Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/408

That human hands could do it!
(Drops the cloth again.)

Man. That is the murder'd corps; here lies De Monfort.
(Going to uncover the other body.)

Jer. (Turning away his head.) No, no! I cannot look upon him now.

Man. Didst thou not come to see him?

Jer. Fy! cover him—inter him in the dark—
Let no one look upon him.

Bern to Jer. Well dost thou show the abhorrence nature feels
For deeds of blood, and I commend thee well.
In the most ruthless heart compassion wakes
For one who, from the hand of fellow man,
Hath felt such cruelty.
(Uncovering the body of Rezenvelt.)
This is the murder'd corse,
(Uncovering the body of De Monfort.)
But see, I pray!
Here lies the murderer. What think'st thou here?
Look on those features, thou hast seen them oft,
With the last dreadful conflict of despair,
So fix'd in horrid strength.
See those knit brows, those hollow sunken eyes;
The sharpen'd nose, with nostrils all distent;
That writhed mouth, where yet the teeth appear,
In agony, to gnash the nether lip.
Think'st thou, less painful than the murd'rer's knife
Was such a death as this?