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Rh

Accept the last words of my earthly lips: High hallelujah to thy holy name! Have I done well, my friend?—this is a death More worthy of a Roman. I made a vow in secret to my heart, That thou shouldst ne'er be made a mangled sight For gazing crowds and Nero's ruthless eye.

That dying look, which almost smiles upon thee, Says that thou hast done well; though words no more May pass from these closed lips, whose last, bless'd utterance Was the soul's purest and sublimest impulse. [The Curtain drops.