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time.) Nothing.—Begone! Fill me some wine there—but quick.
(Exit Daniel.
Francis.
No matter—the rascal will confess all, if I put him to the torture.—I'll penetrate him with a look so dreadful, that his conscience shall betray him. (He stops before a portrait of Charles, and examines it.) That long crane's neck!—those dark, lowering eye-brows!—that eye that shoots fire! (Shuddering.) All-blasting hell! is it thy presentiment?—'Tis he! it must be Charles himself!
Enter Daniel, with a cup of wine.
Put it down there.—Look at me—stedfastly!—What, your knees are shaking!—you tremble! confess, Sir!—What have you done?
Daniel.
Nothing—as I hope for mercy!
Francis.
Drink that wine off.—What,—do you hesitate? Speak!—quick!—What have you put in that wine?
Daniel.