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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Sir Paul Parravicin!" echoed Chowles. "By all that's wonderful, so it is! Here is a lucky chance! Bring the dead-cart hither, Jonas quick, quick! I shall put him under the care of Judith Malmayns." And the burier hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
That fellow was from Penrhyn; like all the Penrhyn islanders he was ill to manage; heady, jealous, violent: the man with the nose! He lies here quiet enough. And so they all lie. 'And darkness was the burier of the dead!" He stood, in the strong glow of the sunset, with bowed head; his voice sounded now sweet and now bitter with the varying sense.
"Apropos of melancholy subjects," said Etherege, "your masque of the Dance of Death has caused great consternation at court. Mistress Stewart declares she cannot get that strange fellow who performed such fantastic tricks in the skeleton-dance out of her head." "You mean Chowles," replied the earl. "He is a singular being, certainly once a coffin-maker, and now, I believe, a burier of the dead.
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