By the fond mother as she lulls her babe?
Or in sweet hymns, upon the twilight air
Pour’d by the timid maid? Must all alike
Be still’d in death? and wouldst thou tell my heart
There is no crime in this?
Pro. Since thou dost feel
Such horror of our purpose, in thy power
Are means that might avert it.
Raim. Speak! oh speak!
Pro. How would those rescued thousands bless thy name