The youngest, fairest soul of the twain,
The most ethereal, most divine,
Will escape from my hands forever and ever. 
But the other is already mine! 
Let him live to corrupt his race,
Breathing among them, with every breath,
Weakness, selfishness, and the base
And pusillanimous fear of death. 
I know his nature, and I know
That of all who in my ministry
Wander the great earth to and fro,
And on my errands come and go,
The safest and subtlest are such as he.

(Enter PRINCE HENRY and ELSIE with
attendants.)

Prince Henry. Can you direct us to Friar Angelo?

Lucifer. He stands before you.

Prince Henry. Then you know our purpose.  I am Prince Henry of Hoheneck, and this The maiden that I spake of in my letters.

Lucifer. It is a very grave and solemn business!  We must not be precipitate.  Does she Without compulsion, of her own free will, Consent to this?

Prince Henry. Against all opposition, Against all prayers, entreaties, protestations.  She will not be persuaded.

Lucifer. That is strange!  Have you thought well of it?

Elsie. I come not here To argue, but to die.  Your business is not to question, but to kill me.  I am ready.  I am impatient to be gone from here Ere any thoughts of earth disturb again The spirit of tranquillity within me.

  Prince Henry. Would I had not come here
          Would I were dead,
And thou wert in thy cottage in the forest,
And hadst not known me!  Why have I done this? 
Let me go back and die.

Elsie. It cannot be; Not if these cold, flat stones on which we tread Were coulters heated white, and yonder gateway Flamed like a furnace with a sevenfold heat.  I must fulfil my purpose.

Prince Henry. I forbid it! 
Not one step farther.  For I only meant
To put thus far thy courage to the proof. 
It is enough.  I, too, have courage to die,
For thou hast taught me!

Elsie. O my Prince! remember
Your promises.  Let me fulfill my errand. 
You do not look on life and death as I do. 
There are two angels, that attend unseen
Each one of us, and in great books record
Our good and evil deeds.  He who writes down
The good ones, after every action closes
His volume, and ascends with it to God. 
The other keeps his dreadful day-book open
Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing,
The record of the action fades away,
And leaves a line of white across the page. 
Now if my act be good, as I believe it,
It cannot be recalled.  It is already
Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished. 
The rest is yours.  Why wait you?  I am ready.

          (To her attendants.)

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.