FURST.
I who need comfort—can I comfort her?
Does every sorrow centre on my head?
HEDW. (forcing her way in).
Where is my child? unhand me! I must see him.
STAUFF.
Be calm! Reflect, you're in the house of death!
HEDW. (falling upon her boy's neck).
My Walter! Oh, he yet is mine!
WALT.
Dear mother!
HEDW.
And is it surely so? Art thou unhurt?
[Gazing at him with anxious tenderness.]
And is it possible he aim'd at thee?
How could he do it? Oh, he has no heart—
And he could wing an arrow at his child!
FURST.
His soul was rack'd with anguish when he did it.
No choice was left him, but to shoot or die!
HEDW.
Oh, if he had a father's heart, he would
Have sooner perish'd by a thousand deaths!