[Enter Hildreth, Salerne, and Abbot. Their clothes are torn and their faces scratched and bruised. Hildreth kneels by Sir Tristram. Salerne and Abbot take charge of Groom.] Hildreth. Tristram! My friend! My chief! Sir T. Hildreth! Good lad! Europa. You fool; you dull, dull groom! Let _me_; let _me!_ [Europa and Hildreth support Sir Tristram while one of the Doctors attends to his wound.] Tristram, you need me now! Sir T. Europa! Yes; I love to have a woman near me.--Death, Sudden as I desired: but one regret-- One only; my theatre. If you had struck Before I sold it! Groom. Curse me, can't you, Tristram! Belfry. [To himself] He'll want the bargain cancelled. Shall I? No; I need the Grosvenor, and the Grosvenor's mine. [Goes out quickly.] Sir T. [Giving Hildreth the cheque] Yet I die solvent, Hildreth. Belfry's cheque: It rings a merry peal. Unless--By Heaven! Belfry, you'll not exact this now! Hildreth. He's gone, Sir Tristram. Sir T. Fearing the appeal of death, I verily believe.--A music-hall? It matters nothing what comes after me: I had my day. Groom. Abuse, deride, provoke Me back to madness: thought and deed are seas Asunder: I would lay my own life down Not to have struck. Machines we are, wound up To weave we know not what. I languish now Like wing'd exasperation that expends A virulent dart, and, hebetated, dies. [Enter Temple.] Temple. Sir Tristram! Where's my master? Salerne. Silence, fool! Temple. But something terrible has come to pass. Sir T. Something extravagant since Temple shouts. Temple. Are _you_ dead also, sir? Sir T. Not dead yet, Temple. Who else is dead or dying? Is Gervase gone? 1st Doctor. The Bishop breathes again; but cannot live, Though consciousness returns. Sir T. Lay me beside him: We two should die together.--Let Temple speak Before you move me.--Temple, what's the matter? Temple. Your lady, sir; she's dead; and on the floor I found this vial. Sir T. She lies at peace? Temple. She seemed Asleep. I tiptoed to the dressing-room Afraid to wake her. Then I felt a ghost Or something near me. Peeping out, I saw No motion on the couch; the lady dead, Her face like paper and her lips all blue. Groom. I saw her die as sweetly as she lived, A sacrifice forlorn. She should have been A worshipped wife, a mother guarded close With children: what she was we made her--you And I---- Sir T. Enough of that! Groom. Enough; it serves My purpose gallantly! I feel again The murderer in my nerves, not to be purged Until the rope swings taut: out of the earth, Through the foundations of your theatre, It mounts into my brain, a seething fire. How good it was to kill you--you that stood Between me and the world! Sir T. You took your chance With others.