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The Doctor.
Yes. You also go?
Brand.
Not now.
The Doctor.
<g>Have</g> been, I daresay?
Brand.
No.
The Doctor.
Priest, you are hard. Through mist and snow
I've trudged across the desolate fell,
Well knowing that she is of those
Who pay like paupers.
Brand.
May God bless
Your skill and your unweariedness!
Ease, if you can, her bitter throes.
The Doctor.
Bless my goodwill! I tarried not
A moment when I heard her state.
Brand.
You she has summon'd: I'm forgot,—
And sick at heart, I wait, I wait.
The Doctor.
Come without summons!
Brand.
Till she calls,
I have no place within those walls.
