BUTLER.
There is no need of my arm.
GORDON.
The most guilty
Have perished, and enough is given to justice.
[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER advances from the gallery with his finger
on his mouth commanding silence.
GORDON.
He sleeps! Oh, murder not the holy sleep!
BUTLER.
No! he shall die awake.
[Is going.
GORDON.
His heart still cleaves
To earthly things: he's not prepared to step
Into the presence of his God!
BUTLER (going).
God's merciful!
GORDON (holds him).
Grant him but this night's respite.
BUTLER (hurrying of).
The next moment
May ruin all.
GORDON (holds him still).
One hour!