MARMADUKE ’Twas dark—­dark as the grave; yet did I see,
              Saw him—­his face turned toward me; and I tell thee
              Idonea’s filial countenance was there
              To baffle me—­it put me to my prayers. 
              Upwards I cast my eyes, and, through a crevice,
              Beheld a star twinkling above my head,
              And, by the living God, I could not do it.
       [Sinks exhausted.]

OSWALD (to himself)
              Now may I perish if this turn do more
              Than make me change my course. 
       (To MARMADUKE.) Dear Marmaduke,
              My words were rashly spoken; I recal them: 
              I feel my error; shedding human blood
              Is a most serious thing.

MARMADUKE Not I alone,
              Thou too art deep in guilt.

OSWALD We have indeed
              Been most presumptuous.  There is guilt in this,
              Else could so strong a mind have ever known
              These trepidations?  Plain it is that Heaven
              Has marked out this foul Wretch as one whose crimes
              Must never come before a mortal judgment-seat,
              Or be chastised by mortal instruments.

MARMADUKE
              A thought that’s worth a thousand worlds!

[Goes towards the dungeon.]

OSWALD I grieve
              That, in my zeal, I have caused you so much pain.

MARMADUKE Think not of that! ’tis over—­we are safe.

OSWALD (as if to himself, yet speaking aloud)
              The truth is hideous, but how stifle it?
     [Turning to MARMADUKE.]
              Give me your sword—­nay, here are stones and fragments,
              The least of which would beat out a man’s brains;
              Or you might drive your head against that wall. 
              No! this is not the place to hear the tale: 
              It should be told you pinioned in your bed,
              Or on some vast and solitary plain
              Blown to you from a trumpet.

MARMADUKE Why talk thus? 
              Whate’er the monster brooding in your breast
              I care not:  fear I have none, and cannot fear—­
         [The sound of a horn is heard.]
              That horn again—­’Tis some one of our Troop;
              What do they here?  Listen!

OSWALD What! dogged like thieves!

[Enter WALLACE and LACY, etc.]

LACY You are found at last, thanks to the vagrant Troop
              For not misleading us.

OSWALD (looking at WALLACE)
                                     That subtle Greybeard—­
              I’d rather see my father’s ghost.