"'Swoon,' sayest thou?" To Shimei, Lysias thus; "That is not death, thou thinkest, but a swoon?"
"It looks indeed like death," the crafty Jew Responded; "yea, it looks like death indeed. It was not meant, but death it sure must be."
"What wilt thou say?" said Lysias. "'Was not meant!'-- Thy words conceal thy meaning; speak it out."
"Why, sir, I have no meaning to conceal," The Jew replied, "no meaning to conceal. I only thought, I could but only think-- Why, see, Paul was Gamaliel's pupil once, And loved his master, so as such can love; At least I thought so. Paul, for sure I know, Gamaliel like a doting father loved."
"Thou dost not thus explain, 'It was not meant'; Out with thy thought, sir Jew," the chiliarch said. "What was not meant? By whom not meant? Forsooth, Not by Gamaliel meant that he should die? Except the suicide, none means to die; And death like this is not the suicide's."
"Oh, nay, sir," Shimei said, "no suicide Was our Gamaliel; far the heinous thought! A good old man, whom all the people loved, Paul even, yea, Paul--I thought--till now--but now-- But I will not believe so base of him, Even him; he did not mean it, did not mean Worse than to make Gamaliel deeply sleep. Paul's drug belike was stronger than he thought, Or weaker waxed Gamaliel with his age. Paul would himself repent it, now, too late-- Particularly since of no avail, Thy wise forestalling plan defeating his, And fruit none from it ripening to his hand!"
"This is too foully base!" said Lysias, And Shimei's heart misgave him with a fear. 'Too foully base insinuation mine, Does Lysias mean?' he closely asked himself; But calmly, with deep candor, said aloud: "Yea, even for Paul, beyond belief too base! Paul never meant it, I shall still insist. He meant at most such sleep as should prevail Over Gamaliel's scruple to take part Willingly in his surreptitious flight. And such a master of his arts is Paul, I shrewdly doubt if here his mark he missed. Were Paul but now at hand to try his skill, I should not wonder yet to see this swoon Yield to some potent drug of counter force, And good Gamaliel wake to life again. Once, as they say--in Troas, I believe-- Where he all night was lengthening out harangue, After his manner, in an upper room, A youngster, tired to death of hearing him, And sensible enough to go to sleep, Not sensible enough to seat him safe, Fell headlong out of window, whence he sat, A good three stories' fall--which finished him. Stay, not so fast--thou reckonest without Paul! Yea, Paul performed some sort of magic rite Over the body of the luckless lad, Which, presto, brought him round as brisk as ever! A mighty master in his kind, that Paul!"