And which, now silenced ever, evermore, Accuses me of guarding her so ill. ESTHER. Go not, O Sire! Now that the deed is done, Let it be done. The mourning be for us! Estrange thyself not from thy people, Sire. KING. Think'st thou? The King I am--thou know'st full well. She suffered outrage, but myself no less. Justice, and punishment of ev'ry wrong I swore upon my coronation day, And I will keep my oath until the death. To do this, I must make me strong and hard, For to my anger they will sure oppose All that the human breast holds high and dear-- Mem'ries from out my boyhood's early days, My manhood's first sweet taste of woman's love, Friendship and gratitude and mercy, too; My whole life, roughly bundled into one, Will stand, as 'twere against me, fully armed, And challenge me to combat with myself. I, therefore, from myself must first take leave. Her image, as I see it here and there, On every wall, in this and every corner Shows her to me but in her early bloom, With all her weaknesses, with all her charm. I'll see her now, mistreated, wounded, torn; Will lose myself in horror at the sight, Compare each bloody mark upon her form With this, her image, here upon my breast. And learn to deal with monsters, like to like. (_As ESTHER has risen._) Speak not a word to me! I will! This torch Shall, like myself, inflamed, illume the way; Gleaming, because destructive and destroyed. She is in yonder last and inmost room, Where I so oft-- ESTHER. She was, and there remains. KING (_has seized the torch_). Methinks 'tis blood I see upon my way. It is the way to blood. O fearful night! [_He goes out at the side door to the left._] ISAAC. We're in the dark. ESTHER. Yes, dark is round about, And round about the horror's horrid night. But daylight comes apace. So let me try If I can thither bear my weary limbs. [_She goes to the window, and draws the curtain._] The day already dawns, its pallid gleam Shudders to see the terrors wrought this night-- The difference 'twixt yesterday and now. (_Pointing to the scattered jewels on the floor._) There, there it lies, our fortune's scattered ruin-- The tawdry baubles, for the sake of which We, we--not he who takes the blame--but we A sister sacrificed, thy foolish child! Yea, all that comes is right. Whoe'er complains, Accuses his own folly and himself.