Was Adam's fault,—great grandsire, I forgive thee;
Eden was lost, as all thy sons would lose it.
[Going towards Emm. and pulling off his Gauntlet.
Enter Philidel running.
Phil. Hold, poor deluded mortal, hold thy hand,
Which, if thou giv'st, is plighted to a fiend.
For proof, behold the virtue of this wand;
The infernal paint shall vanish from her face,
And hell shall stand revealed.
Strikes Emmeline with a Wand, who straight descends: Philidel runs to the Descent, and pulls up Grimbald and binds him.