The slater's fallen from the roof.
BERTHA (rushing in).
Heavens! Is he dashed to pieces? Save him, help!
If help be possible, save him! Here is gold.
[Throws her trinkets among the people.]
MASON.
Hence with your gold—your universal charm,
And remedy for ill! When you have torn
Fathers from children, husbands from their wives,
And scattered woe and wail throughout the land,
You think with gold to compensate for all.
Hence! Till we saw you, we were happy men;
With you came misery and dark despair.
BERTHA (to the TASKMASTER, who has returned).
Lives he?
[TASKMASTER shakes his head.]
Ill-omened towers, with curses built,
And doomed with curses to be tenanted!