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And all the souls, that damned be,
Leapt up at once in anarchy,
Clapp'd their hands and danced for glee.
They no longer heeded me;
But laugh'd to hear Hell's burning rafters
Unwillingly re-echo laughters!
No! no! no!
Spirits hear what spirits tell:
'Twill make an holiday in Hell!

Famine.

Whisper it, sister! so and so!

In a dark hint, soft and slow.

Slaughter.

Letters four do form his name—

And who sent you?

Both.

The same! the same!

Slaughter.

He came by stealth, and unlock'd my den,

And I have drank the blood since then
Of thrice three hundred thousand men.