Were as heaven’s air, the vital element
Wherein they breathed, may wake, and find their souls
Made marks for human scorn! Will they bear on
With life struck down, and thus disrobed of all
Its glorious drapery? Who shall tell us this?
—Will he so bear it?
Xim. Mother! let us kneel
And blend our hearts in prayer! What else is left
To mortals when the dark hour’s might is on them?
—Leave us, Theresa.—Grief like this doth find