And I as though my skull were splitting in two--as though the very brains were coming out of it. They must have turned all maggoty, those brains, for they smell like mouldy cheese. Or, rather, like carrion. O my God, my God! To-night I am going to creep up to her on my hands and knees, and slit her throat for her. Yes, her blood shall flow to-night; that nice red blood of hers shall soon be streaming down her breast. Three men keep following me about everywhere. Some day they mean to catch me alone in some dark, lonely spot, and murder me. At this very moment they are waiting for me outside. What sort of a creature is it keeps walking about over the walls and ceiling? O my God! They have come in! They are after me! Who are? Those three men! I cannot move hand or foot! Whatever shall I do? Whatever shall I do? See! My clothes are slipping off me! Soon I shall be turned inside out--and a fine sight I shall look then! Help, some one! Help! A monster is after me! It is seizing me by the hand! Help! Help! What is it? God be with us! 'Tis a! monstrous spider! Help! Help! [_For a few moments some of the drunkards continue reiterating these cries for help._] Oh, we are drunk; that is all. Go and call down the rest of the town. It is so cold and miserable up there. No, no; I dare not ascend into the street. If I were to do so I should find _her_ waiting for me, and raging like a wild beast. She would kill me, to a certainty. Well, there are enough of us here already, so let us have some more liquor, and be merry. No, no! It only gives me the horrors. I have been shaking with them this many an hour past. Better the horrors than real life. Who would want to be sober, and to go back to real life? Not I! Nor I! I would rather stay down here. No, I have no wish to go back to life. Nor has any one else. O my God, my God! Why does the Man come here? He drinks little, but he sits much. _We_ don't want his company. No, indeed! Let him go home, since he has a home to go to. 'Tis a home with sixteen rooms in it! Yes, but they are empty now. Only the rats scamper and squeak in them. But he has a wife? No, she is dead. [_Throughout this dialogue the Old Women seen in Act I have, one by one, been entering the drinking den. Clad in the same weird garments as before, they seat themselves silently in places vacated by departing revellers. Likewise they continue to enter during the dialogue which follows. Neither their entry nor the fact of their interjecting scattered remarks into the general conversation seems to excite surprise among the company present, nor even to be noticed._] ~Mingled Dialogue of Drunkards and Old Women.~~ The Man is near his end now. He can scarce stand for very weakness. Do you know, he has a mansion with sixteen rooms in it! Sixteen rooms! Listen to the beating of his heart, how irregular and feeble it is! Soon it will have stopped for ever.