MARMADUKE I had fears,
              From which I have freed myself—­but ’tis my wish
              To be alone, and therefore we must part.

OSWALD Nay, then—­I am mistaken.  There’s a weakness
              About you still; you talk of solitude—­
              I am your friend.

MARMADUKE What need of this assurance
              At any time? and why given now?

OSWALD Because
              You are now in truth my Master; you have taught me
              What there is not another living man
              Had strength to teach;—­and therefore gratitude
              Is bold, and would relieve itself by praise.

MARMADUKE Wherefore press this on me?

OSWALD Because I feel
              That you have shown, and by a signal instance,
              How they who would be just must seek the rule
              By diving for it into their own bosoms. 
              To-day you have thrown off a tyranny
              That lives but in the torpid acquiescence
              Of our emasculated souls, the tyranny
              Of the world’s masters, with the musty rules
              By which they uphold their craft from age to age: 
              You have obeyed the only law that sense
              Submits to recognise; the immediate law,
              From the clear light of circumstances, flashed
              Upon an independent Intellect. 
              Henceforth new prospects open on your path;
              Your faculties should grow with the demand;
              I still will be your friend, will cleave to you
              Through good and evil, obloquy and scorn,
              Oft as they dare to follow on your steps.

MARMADUKE I would be left alone.

OSWALD (exultingly)
                                      I know your motives! 
              I am not of the world’s presumptuous judges,
              Who damn where they can neither see nor feel,
              With a hard-hearted ignorance; your struggles
              I witness’d, and now hail your victory.

MARMADUKE Spare me awhile that greeting.

OSWALD It may be,
              That some there are, squeamish half-thinking cowards,
              Who will turn pale upon you, call you murderer,
              And you will walk in solitude among them. 
              A mighty evil for a strong-built mind!—­
              Join twenty tapers of unequal height
              And light them joined, and you will see the less
              How ’twill burn down the taller; and they all
              Shall prey upon the tallest.  Solitude!—­
              The Eagle lives in Solitude!