For whosoever Maketh himself a King, speaks against Caesar.
PILATE.
Ye Jews, behold your King! CHIEF PRIESTS.
Away with him! Crucify him! PILATE.
Shall I crucify your King?
CHIEF PRIESTS.
We have no King but Caesar! PILATE.
Take him, then, Take him, ye cruel and bloodthirsty priests, More merciless than the plebeian mob, Who pity and spare the fainting gladiator Blood-stained in Roman amphitheatres,-- Take him, and crucify him if ye will; But if the immortal Gods do ever mingle With the affairs of mortals, which I doubt not, And hold the attribute of justice dear, They will commission the Eumenides To scatter you to the four winds of heaven, Exacting tear for tear, and blood for blood.
Here, take ye this inscription, Priests, and nail it Upon the cross, above your victim's head: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.
CHIEF PRIESTS.
Nay, we entreat! write not, the King of the Jews! But that he said: I am the King of the Jews! PILATE.
Enough.

What I have written, I have written.
IX ACELDAMA JUDAS ISCARIOT.
Lost! Lost! Forever lost! I have betrayed The innocent blood! O God! if thou art love, Why didst thou leave me naked to the tempter?
Why didst thou not commission thy swift lightning To strike me dead?
or why did I not perish With those by Herod slain, the innocent children, Who went with playthings in their little hands Into the darkness of the other world, As if to bed?
Or wherefore was I born, If thou in thy foreknowledge didst perceive All that I am, and all that I must be?
I know I am not generous, am not gentle, Like other men; but I have tried to be, And I have failed.

I thought by following him I should grow like him; but the unclean spirit That from my childhood up hath tortured me Hath been too cunning and too strong for me, Am I to blame for this?
Am I to blame Because I cannot love, and ne'er have known The love of woman or the love of children?
It is a curse and a fatality, A mark that hath been set upon my forehead, That none shall slay me, for it were a mercy That I were dead, or never had been born.
Too late! too late! I shall not see Him more Among the living.

That sweet, patient face Will never more rebuke me, nor those lips Repeat the words: One of you shall betray me! It stung me into madness.

How I loved, Yet hated Him: But in the other world! I will be there before Him, and will wait Until he comes, and fall down on my knees And kiss his feet, imploring pardon, pardon! I heard Him say: All sins shall be forgiven, Except the sin against the Holy Ghost.
That shall not be forgiven in this world, Nor in the world to come.