1898 · PDF PAGE 17
The Poem
114 MYSTERIES : VAUGHAN [bending over Percy]. Are you hurt? PERCY. Oh, hardly hurt at all! Only my head a little, and I wanted so to finish the poem to-night. ESME, Let me come to him, father. Oh, Percy, Percy, look at me, look at me; you're not hurt, are you? PERCY. Am I ever hurt with your arms round me? ESME., : Oh, but you grow whiter; you must be hurt. VAUGHAN. A knife! He must have stabbed him. Fetch a doctor, one of you, sharp! [Exzt a man. ESME. It is his heart; see, my hand is all covered with blood. Give me a handkerchief. Here,I will…
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