SCENE I.--_At the Haymarket.--Darkness visible. Out of it come
Voices._
_First Voice_ (_probably on stage_). "_Who's there?_"
_Second V._ (_probably in auditorium_). I can't see. Is it TREE?
_Third V._ "_Nay, answer me: stand and unfold yourself._"
_Fourth V._ I wish I could unfold the seat to let people pass.
_Third V._ "_You come most carefully upon your hour._"
_Fourth V._ Why on earth can't people be more punctual?
_First V._ "_'Tis now struck twelve._"
_Fourth V._ About a dozen people have hit my head scrambling past in
the dark.
_Third V._ "_For this relief much thanks._"
_Fourth V._ They seem to have got in at last.
_Third V._ "_'Tis bitter cold._"
_Fifth V._ Oh, EDWIN, dear, I do wish they'd send away the ghost, and
turn up the lights.
_Third V._ "_Not a mouse stirring._" [_Crash._
_Sixth V._ There goes my opera-glass! Deuce of a job to find it.
_Third V._ "_Stand, ho!_"
_Seventh V._ Bless my soul, Ma'am, are you aware that you're standing
on my foot?
_Third V._ "BERNARDO _has my place._"
_Sixth V._ Here's someone taken my seat!
_First V._ "_What, is_ HORATIO _there?_"
_Eighth V._ Hullo, dear boy, how are you? Couldn't see you--but now
the light's a bit up--(_&c., &c._).
* * * * *
A CRITERION OF MORALS.
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