ENDICOTT.
'T is well.
You've done your duty, though you've done it roughly,
And every word you've uttered since you came
Has stabbed me to the heart!
MERRY.
I do beseech
Your Worship's pardon!
ENDICOTT.
He whom I have nurtured
And brought up in the reverence of the Lord!
The child of all my hopes and my affections!
He upon whom I leaned as a sure staff
For my old age! It is God's chastisement
For leaning upon any arm but His!
MERRY. Your Worship!—
ENDICOTT.
And this comes from holding parley
With the delusions and deceits of Satan.
At once, forever, must they be crushed out,
Or all the land will reek with heresy!
Pray, have you any children?
MERRY.
No, not any.
ENDICOTT. Thank God for that. He has delivered you From a great care. Enough; my private griefs Too long have kept me from the public service.
Exit MERRY, ENDICOTT seats himself at the table and arranges his papers.
The hour has come; and I am eager now To sit in judgment on these Heretics.
A knock.