Break up earth’s homes, and make a waste like this?
Daughter, Margaret, where hath Gerbhert gone?
Marg. Let me die. But let me die in peace.
Cath. Nay, nay, this shall not be, this hideous law
Must drift aside. Daughter, harken me.
Marg. There is no hope. The Pope hath willed it so.
Cath. Nay, he will hear me, I will make him hear.
I have a secret you have never known,
Nor any in Italy.