MONK. I can but say What the just Spirit prompts. Myself am naught To pardon or condemn. The sin is sinned; The fruit forbid is tasted, yea, and pressed Of its last honeyed juices. Wilt thou now Escape the after-bitterness with prayers, Scourgings, and wringings of the hands? Shall these Undo what has been done?--make whole the heart Thy crime hath snapt in twain?--restore the wits Thy sin hath scattered? No! Thy punishment Is huge as thine offence. Death shall not help, Neither shall pious life wash out the stain. Living thou'rt doomed, and dead, thou shalt be lost, Beyond salvation. MARIA (springing to her feet). Impious priest, thou liest! God will have mercy--as my father would, Could he but see me in mine agony! [The MONK throws back his cowl and discovers himself as the SPAGNOLETTO. MARIA utters a piercing cry and throws herself speechless at his feet.] RIBERA. Thou know'st me not. I am not what I was. My outward shape remains unchanged; these eyes, Now gloating on thine anguish, are the same That wept to see a shadow cross thy brow; These ears, that drink the music of thy groans, Shrank from thy lightest sigh of melancholy. Thou think'st to find the father in me still? Thy parricidal hands have murdered him-- Thou shalt not find a man. I am the spirit Of blind revenge--a brute, unswerving force. What deemest thou hath bound me unto life? Ambition, pleasure, or the sense of fear? What, but the sure hope of this fierce, glad hour, That I might track thee down to this--might see Thy tortured body writhe beneath my feet, And blast thy stricken spirit with my curse? MARIA (in a crushed voice). Have mercy! mercy! RIBERA. Yes, I will have mercy-- The mercy of the tiger or the wolf, Athirst for blood. MARIA (terror-struck, rises upon her knees in an attitude of supplication. RIBERA averts his face). Oh, father, kill me not! Turn not away--I am not changed for thee! In God's name, look at me--thy child, thine own! Spare me, oh, spare me, till I win of Heaven Some sign of promise! I am lost forever If I die now.