Of the late troops, who levy on the country
Their maintenance: the chatelains must keep
Their castle-walls-beyond them 't is but doubtful
Travel for your rich count or full-blown baron.
My comfort is that, wander where I may,
I've little left to lose now.

And I-nothing.

Wer.
Gab. That's harder still. You say you were a sol-
Wer I was.
[dier?
Gab. You look one still. All soldiers are
Or should be comrades, even though enemies.
Our swords when drawn must cross, our engines aim
(While levell'd) at each other's hearts; but when
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.

You are poor and sickly-I am not rich, but healthy;
I want for nothing which I cannot want;
You seem devoid of this-wilt share it?

In saying you were a soldier during peace-time. Wer. (looking at him with suspicion.) know me not?

You Gab. I know no man, not even Myself: how should I then know one I ne'er Beheld till half an hour since? Wer.

Sir, I thank you.
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 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. [Exit WER.
Gab. (solus.) A goodly fellow by his looks, though
worn,

As most good fellows are, by pain or pleasure,
Which tear life out of us before our time;
I scarce know which most quickly: but he seems
To have seen better days, as who has not
Who has seen yesterday ?-But here approaches
Our sage intendant, with the wine: however,
For the cup's sake, I'll bear the cupbearer.

Enter IDENSTEIN.

Iden. 'Tis here! the supernaculum! twenty years Of age, if 't is a day. Gab. Which epoch makes Young women and old wine; and't is great pity, Of two such excellent things, increase of years, Which still improves the one, should spoil the other. Fill full-Here's to our hostess!--your fair wife! [Takes the glass.

But how came he here? Iden. In a most miserable old caleche, About a month since, and immediately Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died Gab. Tender and true!-but why! Iden. Why, what is life Without a living? He has not a stiver. Gab. In that case, I much wonder that a person Of your apparent prudence should admit Guest so forlorn into this noble mansion.

Iden. That's true; but pity, as you know, does

But hark! a noise of wheels and voices, and
A blaze of torches from without. As sure
As destiny, his excellency's come.

I must be at my post: will you not join me,
To help him from his carriage, and present
Your humble duty at the door?
Gab.
I dragg'd him
From out that carriage, when he would have given
His barony or county to repel

The rushing river from his gurgling throat.
He has valets now enough: they stood aloof then,
| Shaking their dripping ears upon the shore,
All roaring "Help!" but offering none; and as
For duty (as you call it)—I did mine then, [here!
Now do yours. Hence, and bow and cringe him
Iden.Icringe!-but I shall lose the opportunity-
Plague take it! he'll be here, and I not there!
[Exit IDENSTEIN hastily.

Wer. (aside.)

Stral.

Ho! a chair! [STRALENHEIM sils down. 'Tis he!

Who are these strangers?

Iden.

I'm better now.

Gab. There were, in company; But, in the service render'd to your lordship, I needs must say but one, and he is absent. The chief part of whatever aid was render'd Was hix: it was his fortune to be first. My will was not inferior, but his strength And youth outstripp'd me; therefore do not waste Your thanks on me. I was but a glad second Unto a nobler principal.

Stral.

Where is he?

An Atten. My lord, he tarried in the cottage where Your excellency rested for an hour,

And said he would be here to-morrow.

Stral. Till That hour arrives, I can but offer thanks, And then

Gab.

I seek no more, and scarce deserve So much. My comrade may speak for himself. Stral. (fixing his eyes upon WERNER: then aside.) It cannot be! and yet he must be look'd 'Tis twenty years since I beheld him with [to. These eyes; and, though my agents still have kept Theirs on him, policy has held aloof My own from his, not to alarm him into Suspicion of my plan. Why did I leave At Hamburgh those who would have made assurance If this be he or no? I thought, ere now, To have been lord of Siegendorf, and parted In haste, though even the elements appear To fight against me, and this sudden flood, May keep me prisoner here till

[He pauses, and looks at WERNER; then reThis man must

sumes.

Iden. Your lordship seems Pensive. Will it not please you to pass on?

An hour is past I'll do my best to serve him.
Fritz. Remember!
[Exit FRITZ.
Iden. The devil take these great men! they
Think all things made for them. Now here must l
Rouse up some half a dozen shivering vassals
From their scant pallets, and, at peril of
Their lives, despatch them o'er the river towards
Frankfort. Methinks the baron's own experience
Some hours ago might teach him fellow-feeling:
But no, "it must,” and there's an end. How now?
Are you there, Mynheer Werner?

Put many questions to the intendant on
The subject of your lord, and, to be plain,
I have my doubts if he means well.

Jos.
Alas!
What can there be in common with the proud
And wealthy baron, and the unknown Werner?
Gab. That you know best.

Jos. Or, if it were so, how Come you to stir yourself in his behalf, Rather than that of him whose life you saved? Gab. I help'd to save him, as in peril ; but I did not pledge myself to serve him in Oppression. I know well these nobles, and Their thousand modes of trampling on the poor. I have proved them; and my spirit boils up when I find them practising against the weak :This is my only motive.

Now I am master of myself at least.

Hark,-footsteps! How do I know that Stralenheim
Will wait for even the show of that authority
Which is to overshadow usurpation?
That he suspects me's certain. I'm alone;
He with a numerous train. I weak; he strong

In gold, in numbers, rank, authority,

I nameless, or involving in my name
Destruction, till I reach my own domain;
He full-blown with his titles, which impose
Still further on these obscure petty burghers
Than they could do elsewhere. Hark! nearer still!
I'll to the secret passage, which communicates
With the--No! all is silent-'t was my fancy!
Still as the breathless interval between
The flash and thunder:-I must hush my soul
Amidst its perils. Yet I will retire.

[Bxil GABOR. Re-enter IDENSTEIN and some Peasants. JOSEPHINE retires up the Hall.

First Peasant. But if I'm drown'd? Iden. Why, you will be well paid for 't, And have risk'd more than drowning for as much, I doubt not.

Second Peasant. But our wives and families? Iden. Cannot be worse off than they are, and may Be better.

Third Peasant. I have neither, and will venture. Iden. That's right. A gallant carle, and fit to be A soldier. I'll promote you to the ranks In the prince's body-guard-if you succeed; And you shall have besides, in sparkling coin, Two thalers.

Third Peasant. No more!

Iden.

Sirrah! in the prince's

Absence, I'm sovereign; and the baron is

My intimate connection:-"Cousin Idenstein!
(Quoth he) you 'll order out a dozen villains."

And so, you villains! troop-march-march, I say;
And if a single dog's-ear of this packet
Be sprinkled by the Oder-look to it!
For every page of paper, shall a hide

Of yours be stretch'd as parchment on a drum,
Like Ziska's skin, to beat alarm to all
Refractory vassals, who can not effect
Impossibilities-Away, ye earth-worms!

[Exit, driving them out.

Jos. (coming forward.) I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated,

Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims;

I cannot aid, and will not witness such.
Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot,
The dimmest in the district's map, exist
The insolence of wealth in poverty

O'er something poorer still the pride of rank
In servitude, o'er something still more servile;
And vice in misery affecting still

A tatter'd splendour. What a state of being!
In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,
Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such
As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys
Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb
Was in itself a meal, and every vine

Rain'd, as it were, the beverage which makes glad
The heart of man; and the ne'er-unfelt sun
(But rarely clouded) and when clouded, leaving
His warmth behind in memory of his beams)
Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe, less
Oppressive than an emperor's jewell'd purple.
But, here! the despots of the north appear
To imitate the ice-wind of their clime,
Searching the shivering vassal through his rags,
To wring his soul-as the bleak elements

His form. And 't is to be amongst these sovereigns
My husband pants! and such his pride of birth-
That twenty years of usage, such as no
Father borne in a humble state could nerve

His soul to persecute a son withal,

Hath changed no atom of his early nature;
But I, born nobly also, from my father's
Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father!
May thy long-tried and now rewarded spirit
Look down on us and our so long desired
Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me!
What's that? Thou, Werner! can it be? and thus?
Enter WERNER hastily, with the knife in his
hand, by the secret panel, which he closes
hurriedly after him.

Wer. (not at first recognising her.) Discover'd!)
then I'll stab――(recognising her.)
Ah! Josephine,

Why art thou not at rest?