Weep not, my friends! rather rejoice with me. I shall not feel the pain, but shall be gone, And you will have another friend in heaven. Then start not at the creaking of the door Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it. (_To_ PRINCE HENRY.) And you, O Prince! bear back my benison Unto my father's house, and all within it. This morning in the church I prayed for them, After confession, after absolution, When my whole soul was white, I prayed for them. God will take care of them, they need me not. And in your life let my remembrance linger, As something not to trouble or disturb it, But to complete it, adding life to life. And if at times beside the evening fire You see my face among the other faces, Let it not be regarded as a ghost That haunts your house, but as a guest that loves you. Nay, even as one of your own family, Without whose presence there were something wanting. I have no more to say. Let us go in. PRINCE HENRY. Friar Angelo! I charge you on your life, Believe not what she says, for she is mad, And comes not here to die, but to be healed. ELSIE. Alas! Prince Henry! LUCIFER. Come with me; this way. (ELSIE _goes in with_ LUCIFER, _who thrusts_ PRINCE HENRY _back and closes the door_.)" There is, however, happily no occasion for the expenditure of our tears. Prince Henry plucks up heart of grace, bursts open the door, and rescues Elsie just as she is on the point of submitting to the Luciferian lancet. The pair return in triumph to the Rhine--the hearts of the old people are made glad by the recovery of their daughter--and the drama ends, not with horror, but with the agreeable finale of a marriage.