They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
Where are the murderers? are they fled?
I'm dying - 'tis a soon - told tale, And sooner done the deed. Why, women,
do ye howl and wail? To my last words give heed! (All gather round him.) My
Gretchen see! still young art thou, Art not discreet enough, I trow, Thou dost
thy matters ill; Let this in confidence be said: Since thou the path of shame
dost tread, Tread it with right good will!
My brother! God! what can this mean?