of reputation through my cowardice,
And--puh! the rest but follow in the train
Of my dear wedded crime!
O, God! and shall this lust burn on in me
Still unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting,
Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soul
From its fond doting on her comeliness?
Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jump
My middle age and plunge this burning heart
Into the icy flood of cold decay?
None? O, wretched state of luxury!
This hot desire grows even in its death
And from its ashes doth arise full fledged
Renewed eternally!

_A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder,
discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also shows SATAN--an
archangel with bat wings--who has just entered._

Have mercy upon me, O, my God, have mercy!
According to thy gentle lovingkindness,
According to the multitude of all
Thy tender mercies, blot out my foul transgression.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow;
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out
All mine iniquities.

_Satan._ You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omit
The saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed.

_Dimsdell._ Who art thou that durst interpose between
My soul and God?

_Satan._ I am the stronger part of lower nature,
The worser part of all that came from Him
Whom all adore. Behold me!

_Satan becomes visible by light emanating from himself._

_Dimsdell._ Thou art Satan! The Prince of Hell!

_Satan._ I am so called.

_Dimsdell._ Get thee hence! I am a minister
Of God, a priest, and am anointed of the Lord
To teach His children.

_Satan._ And, therefore, am I come to thee, Sir priest.
I do confess a predilection for
Thy calling; conclaves, synods, convocations,
Are never held without my guiding presence;
They are my field days and my exercises,
While in the study and the cell I take
My cloistered ease. I love all priests and am
The bosom friend of many who would blush
To speak to me in public. Receive me, brother.

_Dimsdell._ Scorner, avaunt! Sink to the hell from whence
Thou cam'st! I do abhor thee, Satan; yea,
I tell thee to thy face that I who quail
Before the awful majesty of God,
And cowardly do hide my sin from man,
I tell thee, vile as I am, I do detest
Thy very name! I do defy thee!

_Satan._ These words are very brave; if more than wind,
Go to the market place tomorrow, there