Wer.

How know you that? Gab. You're right: I ask for shelter at the hand Which I call helpless; if you now deny it,

I were well paid. But you, who seem to have proved
The wholesome bitterness of life, know well,
By sympathy, that all the outspread gold

Of the new world the Spaniard boasts about,
Could never tempt the man who knows its worth,
Weigh'd at its proper value in the balance,
Save in such guise (and there I grant its power,
Because I feel it,) as may leave no nightmare
Upon his heart o' nights.

Wer.

Gab. That I know by long practice. Will you not Promise to make mine less?

Wer.

Your poverty?

Gab. No-you don't look a leech for that disorder; I meant my peril only: you've a roof,

And I have none; I merely seek a covert.

Wer. Rightly; for how should such a wretch as I Have gold?

Gab.

Scarce honestly, to say the truth on 't, Although I almost wish you had the baron's.

Wer. Dare you insinuate?

Gab.

Wer.

To whom you speak?

Gab.

What?

Are you aware

No; and I am not used

Greatly to care. (A noise heard without.) But hark!

Wer.

they come !

Who come?

Gab. The intendant and his man-hounds after me: I'd face them but it were in vain to expect Justice at hands like theirs. Where shall I go? But show me any place. I do assure you, If there be faith in man, I am most guiltless: Think if it were your own case!

Gab.

I'll in-farewell!

[GABOR goes in by the secret panel.

Wer. (solus). What have I done? Alas! what had
I done

Before to make this fearful? Let it be
Still some atonement that I save the man,
Whose sacrifice had saved perhaps my own—
They come to seek clsewhere what is before them!

Enter IDENSTEIN and Others.

Iden. Is he not here? He must have vanish'd then
Through the dim Gothic glass by pious aid
Of pictured saints upon the red and yellow [sunrise
Casements, through which the sunset streams like
On long pearl-colour'd beards and crimson crosses,
And gilded crosiers, and cross'd arms, and cowls,
And helms, and twisted armour, and long swords,
All the fantastic furniture of windows

Dim with brave knights and holy hermits, whose
Likeness and fame alike rest in some panes
Of crystal, which each rattling wind proclaims
As frail as any other life or glory.
He's gone, however.

A maze hath my dim destiny involved me!
And one base sin hath done me less ill than
The leaving undone one far greater. Down,
Thou busy devil, rising in my heart!

Thou art too late! I'll nought to do with blood.
Enter ULRIC.

Ulr. I sought you, father.
Wer.

Is't not dangerous?
Ulr. No; Stralenheim is ignorant of all
Or any of the ties between us: more-
He sends me here a spy upon your actions,
Deeming me wholly his.

Wer. I cannot think it: 'Tis but a snare he winds about us both, To swoop the sire and son at once. Ulr. I cannot Pause in each petty fear, and stumble at The doubts that rise like briers in our path, But must break through them, as an unarm'd carle Would, though with naked limbs, were the wolf

Wer.

Whom do you seek?

Wer.

You mean to pursue it, as

In the search

'Tis of our safety.

Are you sure

As sure as you

Who?
He we sought.

I see the subject now more clearly, and

Our general situation in its bearings.

The waters are abating; a few hours

Will bring his summon'd myrmidons from Frankfort,
When you will be a prisoner, perhaps worse,
And I an outcast, bastardised by practice
Of this same baron to make way for him.

Wer. And now your remedy! I thought to escape
By means of this accursed gold; but now
I dare not use it, show it, scarce look on it.
Methinks it wears upon its face my guilt
For motto, not the mintage of the state;

[in them

Ulr. Hush! hush! no transports: we'll indulge In Castle Siegendorf! Display no gold: Show Idenstein the gem (I know the man, And have look'd through him): it will answer thus A double purpose. Stralenheim lost goldNo jewel therefore it could not be his; And then the man who was possest of this Can hardly be suspected of abstracting The baron's coin, when he could thus convert This ring to more than Stralenheim has lost By his last night's slumber. Be not over timid In your address, nor yet too arrogant, And Idenstein will serve you.

Wer.

In all things your direction.

Ulr.

I will follow

I would have

And I embrace it, as I did my son,
Who show'd himself and father's safety in
One day.
Ulr.

You shall be safe; let that suffice. Would Stralenheim's appearance in Bohemia Disturb your right, or mine, if once we were Admitted to our lands?

That may be

but get ye ready;

And should, perhaps—and yet -
You and my mother must away to-night.
Here comes the intendant: sound him with the gem;
'T will sink into his venal soul like lead

Into the deep, and bring up slime and mud,
And ooze too, from the bottom, as the lead doth
With its greased understratum; but no less
Will serve to warn our vessels through these shoals.
The freight is rich, so heave the line in time!
Farewell! I scarce have time, but yet your hand,
My father!

Observed subdue your nature to the hour!
Keep off from me as from your foe!
Wer.

Accursed

Be he who is the stifling cause which smothers
The best and sweetest feeling of our hearts;
At such an hour too!
Ulr.

I know not that; but at

Yes, curse-it will ease you!

Here is the intendant.

My boy!

Enter IDENSTEIN.

Oh, do not hate me !

Master Idenstein,

Ulr.

Hate my father!

How fare you in your purpose? The rogue?

Have you caught

My father hated me.

Scorpions

Why not my son ?
Ulr. Your father knew you not as I do.
Wer.

Are in thy words! Thou know me? in this guise
Thou canst not know me, I am not myself;
Yet (hate me not) I will be soon.

Ulr.

I'll wait!

In the mean time be sure that all a son Can do for parents shall be done for mine.

Iden.

No, faith!

Ulr.

Well, there are plenty more:

Iden.

Gone back to his chamber:

Call me Werner still;

You may yet know me by a loftier title.
Iden. I do believe in thee! thou art the spirit
Of whom I long have dream'd in a low garb. —
But come, I'll serve thee; thou shalt be as free
As air, despite the waters; let us hence:
I'll show thee I am honest-(oh, thou jewel!)
Thou shalt be furnish'd, Werner, with such means
Of flight, that if thou wert a snail, not birds
Should overtake thee. Let me gaze again!
I have a foster brother in the mart
Of Hamburgh skill'd in precious stones.
Carats may it weigh?
thee.

How many

Come, Werner, I will wing [Exeunt.

The inspection of myself and the young Saxon
Who saved your life. I think they call him "Ulric."
Stral. You think! you supercilious slave! what right
Have you to tax your memory, which should be
Quick, proud, and happy to retain the name
Of him who saved your master, as a litany
Whose daily repetition marks your duty. -
Get hence! "You think," indeed! you who stood still
Howling and drippling on the bank, whilst I
Lay dying, and the stranger dash'd aside
The roaring torrent, and restored me to
Thank him -
and despise you. "You think!" and
Can recollect his name! I will not waste
More words on you. Call me betimes.

Fritz.

[scarce

Good night!

I trust to-morrow will restore your lordship To renovated strength and temper.

[The scene closes.

Five-six hours have I counted, like the guard
Of out-posts on the never-merry clock :
That hollow tongue of time, which, even when
It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment
With every clang. "T is a perpetual knell,
Though for a marriage feast it rings: each stroke
Peals for a hope the less; the funeral note
Of Love deep-buried without resurrection
In the grave of Possession; while the knoll
Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo
To triple Time in the son's ear.

Wer. I could not sleep—and now the hour's at hand; All's ready. Idenstein has kept his word; And station'd in the outskirts of the town, Upon the forest's edge, the vehicle Awaits us. Now the dwindling stars begin To pale in heaven; and for the last time I Look on these horrible walls. Oh! never, never Shall I forget them. Here I came most poor, But not dishonour'd: and I leave them with A stain, if not upon my name, yet in My heart!a never-dying canker-worm, Which all the coming splendour of the lands, And rights, and sovereignty of Siegendorf Can scarcely lull a moment. I must find

Some means of restitution, which would ease
My soul in part; but how without discovery ? —
It must be done, however; and I'll pause
Upon the method the first hour of safety.
The madness of my misery led to this
Base infamy; repentance must retrieve it:
I will have nought of Stralenheim's upon
My spirit, though he would grasp all of mine;
Lands, freedom, life, and yet he sleeps as soundly,
Perhaps, as infancy, with gorgeous curtains
Spread for his canopy, o'er silken pillows,

Such as when ——— Hark! what noise is that? Again !
The branches shake; and some loose stones have fallen
From yonder terrace.

[ULRIC leaps down from the terrace. Ulric ever welcome!

Wer. Answer? Ulr.

To what must I

Are you or are you not the assassin

The murderer of any man. What mean you?

Ulr. Did not you this night (as the night before) Retrace the secret passage? Did you not

Again revisit Stralenheim's chamber? and

Wer. Proceed.
Ulr.
Wer.

[ULRIC pauses.

Died he not by your hand?

Great God ! Ulr. You are innocent, then! my father's innocent ! Embrace me! Yes, your tone—your look—yes, yes,

Yet say so.
Wer. If I c'er, in heart or mind,
Conceived deliberately such a thought,
But rather strove to trample back to hell
Such thoughts-if e'er they glared a moment through
The irritation of my oppressed spirit-

May heaven be shut for ever from my hopes

As from mine eyes!

Wer. 'Tis horrible! 'tis hideous, as 't is hateful!But what have I to do with this?

Ulr.
No bolt
Is forced; no violence can be detected,
Save on his body. Part of his own household
Have been alarm'd; but as the intendant is
Absent, I took upon myself the care

Of mustering the police. His chamber has,
Past doubt, been enter'd secretly. Excuse me,