And now, in your madness, you've burnt them--burnt a king's ransom, or what might have pulled down a king.

Oh! had you but guessed it, you'd have hacked off the hand that put a torch to Cranwell Towers, for now the gold you need is lacking to you, and therefore all your grand schemes will fail, and you'll be buried in their ruin, as you thought we were in Cranwell." The Abbot, who had listened to this long and bitter speech in patience, groaned again.
"You are a clever woman," he said; "we understand each other, coming from the same blood.

You know the case; what is your counsel to me now ?" "That which you will not take, being foredoomed for your sins.

Still I'll give it honestly.

Set the Lady Cicely free, restore her lands, confess your evil doings.