An Empty Glass.
193
Poor mortal death I have to fight against,
And I shall conquer, darling. I shall snatch
Your life from his cold clutches, and within
The warm core of my heart renourish you.
Oh! typhoid! only typhoid—virulent—
Oh, only this, and not forgetfulness.]
[Aloud] Who is the doctor?
And I shall conquer, darling. I shall snatch
Your life from his cold clutches, and within
The warm core of my heart renourish you.
Oh! typhoid! only typhoid—virulent—
Oh, only this, and not forgetfulness.]
[Aloud] Who is the doctor?
Nurse F.—
Lamont of Worthington, and Templer called
In consultation, and they speak of Dix,
But what's the good of keeping me in talk
And wasting all my time? Here, let me go—
Hortense! I must, I've got to find a nurse.
Lamont of Worthington, and Templer called
In consultation, and they speak of Dix,
But what's the good of keeping me in talk
And wasting all my time? Here, let me go—
Hortense! I must, I've got to find a nurse.
Hortense—
Be silent! let me think. The doctors—h'm—
They never saw me—that's alright, and Grey,
Emmie—yes—lucky! she is dark—
And much my height, and here's her luggage—Yes,
This basket. Open it. Don't be a fool.
Obey me instantly. That's better. Now—
These skirts—exactly right, the very length,
And blouses, collars, cuffs, and aprons, caps,
I do not like the aprons, you shall go
Be silent! let me think. The doctors—h'm—
They never saw me—that's alright, and Grey,
Emmie—yes—lucky! she is dark—
And much my height, and here's her luggage—Yes,
This basket. Open it. Don't be a fool.
Obey me instantly. That's better. Now—
These skirts—exactly right, the very length,
And blouses, collars, cuffs, and aprons, caps,
I do not like the aprons, you shall go
