King.Your late commander! (Coming down.)
Ruth.And I, your little Ruth! (Covering him with pistol.)
Fred.Oh, mad intruders,
How dare ye face me? Know ye not, oh rash ones,
That I have doomed you to extermination?
[King and Ruth hold a pistol to each ear.
King.Have mercy on us, hear us, ere you slaughter.
Fred.I do not think I ought to listen to you.
Yet, mercy should alloy our stern resentment,
And so I will be merciful—say on.