CHRISTUS.
It is enough.
IV
THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE
CHRISTUS. My spirit is exceeding sorrowful Even unto death! Tarry ye here and watch.
He goes apart.
PETER. Under this ancient olive-tree, that spreads Its broad centennial branches like a tent, Let us lie down and rest.
JOHN.
What are those torches,
That glimmer on Brook Kedron there below us?
JAMES. It is some marriage feast; the joyful maidens Go out to meet the bridegroom.
PETER.
I am weary.
The struggles of this day have overcome me.
They sleep.