What you intend is murder. There is no other name for it.
The path you tread is right well worn. It leads to a bitter and lonely end.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
-What sins have you committed, my son?
I have plotted murder. The murder of the King.
-I will hear no more.
This is my confession. The King. His son, the Prince. His wife, the Queen. His Councillors and his parliament, I will blow them all to hell.
-Enough! I see pride in you. Do you repent?
-Then there can be no absolution.
If Catesby and his friends are not stopped, Cecil will arrest innocent Catholics all over the land. He will tear them limb from limb. You alone have the power to save thousands of innocents from such a terrible and dreadful end.
I am not lost. I do God's work now. For the first time in my life my purpose is clear and my heart is full for it.