As something not to trouble and disturb it,
But to complete it, adding life to life. 
And if at times beside the evening fire,
You see my face among the other faces,
Let it not be regarded as a ghost
That haunts your house, but as a guest that loves you. 
Nay, even as one of your own family,
Without whose presence there were something wanting. 
I have no more to say.  Let us go in.

PRINCE HENRY. 
Friar Angelo!  I charge you on your life,
Believe not what she says, for she is mad,
And comes here not to die, but to be healed.

ELSIE. 
Alas!  Prince Henry!

LUCIFER. 
             Come with me; this way.

ELSIE goes in with LUCIFER, who thrusts PRINCE HENRY back and closes the door.

PRINCE HENRY. 
Gone! and the light of all my life gone with her! 
A sudden darkness falls upon the world! 
Oh, what a vile and abject thing am I
That purchase length of days at such a cost! 
Not by her death alone, but by the death
Of all that’s good and true and noble in me
All manhood, excellence, and self-respect,
All love, and faith, and hope, and heart are dead! 
All my divine nobility of nature
By this one act is forfeited forever. 
I am a Prince in nothing but in name!

To the attendants. 
Why did you let this horrible deed be done? 
Why did you not lay hold on her, and keep her
From self destruction?  Angelo! murderer!

Struggles at the door, but cannot open it.

ELSIE, within. 
Farewell, dear Prince! farewell!

PRINCE HENRY. 
                      Unbar the door!

LUCIFER. 
It is too late!

PRINCE HENRY. 
          It shall not be too late.

They burst the door open and rush in.

THE FARM-HOUSE IN THE ODENWALD

URSULA spinning.  A summer afternoon.  A table spread.

URSULA. 
I have marked it well,—­it must be true,—­
Death never takes one alone, but two! 
Whenever he enters in at a door,
Under roof of gold or roof of thatch,
He always leaves it upon the latch,
And comes again ere the year is o’er. 
Never one of a household only! 
Perhaps it is a mercy of God,
Lest the dead there under the sod,
In the land of strangers, should be lonely! 
Ah me!  I think I am lonelier here! 
It is hard to go,—­but harder to stay! 
Were it not for the children, I should pray
That Death would take me within the year! 
And Gottlieb!—­he is at work all day,
In the sunny field, or the forest murk,
But I know that his thoughts are far away,
I know that his heart is not in his work! 
And when he comes home to me at night
He is not cheery, but sits and sighs,
And I see the great tears in his eyes,
And try to be cheerful for his sake. 
Only the children’s hearts are light. 
Mine is weary, and ready to break. 
God help us!  I hope we have done right;
We thought we were acting for the best!