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WILKIN.

Round! round! pots be round, dishes be round; a' fou for Wilkin! burr, burr!

[Grizeld Bane joins them, and they all take hands, moving in a circular direction, and speaking all together in a dull chanting measure.]

To the right, to the right, to the right we wheel;
Thou heaving earth, free passage give, and our dark Prince reveal.
To the right, &c. (three times, then turning the contrary way.)
To the left, to the left, to the left we go;
Ye folding clouds, your curtain rend, and our great Master show.

(Loud thunder.)

ELSPY LOW (after a pause).

Is he coming yet?

MARY MACMURREN.

Is he coming, Grizeld Bane? I see nothing.

GRIZELD BANE (seizing her by the throat).

Hold thy peace, or I'll strangle thee! Is it for a wretch like thee to utter earthly words on the very verge of such an awful presence?

MARY MACMURREN.

For God's sake!—for Satan's sake!—for ony sake, let gang thy terrible grip.
(A tremendous loud peal.)