Albert (still to Osorio). What if his very virtues
Had pamper'd his swoln heart, and made him proud?
And what if pride had duped him into guilt,
Yet still he stalk'd, a self-created God, [95]
Not very bold, but excellently cunning;
And one that at his mother's looking-glass,
Would force his features to a frowning sternness?
Young lord! I tell thee, that there are such beings,—
[[554]] Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, [100]
To see these most proud men, that loathe mankind,
At every stir and buz of coward conscience,
Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites!
Away! away! Now let me hear more music. [Music as before.

Albert. The spell is mutter'd—come, thou wandering shape, [105]
Who own'st no master in an eye of flesh,
Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it or foul,
If he be dead, come quick, and bring with thee
That which he grasp'd in death; and if he lives,
Some token of his obscure perilous life. [110]
[The whole orchestra crashes into one chorus.

Wandering demon! hear the spell
Lest a blacker charm compel!

[A thunder-clap. The incense on the altar takes fire suddenly.

Maria. This is some trick—I know, it is a trick.
[[555]] Yet my weak fancy, and these bodily creepings,
Would fain give substance to the shadow.[555:1]

Velez (advancing to the altar). Hah! 115
A picture!

Maria. O God! my picture?

Albert (gazing at Maria with wild impatient distressfulness).
Pale—pale—deadly pale!

Maria. He grasp'd it when he died. [She swoons. Albert rushes to her and supports her.

Albert. My love! my wife!
Pale—pale, and cold! My love! my wife! Maria!