I chose the milder way:—perhaps I erred.
Piers. I fear me—by the mass, the unsteady people
Are flocking homewards! how the multitude
Diminishes!
Morceau the Last.
John Ball. Why, be it so. I can smile at your vengeance:
For I am arm’d with rectitude of soul.
The truth, which all my life I have divulg’d,
And am now doom’d in torment to expire for,
Shall still survive—the destin’d hour must come,