ACT THE SECOND.
Scene I.—Apartment in a Palace.
Eribert.Constance.
Constance. Will you not hear me?—Oh! that they who need
Hourly forgiveness, they who do but live,
While Mercy's voice, beyond th' eternal stars,
Wins the great Judge to listen, should be thus,
In their vain exercise of pageant power,
Hard and relentless!—Gentle brother, yet,
'T is in your choice to imitate that heaven
Whose noblest joy is pardon.
Eribert.'T is too late.
You have a soft and moving voice, which pleads
With eloquent melody—but they must die.
Con. What, die!—for words?—for breath, which leaves no trace
To sully the pure air, wherewith it blends,
And is, being utter'd, gone?—Why, 't were enough
For such a venial fault, to be deprived
One little day of man's free heritage,
Heaven's warm and sunny light! —Oh! if you deem
That evil harbours in their souls, at least
