with iridescent glow!
Dost thou remember?
Behold her now the mother of thy babe,

_The image of Hester changes. She holds their babe in her arms._

Whose pretty wiles would win hard Moloch's heart;
Make him forget his rites, and turn man-nurse.
O, fool! I would renounce my war with Heaven,
Eat up my pains in one most bitter mouthful,
And sue for pardon from God's hated Throne,
If such an offspring might but call me father!
Where is thy manly pride?
But, now, behold her shamed, bearing the badge

_Hester's image wears Scarlet Letter "A."_

Of thy foul infamy. Tear wide thy shirt,
For as thou look'st on her I will impress
Upon thy breast a stigma worse than hers.
Aye, fall upon thy knees to worship her
The Lady of the Scarlet Letter.
Yet while thou kneel'st thy flesh doth glow and burn

_Scarlet Letter "A" glows on Dimsdell's breast._

With all the deep red heraldry befits
A coward lust: the latter "A" in gules
Upon thy sable heart. There let it gnaw
Forever and forever!

_Hester vanishes. Satan fades. No light, save "A" on Dimsdell's breast._

And, now I go, I put this curse upon thee:
Be coward still, wear outwardly the garb
Of righteousness, shake in thy pious shoes,
Cover the stigma on thy breast from eyes
Of flesh, and be a hypocrite, till death
Relieves the world of thee. We'll meet again.

[_Lightning. Exit Satan. Dimsdell lies in trance.
Night. No sound, no light._

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The garden of Governor Bellingham. ROGER PRYNNE, called
Chillingworth, alone._

_Roger._ The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keeps
The cover warily; and, now the scent
Is cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's pack
Bay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him.

_Enter DIGGORY._

_Diggory._ Doctor, the Governor will join you presently.

_Roger._ Diggory, I will await him patiently. [_Sits._

_Diggory retires, then returns._

_Diggory._ Doctor, may I beg a word with you?

_Roger._ A thousand if you will.

_Diggory._ I would speak in confidence.

_Roger._ The manner would become thee, Diggory.
But speak, man! Say on.

_Diggory._ I need a philter, Doctor. For the love of mercy--

_Roger._ For the love of good liquor, Diggory, thou shalt have
twenty filters. Still decanting?

_Diggory._ O, sir! not that kind of filter. I'm in love!

_Roger._ Ah! th