-past-seven—ah !
Phœ.
You're a cruel monster to speak so unfeelingly of the death of a young and handsome soldier.
Wil.
Young and handsome! How do you know he's young and handsome?
Phœ.
Because I've seen him every day for weeks past taking his exercise on the Beauchamp Tower.
Wil.
Curse him!
Phœ.
There, I believe you're jealous of him, now. Jealous of a man I've never spoken to! Jealous of a poor soul who's to die in an hour!
Wil.
I am! I'm jealous of everybody and everything. I'm jealous of the very words I speak to you—because they reach your ears—and I mustn't go near 'em!
Phœ.
How unjust you are! Jealous of the words you speak to me! Why, you know as well as I do that I don't even like them.
Wil.
You used to like 'em.
Phœ.
I used to pretend I liked them. It was mere politeness to comparative strangers.
[ExitPhœbe, with spinning wheel.
Wil.
I don't believe you know what jealousy is! I don't believe you know how it eats into a man's heart—and disorders his digestion—and turns his interior into boiling lead. Oh, you are a heartless jade to trifle with the delicate organization of the human interior!
[Exit Wilfred.
Enter crowd of Men and Women, followed by Yeomen of the Guard.
