“I have no thirst for blood; nor yet would shrink
From shortening earthly life: for what is life
That we should court its stay? A pearl of price
In festal days, but mockery to mourners.
What’s life to thee, thy loved one dead, poor Jane?
What’s life to me, by him I loved betrayed?
I take from thee what is no loss to thee
And much infects the realm. Gladly would I
My life on such conditions sacrifice.
The time for thy short widowhood is come: