alms,
And every mass no less sung for the dead.
Our House needs no donations, thanks to yours,
Which has of old endowed it; but from you
And yours in all meet things 'tis fit we obey.
For whom shall mass be said?

_Sieg._ (_faltering_). For--for--the dead.

_Prior_. His name?

_Sieg._ 'Tis from a soul, and not a name,
I would avert perdition.

_Prior_. I meant not
To pry into your secret. We will pray
For one unknown, the same as for the proudest. 480

_Sieg._ Secret! I have none: but, father, he who's gone
Might _have_ one; or, in short, he did bequeath--
No, not bequeath--but I bestow this sum
For pious purposes.

_Prior_. A proper deed
In the behalf of our departed friends.

_Sieg._ But he who's gone was not my friend, but foe,
The deadliest and the stanchest.

_Prior_. Better still!
To employ our means to obtain Heaven for the souls
Of our dead enemies is worthy those
Who can forgive them living.

_Sieg._ But I did not 490
Forgive this man. I loathed him to the last,
As he did me. I do not love him now,
But----

_Prior_. Best of all! for this is pure religion!
You fain would rescue him you hate from hell--
An evangelical compassion--with
Your own gold too!

_Sieg._ Father, 'tis not my gold.

_Prior_. Whose, then? You said it was no legacy.

_Sieg._ No matter whose--of this be sure, that he
Who owned it never more will need it, save
In that which it may purchase from your altars: 500
'Tis yours, or theirs.

_Prior_. Is there no blood upon it?

_Sieg._ No; but there's worse than blood--eternal shame!

_Prior_. Did he who owned it die in his _bed?_

_Sieg._ Alas!
He did.

_Prior_. Son! you relapse into revenge,
If you regret your enemy's bloodless death.

_Sieg._ His death was fathomlessly deep in blood.

_Prior_. You said he died in his bed, not battle.

_Sieg._ He
Died, I scarce know--but--he was stabbed i' the dark,
And now you have it--perished on his pillow
By a cut-throat!--Aye!--you may look upon me! 510