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I've done a deed—But I am human still.

Jane. I know thy suff'rings: leave thy sorrow free: Thou art with one who never did upbraid; Who mourns, who loves thee still.

De Mon. Ah! say'st thou so? no, no; it should not be. (Shrinking from her.) I am a foul and bloody murderer, For such embrace unmeet. O leave me! leave me! Disgrace and publick shame abide me now; And all, alas! who do my kindred own The direful portion share.—Away, away! Shall a disgrac'd and publick criminal Degrade thy name, and claim affinity To noble worth like thine?—I have no name— I am nothing, now, not e'en to thee; depart.

Jane. De Monfort, hand in hand we have enjoy'd The playful term of infancy together; And in the rougher path of ripen'd years We've been each other's stay. Dark lowers our fate, And terrible the storm that gathers over us; But nothing, till that latest agony Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house; In the terrifick face of armed law; Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be, I never will forsake thee.