Hild. O Peter, Peter, this would break my heart
Were I but human.
Pet. Send her away. Thou canst do her no good,
The child is dead, and she hath lost her reason.
Much must be suffered here that good may come.
Send her away.
Hild. Nay, Peter, I have worked full o’er enough
For Holy Church, this much God asked of me,
He did not make me butcher to my child.