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Oh! what a heart had he who did this deed! ''1st Monk. (Looking at the body.)'' How hard those teeth against the lips are press'd, As tho' he struggled still!

Monk. The hands, too, clench'd: the last efforts of nature.

Thom. Know'st thou this gastly face?

De Mon. (Putting his hands before his face in violent perturbation.) Oh do not! do not! veil it from my sight! Put me to any agony but this!

Thom. Ha! dost thou then confess the dreadful deed? Hast thou against the laws of awful heav'n Such horrid murder done? What fiend could tempt thee? (Pauses and looks steadfastly at De Monfort.)

De Mon. I hear thy words but do not hear their sense— Hast thou not cover'd it?

Bern, to Thom. Forbear, my brother, for thou see'st right well He is not in a state to answer thee. Let us retire and leave him for a while. These windows are with iron grated o'er; He cannot 'scape, and other duty calls.

Thom. Then let it be.