Even those spectators that were so inclined,

Go home changed men. And, for traducing such

That are above us, publishing to the world

Their secret crimes, we are as innocent

As such as are born dumb. When we present

An heir that does conspire against the life

Of his dear parent, numbering every hour

He lives as tedious to him, if there be

Among the auditors one whose conscience tells him

He is of the same mould,—WE CANNOT HELP IT.