_Host._ The Lord be with ye; [_Exeunt Guests._] and make sound vessels of ye! [_Aside._] for the holding of good liquor. This is the best company I have had for long. How restless I feel. I cannot help thinking of my dream, that Wyckoff and the other would have slain me, and 'twas in this very room. Let me see, I dreamt too they hid something--this plank seems loose. I could fancy now this were the fag-end of my dream--[_Lifts the Plank._] What is here?--As I live, my keys, and a bundle of papers.-- [_Reads._] "To Master Arthur Walton?" Why, he hath not been here, for long. If now it 'twere Basil his brother and the Captain had left them here--from Sir Marmaduke Langdale too. Here is something wrong. I feel choked. Let me put them back. Why now, I could swear I had seen them placed there. It is very odd. And to think of my keys too. I could fancy they were only skeletons. Yet I know their jingle well. I'll to my brewer now, and, as there is no one here, I say [_looks round_] God keep the poor king's head on his shoulders, and may it be long ere he die on his bier! [_Exit, R._] SCENE II. [_1st Cut._] [_3rd Grooves._] _An Apartment in Hampton Court. The LADY ELIZABETH reading. In an inner chamber are ARTHUR and FLORENCE. Practicable door 2nd E.R._ [_ARTHUR is heard singing to a lute in the adjoining chamber._] SONG When thy lover, dear, is nigh thee, Look not on the world around, In his eyes be thy blue vision, In his eyes thy vision bound-- For thou'lt find all Heaven, I swear, By thy gaze reflected there! In thy ripe lips is his summer, Autumn in thy braided hair; Jealous is he of spring's snow-drops Stolen from thy neck's warm care; But the winter of his mind Is when thou, love, art unkind: In thee rounded, thus, his year, Joy, doubt, sweet content, and fear. _Eliz._ [_Throwing down the book._] The black print seems all red--I cannot read! [_Points to the inner room._] Mine eyes burn so--And they are happy there Together--'twas my work--and now I wish That seas convuls'd by tempests were between them; And an eternal veil of blackness girded The one from the other--each in separate light, But still apart! apart! O horror, why Doth their communion cast such hopeless gloom Upon me, more than all a father's guilt, A sovereign's woe?--O daughter of a traitor! Traitoress! Thou lovest him thy friend doth love, And--he loves her! ay, that is it, he loves her. [_Laughs hysterically._]