_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,-- 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. 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! [_VELEZ is at the altar. OSORIO remains near him in a state of stupor._ _Osorio (rousing himself)._ Where am I? 'Twas a lazy chilliness. 120 _Velez (takes and conceals the picture in his robe)._ This way, my son! She must not see this picture. Go, call the attendants! Life will soon ebb back! [_VELEZ and OSORIO leave the stage._ _Albert._ Her pulse doth flutter. Maria! my Maria! _Maria (recovering--looks round)._ I heard a voice--but often in my dreams, I hear that voice, and wake; and try, and try, 125 To hear it waking--but I never could! And 'tis so now--even so! Well, he is dead, Murder'd perhaps! and I am faint, and feel As if it were no painful thing to die! _Albert (eagerly)._ Believe it not, sweet maid! believe it not, 130 Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture Framed by a guilty wretch. _Maria._ Ha! who art thou? _Albert (exceedingly agitated)._ My heart bursts over thee!