In the fourth scene the prophet addresses the Most High, and cries: “Who can endure these offences, these pretences of Vanity and displays of Idolatry? Who will end so great an evil?” “I will,” answers Death, who enters, wearing a sword and dagger, and dressed symbolically in a cloak covered with figures of skeletons. DANIEL. “Awful shape, to whom I bow Through the shadowy glooms that screen thee, Never until now I’ve seen thee: Fearful phantom, who art thou?” Death’s answer in the following monologue is most impressive and beautiful. Our space, unfortunately, will let us quote but a part: “Daniel, thou Prophet of the God of Truth, I am the end of all who life begin, The drop of venom in the serpent’s tooth, The cruel child of envy and of sin. Abel first showed the world’s dark door uncouth, But Cain threw wide the door, and let me in; Since then I’ve darkened o’er life’s checker’d path, The dread avenger of Jehovah’s wrath. … The proudest palace that supremely stands, ’Gainst which the wildest winds in vain may beat; The strongest wall, that like a rock withstands The shock of shells, the furious fire-ball’s heat-- All are but easy triumphs of my hands, All are but humble spoils beneath my feet; If against _me_ no palace-wall is proof, Ah! what can save the lowly cottage-roof? Beauty, nor power, nor genius, can survive, Naught can resist my voice when I sweep by; For whatsoever has been let to live, It is my destined duty to see die. With all the stern commands that thou mayst give, I am, God’s Judgment, ready to comply; Yea, and so quickly shall my service run That ere the word is said the deed is done!” Death then recounts some of his past achievements to prove his readiness to inflict punishment on the king. Daniel, however, expressly forbids him to kill Baltassar, and gives him leave only to awaken him to a sense of coming woe and the fact that he is mortal. This Death does by appearing to the king and showing him a small book lost by him some time before (_i.e._, the remembrance of his mortality, which he had forgotten), in which is written his debt to Death. He leaves the terror-stricken monarch with an admonition to remember his obligation. Thought, hovering between Vanity and Idolatry, soon, however, effaces the impression left by the terrible visitor. The king and Thought, lulled by their combined flatteries, fall asleep, while Death enters and delivers the following monologue, which, as Mr. MacCarthy truly says, “belongs unquestionably to the deepest and most beautiful poetry that has ever flown from the pen of Calderon”: