Saul. The battle on the morrow——
Samuel. Evil thou art
For underneath this night thou hast conspired
Death to thy daughter Michal—if at dawn
The battle shall be lost—lest she may fall
Into the hands of David——
David (in horror). O!
Ishui. Whose cry?
Samuel. I tell thee, Saul, thy sceptre shrivels fast.
The battle shall be lost—it shall be lost.
(The Spirit of Samuel disappears. A wail of wind.)
Adriel. Ishui, true? Is Michal to be slain?
Ishui. This is no hour for fools and questioning.
Saul (struggling up). The battle, Ishui, at once command
It shall begin! To Jonathan and say it.
(Ishui goes.)