Wherefore are you here? Are you not afraid
To stand beneath the awful midnight sky,
And you a murderer? Leave me.
Rai. I lift up
No murderer’s brow to heaven!
Aym. You dare speak thus!—
Do not the bright stars, with their searching rays,
Strike through your guilty soul? Oh, no!—tis well,
Passing well! Murder! Make the earth’s harvests grow
With Paynim blood!—Heaven wills it! The free air,