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, bastardized by practice
Of this same Baron to make way for him.
Werner. 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;
And, for the sovereign's head, my own begirt
With hissing snakes, which curl around
my temples,

And cry to all beholders-lo! a villain!
Ulric. You must not use it, at least,

Bribe the Intendant for his old caleche
And horses to pursue your route at sunrise,
Together with my mother.

Werner. And leave you,
So lately found, in peril too?
Ulric. Fear nothing!

The only fear were if we fled together, For that would make our ties beyond all doubt.

The waters only lie in flood between
This burgh and Frankfort: so far's in our
favour.

The route on to Bohemia, though encumber'd,
Is not impassable; and when you gain
A few hours' start, the difficulties will be
The same to your pursuers. Once beyond
The frontier, and you're safe.

Werner. My noble boy!

Ulric. Hush! hush! no transports: we'll indulge in them

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 gold-
No jewel: therefore, it could not be his;
And then, the man who was possess'd 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.
Werner. I will follow
In all things your direction.

Ulric. I would have

Spared you the trouble; but had I appear'd To take an interest in you, and still more By dabbling with a jewel in your favour, All had been known at once.

Werner. My guardian-angel! This overpays the past. But how wilt thou Fare in our absence?

Ulric. Stralenheim knows nothing Of me as aught of kindred with yourself. I will but wait a day or two with him To lull all doubts, and then rejoin my father. Werner. To part no more! Ulric. I know not that; but at The least we'll meet again once more. Werner. My boy!

My friend my only child, and sole preserver!
Oh, do not hate me!

Ulric. Hate my father!
Werner. Ay,

My father hated me: why not my son?
Ulric. Your father knew you not as I do.
Werner. Scorpions

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.

Ulric. I'll wait!

In the mean time be sure that all a son
Can do for parents shall be done for mine.
Werner. I see it, and I feel it, yet I feel
Further that you despise me.

Ulric. Wherefore should I?
Werner. Must I repeat my humiliation?
Ulric. No!

I have fathom'd it and you. But let us talk
Of this no more. Or if it must be ever,
Not now; your error has redoubled all
The present difficulties of our house,
At secret war with that of Stralenheim;
All we have now to think of, is to baffle
HIM. I have shown one way.

Werner. The only one,

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

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

The rogue?

Idenst. No, faith!

Ulric. Well, there are plenty more: You may have better luck another chase. Where is the Baron?

Idenst. Gone back to his chamber: And now I think on't, asking after you With nobly-born impatience.

Ulric. Your great men

Must be answer'd on the instant, as the bound

Of the stung steed replies unto the spur: 'Tis well they have horses, too; for if they had not,

I fear that men must draw their chariots, as They say kings did Sesostris'.

Idenst. Who was he?

Ulric. An old Bohemian-and imperial gipsy.

Idenst. A gipsy or Bohemian, 'tis the

same,

For they pass by both names. And was he one?

Ulric. I've heard so; but I must take

leave. Intendant, Your servant! Werner (to Werner,slightly), if that be your name,

Yours. [Exit Ulric. Idenst. A well-spoken,pretty-faced young man!

And prettily behaved! He knows his station, You see, sir: how he gave to each his due Precedence'

Werner. I perceived it, and applaud His just discernment and your own. Idenst. That's well

That's very well. You also know your place, too,

And yet I don't know that I know your place.

Werner (showing the ring). Would this
assist your knowledge?
Idenst. How!-What!—Ëh !
A jewel!

Werner. 'Tis your own, on one condition.
Idenst. Mine!-Name it!

Werner. That hereafter you permit me
At thrice its value to redeem it; 'tis
A family-ring.

Idenst. A family! yours! a gem! I'm breathless!

Werner. You must also furnish me, An hour ere daybreak, with all means to quit This place.

Idenst. But is it real? let me look on it: Diamond, by all that's glorious!

Werner. Come, I'll trust you;

You have guess'd, no doubt, that I was born above

Of gentle blood!

Werner. I have important reasons
For wishing to continue privily
My journey hence.

Idenst. So then you are the man
Whom Stralenheim's in quest of?
Werner. I am not;

But being taken for him might conduct
So much embarrassment to me just now,
And to the Baron's self hereafter-'tis
To spare both, that I would avoid all bustle.
Idenst. Be you the man or no, 'tis not
my business;

Besides, I never should obtain the half From this proud, niggardly noble, who would raise

The country for some missing bits of coin, And never offer a precise reward

But this! Another look!

Werner. Gaze on it freely;

At day-dawn it is yours.

Idenst. Oh, thou sweet sparkler! Thou more than stone of the philosopher! Thou touchstone of Philosophy herself! Thou bright eye of the Mine! thou loadstar of

The soul! the true magnetic Pole to which All hearts point duly north, like trembling needles!

Thou flaming Spirit of the Earth! which,

sitting

High on the monarch's diadem, attractest More worship than the Majesty who sweats Beneath the crown which makes his head ache, like

Millions of hearts which bleed to lend it lustre!

Shalt thou be mine? I am, methinks, already
A little king, a lucky alchymist!—
A wise magician, who has bound the devil
Without the forfeit of his soul. But come,
Werner, or what else?

Werner. Call me Werner still, You may yet know me by a loftier title. Idenst. 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 furnished, 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 –
how many

Carats may it weigh?-Come, Werner, I
will wing thee.
[Exeunt,

And man, an everlasting mist ;-I will
Unto my pillow.

Fritz. May you rest there well!
Stralenh. I feel, and fear, I shall.
Fritz. And wherefore fear?

Stralenh. I know not why, and therefore do fear more,

Because an undescribable—but 'tis
All folly. Were the locks (as I desired)
Changed to-day, of this chamber? for last
night's

Adventure makes it needful.
Fritz. Certainly,

According to your order, and beneath
The inspection of myself and the young

Saxon

The roaring torrent, and restored me to Thank him--and despise you. "You think!” and scarce

Can recollect his name! I will not waste More words on you. Call me betimes. Fritz. Good night!

I trust to-morrow will restore your Lordship To renovated strength and temper. [The Scene closes.

SCENE. III.-The secret Passage.

Gabor (solus). FourFive-six hours have I counted, like the guard

Of outposts, on the never-merry clock: That hollow tongue of time, which, even when

It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment

With every clang. 'Tis 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 sons' ear.—I'm coldI'm dark-I've blown my fingers-number'd

o'er

And o'er my steps- and knock'd my head against

Some fifty buttresses-and roused the rats And bats in general insurrection, till Their cursed pattering feet and whirring wings

Leave me scarce hearing for another sound.
A light! It is at distance (if I can
Measure in darkness distance): but it blinks
As through a crevice or a key-hole, in
The inhibited direction; I must on,'
Nevertheless, from curiosity.

A distant lamp-light is an incident
In such a den as this. Pray Heaven it lead me
To nothing that may tempt me! Else-
Heaven aid me

To obtain or to escape it! Shining still!
Were it the Star of Lucifer himself,
Or he himself girt with its beams, I could
Contain no longer. Softly! mighty well!
That corner's turn'd-So-Ah! no;- right!
it draws

Nearer. Here is a darksome angle-so,
'That's weather'd.-Let me pause.-Suppose

it leads

Into some greater danger than that which
I have escaped ?-no matter, 'tis a new one;
And novel perils, like fresh mistresses,
Wear more magnetic aspects:-I will on,
And be it where it may-I have my dagger,
Which may protect me at a pinch.-Burn |
still

Thou little light! Thou art my ignis fatuus!
My stationary Will o' the wisp!-So! so!
He hears my invocation, and fails not.
[The Scene closes.

SCENE IV-A Garden.

Enter WERNER.

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 disco-
very?

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! Thrice welcome now! this filial

Ulric. Stop! before

We approach, tell me-
Werner.. Why look you so?
Ulric. Do I
Behold my father, or―

Werner. What?
Ulric. An assassin!

Werner. Insane or insolent!
Ulric. Reply, sir, as
You prize your life, or mine!
Werner. To what must I
Answer?

Ulric. Are you or are you not the assassin Of Stralenheim?

Werner. I never was as yet The murderer of any man. What mean you? Ulric. Did you not this night (as the

night before)

Retrace the secret passage? Did you not Again revisit Stralenheim's chamber? and[Ulric pauses.

Werner. Proceed.

Ulric. Died he not by your hand? Werner. Great God!

Ulric. You are innocent, then! my fa

ther's innocent!

Werner. Certain.

yes, yes,

Yet say so!

Werner. If I e'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!

Ulric. But Stralenheim is dead.

Werner. Thieves!

[He pauses.

Thou wouldst say: I must bear it, and deserve it;

But not

Ulric. No, father; do not speak of this; This is no hour to think of petty crimes, But to prevent the consequence of great

ones.

'tis hateful!

But what have I to do with this?

Ulric. No bolt

Is forced; no violence can be detected,

Imploring a few hours' concealment from The very wretch who was the cause he

needed

Such refuge. Had he been a wolf, I could not

forth.

Ulric. And like the wolf he hath repaid

If nature

Werner. Oh, my boy! what unknown

woes

Of dark fatality, like clouds, are gathering Above our house!

Ulric. My father, I acquit you!

you. But

It is too late to ponder this: you must
Set out ere dawn. I will remain here to
Trace out the murderer, if 'tis possible.
Werner. But this my sudden flight will

give the Moloch

I quitted it. I found the secret pannel Open, and the doors which lead from that hall

Which masks it: I but thought he had snatch'd the silent

And favourable moment to escape
The myrmidons of Idenstein, who were
Dogging him yester-even.

Ulric. You re-closed
The pannel?

Werner. Yes; and not without reproach (And inner trembling for the avoided peril) At his dull heedlessness, in leaving thus His shelterer's asylum to the risk Of a discovery.

Ulric. You are sure you closed it?

Ulric. Who seems? Who else Can be so?

Werner. Not I, though just now you doubted

You, my son!— doubted—

Ulric. And do you doubt of him The fugitive?

Werner. Boy! since I fell into The abyss of crime (though not of such crime), I,

Having seen the innocent oppress'd for me, May doubt even of the guilty's guilt. Your heart

Is free, and quick with virtuous wrath to

accuse

Appearances; and views a criminal
In innocence's shadow, it may be,
Because 'tis dusky.

Ulric. And if I do so,

What will mankind, who know you not, or knew

But to oppress? You must not stand the hazard.

Away!-I'll make all easy. Idenstein
Will for his own sake and his jewel's hold
His peace-he also is a partner in
Your flight-moreover—

Werner. Fly! and leave my name

| Link'd with the Hungarian's, or preferr'd, as poorest,

To bear the brand of bloodshed?

Ulric. Pshaw! leave any thing Except our fathers' sovereignty and castles,