I can bear scorpions' stings, tread fields of fire,
In frozen gulphs of cold eternal lie;
Be toss'd aloft through tracks of endless void,
But cannot live in shame—(Pauses.) O! impious thought!
Will the great God of mercy, mercy have
On all but those who are most miserable?
Will he not punish with a pitying hand
The poor fall'n, froward child? (Pauses.)
And shall I then against his will offend,
Because he is most good and merciful?
O! horrid baseness! what, what shall I do?
I'll think no more—it turns my dizzy brain—
It is too late to think—what must be, must be—
I cannot live, therefore I needs must die.
(Takes up the pistols, and walks up and down, looking wildly around him, then discovering the cave's mouth.)
Where an uncoffin'd corse may rest in peace,
And hide its foul corruption from the earth.
The threshold is unmark'd by mortal foot,
I'll do it here.
(Enters the cave and Exit: a deep silence; then the report of a pistol is heard from the cave, and soon after, Enter Rosinberg, Valtomer, two Officers and Soldiers, almost at the same moment, by different sides of the stage.)
Ros. This way the sound did come.
Valt. How came ye, soldiers? heard ye that report?
