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Thou knowest not: but still I love thee, nor
Shall aught divide us.
(WERNER walks on abruptly, and then ap MEN.
The storm of the night,
Perhaps, affects me: I'm a thing of feelings,
And have of late been sickly, as, alas!
Thou know'st by sufferings more than mine, my love!
To see thee well is much
To see thee happy-
Where hast thou seen such ?
How many in this hour of tempest shiver
Whose every drop bows them down nearer earth,
Which hath no chamber for them save beneath
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 Silesia—the 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 ?
Yes—and from these alone.
And that is something.
True-to a peasant.
Should the nobly born
Be thankless for that refuge which their habits
Needful than to the peasant, when the ebb
of fortune leaves them on the shoals of life?
It is not that, thou know'st it is not: we
Have borne ali this, I'll not say patiently,
Except in thee-but we have borne it.
Something beyond our outward sufferings (though
These were enough to gnaw into our souls)
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
For this I had been happy—thou 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.
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.
He des not know thy person, and his spies,
Who so long watch'd thee, have been left at Hamburgh
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
Who would read in this form And I had not outlived thee; but pray
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,
Which daily feast a thousand vassals ?
Ponder'd not thus upon these worllly things,
My Werner! when you deign d to choose for bride
The foreign daughter of a wandering exile.
An exile's daughter with an outcast son
Were a fit marriage; but I still had hopes
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
All which it
Has done in our behalf,-nothing. Of that which lifts him up to princes in
WERNER. Dominion and domain.
We had not felt our poverty, but as
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,
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,
de'er raised a thought to injure thee or thine. Surgeon's assistant (hoping to be surgeon),
Perhaps you are related to my relative?
Oh, yes, we are, but distantly.
(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 ?
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
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?
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
That which will send you hence.
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 !
The river has o'erflow'd.
Alas! we have known
Are you It keeps us here.
But what you don't know is,
That a great personage, who fain would cross
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.
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
Or no; your noblemen are hard to drown,
But, what is certain is, that he has swallow'd
Enough of the Oder to have burst two peasants ;
And now a Saxon and Hur.garian traveller,
The whirling river, have sent on to crave
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.
IDENSTEIN. Here! no; but in the prince's own apartment,
But are you sure
His excellency—but his name, what is it?
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,
To save a man's life whom you do not know.
Not so; for there are some I know so well,
I scarce should give myself the trouble.
(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.
IDENSTEIN (a side).
Since no one cares to tell me what he's callid!
Pray, has his excellency a large suite ?
How many ?
I did not count them.
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?
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.
Now, how much do you reckon on?
What ho, there! bustle! I have not yet put up myself to sale:
[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;
It seems, of all deaths, the least likely for you),
A wave the less may roll above your head.
I don't much like this fellow-close and dry
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,
(Erit IDENSTEIX. Your viands should be thrown away, I mean
GABOR (20 WERNER.)
This master of the ceremonies is
"Tis a fine building, but decay'd.
I was. Design'd for him you rescued, will be found
You look one scill. All soldiers are
Or should be comrades, even though enemies.
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
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!
WERNER (looking at him with suspicion).
You know me not?
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,
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
Of him who was the first to offer what
Few can obtain by asking. Pardon me.
(Erit WERNEP. GABOR
A goodly fellow, by his looks, though worn,
As most good fellows are, by pain or pleasure,
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.
'Tis here! the supernaculum! twenty years Some take the shortest.
Of age, if 't is a day.
Which epoch makes
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,
Is not the lovely woman
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