No More Learning

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.