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JOSEPHINE.

JOSEPHINE.

Thou knowest not: but still I love thee, nor
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Shall aught divide us.

(WERNER walks on abruptly, and then ap MEN.

proaches JosEPHINE.

The storm of the night,
WERNER.
HENRICK.

Perhaps, affects me: I'm a thing of feelings,
Ulric.
ERIC.

And have of late been sickly, as, alas!
STRALENHEIM, ARNHEIM.
IDENSTEIN,
MEISTER.

Thou know'st by sufferings more than mine, my love!
GABOR.
RODOLPH.
In watching me.

JOSEPHINE.
FRITZ.
LUDWIG.

To see thee well is much
WOMEN.

To see thee happy-
JosephINE.

WERNER.
IDA STRALENHEIM.

Where hast thou seen such ?
Let me be wretched with the rest!

JOSEPHINE,
Srene-partly on the frontier of Silesia, and partly in

But think
Siegendorf Castle, near Prague.

How many in this hour of tempest shiver
Time—the close of the thirty ycars' war. Beneath the biting wind and heavy rain,

Whose every drop bows them down nearer earth,

Which hath no chamber for them save beneath
WERNER.

Her surface.

WERNER.

And that's not the worst : who cares ACT I.

For chambers ? rest is all. The wretches whom

Thou namest-ay, the wind howls round them, and SCENE I.

The dull and dropping rain saps in their bones The Hall of a decayed Palace near a small Town on the The creeping marrow. I have been a soldier, northern Frontier of Silesiathe Night tempestuous.

A hunter, and a traveller, and am

A beggar, and should know the thing thou talk'st of. Werner and JOSEPHINE his wife.

And art thou not now shelter'd from them all ?
My love, be calmer !

Yes—and from these alone.
I am calm.
JOSEPHINE.

And that is something.
To me-
Yes, but not to thyself: thy pace is hurried,
And no one walks a chamber like to ours

True-to a peasant.
With steps like thine when his heart is at rest.
Were it a garden, I should deem thee happy,

Should the nobly born
And stepping with the bee from flower to flower;

Be thankless for that refuge which their habits
or early delicacy render more

Needful than to the peasant, when the ebb
WERNER.

of fortune leaves them on the shoals of life?
'Tis chill; the tapestry lets through
The wind to which it waves: iny blood is frozen.

WERNER.

It is not that, thou know'st it is not: we
Ah, no!

Have borne ali this, I'll not say patiently,
WERNER (smiling).

Except in thee-but we have borne it.
Why! wouldst thou have it so ?

Well !
I would
Hare it a healthful current.

Something beyond our outward sufferings (though

These were enough to gnaw into our souls)
Let it flow

Hath stung me ofi, and, more than ever, now l'nta't is spilt or check’d-how soon, I care not.

When, but for this untoward sickness, which

Seized me upon this desolate frontier, and And an I nothing in thy heart ?

Hath wasted not alone my strength, but means,

And leaves us,-no! this is beyond me! but
All-all.

For this I had been happythou been happy

The splendour of my rank sustain'd—my name Thien canst thou wish for that which must break mine? My father's name—been still upheld; and, more WERNER (upproaching her slowly).

Than thoseBut for thee I liad been-110 matter what,

JOSEPHINE (abruptly). But much of good and evil; what I am,

My son--our son-our Minc, Chou knowest ; what I might or should have been, Been clasp'd again in these long-empty arins.

54

WERNER.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

But here!

JOSEPHINE.

JOSEPHINE.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER

JOSEPHINE.

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WERXER.

JOSEPHINE.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

a

JOSEPHINE.

You

And all a mother's hunger satisfied.

By the snares of this avaricious fiend ;T'welve years! he was but eight then: beautiful How do I know he hath not track'd us here? He was, and beautiful he must be now.

JOSEPHINE.
My Ulric! my adored !

He des not know thy person, and his spies,
WERNER.

Who so long watch'd thee, have been left at Hamburgh
I have been full oft

Our unexpected journey, and this change The chase of fortune ; now she hath o'ertaken Of name, leave all discovery far behind: My spirit where it cannot turn at bay,

None hold us here for aught save what we seem. Sick, poor, and lonely.

Save what we seem! save what we are-sick begs urs
Lonely! my dear husband ? Even to our very hopes. Ha! ha!

WERNER.
Or worse-involving all I love, in this

Alas!
Far worse inan solitude. Alone, I had died, That bitter laugh!
And all been over in a nameless grave.
JOSEPHINE.

Who would read in this form And I had not outlived thee; but pray

take

The high soul of the son of a long line ? Confort! We have struggled long; and they who strive Who, in this garb, the heir of princely lands? With fortune win or weary her at lasi,

Who, in this sunken, sickly eye, the pride So that they find the goal, or cease to feel

Of rank and ancestry; in this worn chcek,
Further. Take comfort,--we shall find our boy. And famine-hollow'd brow, the lord of halls,
WERNER.

Which daily feast a thousand vassals ?
We were in sight of him, of every thing
Which could bring compensation for past sorrow-
And to be baffled thus !

Ponder'd not thus upon these worllly things,
JOSEPHINE.

My Werner! when you deign d to choose for bride
We are not bamled.

The foreign daughter of a wandering exile.
WERXER.

WERXER.
Are we not pennyless ?

An exile's daughter with an outcast son
JOSEPHINE.

Were a fit marriage; but I still had hopes
We ne'er were weaithy. To lift thee to the state we both were born for.
WERXER.

Your father's house was noble, though decay'l; But I was born to wealth, and rank, and

power ; And worthy by its birth to match with ours. Enjoy'd them, loved them, and, alas! abused them, And forfeited them by my rather's wrath,

Your father did not think so, though 't was noble; In my n'er-servent youth; but for the abuse

But had my birth been all my claim to match
Long sufferings have aloned. My father's death With thee, I shculd have deem'd it what it is.
Left the path open, yet not without snares.
This cold and creeping kinsman, who so long And what is that in thine cycs?
Kept his eye on me, as the snake upon
The fluttering bird, hath ere this tiine outstept me,

All which it
Become the master of my rights, and lord

Has done in our behalf,-nothing. Of that which lifts him up to princes in

WERNER. Dominion and domain.

How,-nothing?
JOSEPHINE

JOSEPHINE.
Who knows? our son Or worse ; for it has been a canker in
May have return'd back to his grandsire, and Thy heart from the beginning: but for this,
Even now uphold thy rights for thee!

We had not felt our poverty, but as
WERNER.

Millions of myriads feel it, cheerfully;

'T is hopeless. But for these phantoms of thy feu-lal fathers, Since his strange disappearance from my father's, Thou might'st have tarn’d thy bread as thousands earth Entailing, as il werc, my sins upon

Or, if that seem too humbie, tried by commerce, Himself, no tidings have reveald his course.

Or o:her civic means, to mend thy fortunes. I parted with him to his grandsire, on

WERNER (ironically). The promise that his anger would stop short

And been an Ilanseatic burgber? Excellent ! of the third generation; but leaven seems

JOSEPHINE. To claim her stern prerogative, and visit

Whate'er thou inight'st have been, to me thou arta Upou iny boy his father's faults and follies.

What no state, high or low, can ever change,
JOSEPHINE.

My heart's first choice;—which chose thiee, knowing I must hope better still,- at least we have yet

neither Batiled the long pursuit of Stralenheim.

Thy birth, thy hopes, thy pride; nought, save thy sortews*

While they last, let nie comfort or dvide them; We should have done, but for this fatal sickness, When they end, let mine end wish them, or thee! More fatal than a niortal malady,

WERXER. Because it takes not life, but life's sole solace: My better argel! such as I have ever found thee; Even now I feel my spirit girt about

This rashness, or this weakness of my lemper,

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

IDEXSTFIN.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

WERNER.

JOSEPHINE.

de'er raised a thought to injure thee or thine. Surgeon's assistant (hoping to be surgeon),
l'hou didst not mar my fortunes: my own nature And has done miracles i' the way of business.
.n youth was such as to unmake an empire,

Perhaps you are related to my relative?
lad such been my inheritance; but now,
Chasiend, subdued, outworn, and laught to know To yours?
Myself,—to lose this for our son and thee!
Trust ine, when, in my two-and-ewentieth spring,

Oh, yes, we are, but distantly.
My father barr'd me from my father's house,

(Aside to WERNER. The last sole scion of a thousand sires

Cannot you humour the dull gossip, till (For I was then the last), it hurt me less

We learn his purpose ?
Than to behold my boy and my boy's mother
Excluded in their innocence from what

Well, I'm glad of that; *My faults deserved exclusion; although then I thought so all along; such natural yearnings My passions were all living serpents, and

Play'd round my heartblood is not water, cousin ; I'wined like the gorgon's round nje.

And so let's have some wine, and drink unto
(A knocking is heard. Our better acquaintance: relatives should be

Friends,
Hark!

WERNER.

You appear to have drunk enough already, A knocking! And if you had not, I've no wine to offer,

Else it were yours; but this you know, or should know. Who can it be at this lone hour ? we have

You see I am poor and sick, and will not see Few visiter3.

That I would be alone; but to your business!

What brings you here?
And poverty hath nonc,

IDENSTEIN.
Save those who come to make it poorer still.

Why, what should bring me here? Well, I am prepared.

(Werner puts his hand into his bosom, as if to I know not, though I think that I could guess
search for some weapon,

That which will send you hence.

JOSEPHINE (aside).
Ok! do not look so. I
Will to the door; it cannot be of import

Patience, dear Werner!

IDENSTEIN lo this lone spot of wintry desolation

You don't know what has happen'd, then? The very desert saves man from mankind. (She goes to the door.

How should we !
Enter IDENSTEIN,

The river has o'erflow'd.
A fair good evening to my fairer hostess
And worthy-what's your name, my friend ?

Alas! we have known
That to our sorrow, for these five days, since

Are you It keeps us here.
Not afraid to demand i: ?

But what you don't know is,
Not afraid !

That a great personage, who fain would cross
Egad! I am afraid. You look as if

Against the stream, and three postilions' wishes, I ask'd for something better than your name,

Is drown'd below the ford, with five post-horses, By the face you put on it.

A monkey, and a mastiff, and a valet.
WERNER.
Better, sir ?

Poor creatures ! are you sure?

IDENSTEIN. Rriter or worse, like mairimony, what

Yes, of the monkey Shall I say more? You have been a guest this month And the valet, and the cattle; but as yet Ilere in the prince's palace-(to be sure,

We know not if his excellency's dead
His highness had resign'd it to the ghosts

Or no; your noblemen are hard to drown,
And rats ihese twelve years-blit 'l is still a palace! As it is fit that men in office should be;
I say you have been our lodger, and as yet

But, what is certain is, that he has swallow'd
We do not know your name.

Enough of the Oder to have burst two peasants ;

And now a Saxon and Hur.garian traveller,
My name is Werner Who, at their proper peril, snatch'd him from

The whirling river, have sent on to crave
Agnolly namr. a very worthy name,

A loilging, or a grave, according as As e'er was gilt upon a trader's board ;

It ma' turn ou: with the live or dead bod. I have a cousin in the lazaretto

JOS.PHIME. Of Hambirgh, who has got a wife who bore

And whare will you receive him? bere, I pe. Tie same. He is an officer of trust,

It we can be of service-say the woru.

JOSEPHINE.

IDENSTEIN.

IDENSTEIN.

JOSEPHINE.

WERNER.

IDEXSTEIN.

IDEXSTEIN.

JOSEPHINE.

IDENSTEIN

WERNER.

IDENSTEIN.

GABOR.

WERNER.

Pray

GABOR.

IDENSTEIN.

IDENSTEIN

WERXER.

GABOR.

IDENSTEIN

IDENSTEIN. Here! no; but in the prince's own apartment,

But are you sure
As fits a noble guest : 't is damp, no doubt,

His excellency—but his name, what is it?
Not having been inhabited these twelve years;
Put then he comes from a much damper place, I do not know.
So scarcely will catch cold in 't, if he bo

IDENSTEIN.
Sull liable to cold-and if not, why

And yet you saved his life. He'll be worse lodged to-morrow: nc'ertheless,

G A BOR. I have order'd fire and all appliances

I help'd my friend to do so. To be got ready for the worst—that is,

IDEXSTEIN. In case he should survive.

Well, that's strange,
JOSEPHINE.

To save a man's life whom you do not know.
Poor gentleman!

GABOR.
I hope he will, with all my heart.

Not so; for there are some I know so well,

I scarce should give myself the trouble.
Intendant,

IDENSTEIN.
Have you not learn'd his name? My Josephine,

(Aside to his wife. Good friend, and who may you be ? Retire-I'll sift this fool. [Erit JOSEPHINE.

By my family, His name? oh Lord! Hungarian. Who knows if he hath now a name or no; "T is time enough to ask it when he's able

Which is call'd ? To give an answer, or if not, to put

GABOR. His heir's upon his epitaph. Methought,

It matters little.
Just now you chid me for demanding naines ?

IDENSTEIN (a side).
I think that all the world are grown anonymous,

Since no one cares to tell me what he's callid!
True, true, I did so; you say well and wisely.

Pray, has his excellency a large suite ?
Enter GABOR.

Sufficient.
GABOR.

IDENSTEIN.
If I intrude, I crave-

How many ?
IDENSTEIN.
Oh! no intrusion !

I did not count them.
This is the palace; this a stranger like

We came up by mere accident, and just Yourself; I pray you make yourself at home:

In time to drag him through his carriage window. But where's his excellency, and how fares he?

IDENSTEIN.

Well, what would I give to save a great man! Wetly and wearily, bu. out of peril ;

No doubt you'll have a swinging sum as recompense.
He paused to change his garments in a cottage
(Where I doff’d mine for these, and came on hither), Perhaps.
And has almost recover'd from his drenching.
He will be here anon.

Now, how much do you reckon on?
IDEYSTEIN.

What ho, there! bustle! I have not yet put up myself to sale:
Without there, Herman, Weilburg, Peter, Conrad! In the mean time, my best reward would be

[Gives directions to different servants who enter. A glass of your Hochheimer, a green glass, A nobleman sleeps here to-night-see that

Wreathed with rich grapes and Bacchanal devices, All is in order in the damask chamber

O’erflowing with the oldest of your vintage;
Keep up the stove-I will myself to the cellar- For which I promise you, in case you e'er
And Madame Idenstein (my consort, stranger) Run hazard of being drown'd (although I own
Shall furnish forth the bed-apparel; for,

It seems, of all deaths, the least likely for you),
To say the truth, they are marvellous scant of this I'll pull you out for nothing. Quick, my friend,
Within the palace precincts, since his highness And think, for every bumper I shall quaff,
Left it some dozen years ago. And then

A wave the less may roll above your head.
Ifis excellency will sup, doubtless ?

IDENSTEIN (aside).

I don't much like this fellow-close and dry
Faith!

He seems, two things which suit me not; however, I cannot tell ; but I should think the pillow

Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him nol,
Would please him better than the table, after I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity.
His soaking in your river: but for fear

(Erit IDENSTEIX. Your viands should be thrown away, I mean

GABOR (20 WERNER.)
T, sup myself, and have a friend without

This master of the ceremonies is
Who will do honour lo your good cheer with The intendant of the palace, I presume.
A traveller's appetite.

"Tis a fine building, but decay'd.

GABOR.

GABOR

GABOR.

IDENSTEIN.

G.BOR.

GABOR.

:

WERNER.

WERNER.

GABOR.

WERNER

WERNER.

GABOR.

WERNER.

WERNER.

WERXER.

GABOR.

In bearing.

The apartment

I was. Design'd for him you rescued, will be found

GABOR.
In titter orsler for a sickly guest.

You look one scill. All soldiers are
GABOR.

Or should be comrades, even though enemies.
I wonder then you occupied it not,

Our swords when drawn must cross, our engines aim For you seem delicate in health.

(While levellid) at each other's hearts ; but when WERNER (quickly).

A truce, a peace, or what you will, remits
Sir!

The steel into its scabbard, and lets sleep

The spark which lights the matchlock, we are brethren. Pray

You are poor and sickly-I am not rich, but healthy, Excuse me: have I said aught to offend you ? I want for nothing which I cannot want;

You seem devoid of this-wilt share it ? Nothing: but we are strangers to each other.

[Gabor pulls out his purse. GABOR And that's the reason I would have us less so!

Who
I thought our bustling guest without had said Told you I was a beggar ?
You were a chance and passing guest, the counterpart
Of me and my companions.

You yourself,
In saying you were a soldier during peace time.
Very true.

WERNER (looking at him with suspicion).
GABOR.

You know me not?
Then, as we never met before, and never,

GABOR. li may be, may again encounter, why,

I know no man, not even I thought to cheer up this old dungeon here

Myself: how should I then know one I ne'er (At least to me) by asking you to share

Beheld, till half an hour since? The fare of my companions and myself.

Sir, I thank you. Pray, pardon me; my health

Your offer 's noble, were it to a friend,

And not unkind as to an unknown stranger,
Even as you please.

Though scarcely prudent; but no less I thank you. I have been a soldier, and perhaps am blunt

I am a beggar in all save his trade,

And when I beg of any one, it shall be
WERXER.

Of him who was the first to offer what
I have also served, and can

Few can obtain by asking. Pardon me.
Requite a soldier's greeting.

(Erit WERNEP. GABOR

GABOR (solus).
In what service?

A goodly fellow, by his looks, though worn,
The Imperial ?

As most good fellows are, by pain or pleasure,
WERNER (quickly, and then interrupting himself). Which tear life out of us before our time:
I commanded-no-I mean

I scarce know which most quickly; but he seems I served; but it is many years ago,

To have seen better days, as who has not When first Bohemia raised her banner 'gainst Who has seen yesterday?—But here approaches The Austrian.

Our sage intendant, with the wine; however,

For the cup's sake, I 'll bear the cup-bearer.
Well, that's over, now,

and
peace

Enter IDENSTEIN.
Has turn'd some thousand gallant hearts adrift
To live as they best may: and, to say truth,

'Tis here! the supernaculum! twenty years Some take the shortest.

Of age, if 't is a day.
WERNER
What is that?

Which epoch makes
Young women and old wine, and 't is great pity

Whate'er of two such excellent things, increase of years, They lay their hands on. All Silesia and

Which still improves the one, should spoil the other. Lusatia's woods are tenanted by bands

Fill full-Here's to our hostess—your fair wife. Of the late troops, who levy on the country

(Takes the glass Their maintenance: the Chatelains must keep Their castle walls-beyond them 't is but doubtful Fair!-Well, I trust your taste in wine is equal Traves for your rich count or full-blown baron. To that you show for beauty; but I pledge you My comfort is that, wander where I may,

Nevertheless.
I've little left to lose now.

Is not the lovely woman
And I-nothing

I met in the adjacent hall, who, with

An air, and port, and eye, which would have belle That's harder still. You say you were a soldier. Beseem'd this palace in its brightest days

GABOR

GABOR.

GABOR.

IDENSTEIN

GABOR.

WERNER.

GABCR.

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