AMELIA (reads). "And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a kid of the
goats, and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of many
colors, and they brought it to their father, and said, 'This have we
found: know now whether it be thy son's coat or no.' (Exit FRANCIS
suddenly.) And he knew it and said, 'It is my son's coat; an evil beast
hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces'"

OLD MOOR (falls back upon the pillow). An evil beast hath devoured
Joseph!

AMELIA (continues reading). "And Jacob rent his clothes, and put
sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days. And all
his sons and all his daughters rose up to comfort him, but he refused to
be comforted, and he said, 'For I will go down into the grave'"

OLD MOOR. Leave off! leave off. I feel very ill.

AMELIA (running towards him, lets fall the book). Heaven help us! What
is this?

OLD MOOR. It is death--darkness--is waving--before my eyes--I pray
thee--send for the minister--that he may--give me--the Holy Communion.
Where is--my son Francis?

AMELIA. He is fled. God have mercy upon us!

OLD MOOR. Fled--fled from his father's deathbed? And is that all--all
--of two children full of promise--thou hast given--thou hast--taken
away--thy name be--

AMELIA (with a sudden cry). Dead! both dead!
[Exit in despair.]

Enter FRANCIS, dancing with joy.

FRANCIS. Dead, they cry, dead! Now am I master. Through the whole
castle it rings, dead! but stay, perchance he only sleeps? To be sure,
yes, to be sure! that certainly is a sleep after which no "good-morrow"
is ever said. Sleep and death are but twin-brothers. We will for once
change their names! Excellent, welcome sleep! We will call thee death!
(He closes the eyes of OLD MOOR.) Who now will come forward and dare to
accuse me at the bar of justice, or tell me to my face, thou art a
villain? Away, then, with this troublesome mask of humility and virtue!
Now you shall see Francis as he is, and tremble! My father was
overgentle in his demands, turned his domain into a family-circle, sat
blandly smiling at the gate, and saluted his peasants as brethren and
children. My brows shall lower upon you like thunderclouds; my lordly
name shall hover over you like a threatening comet over the mountains;
my forehead shall be your weather-glass! He would caress and fondle
the child that lifted its stubborn head against him. But fondling and
caressi