We shall soon see him, for the Emperor

He will be here this morning.

E'en for his highness Ludolph's sceptry hand,

I would not Albert suffer any wrong.

CONRAD.

Have I not laboured, plotted— ?

AURANTHE.

See you spare him :

Nor be pathetic, my kind benefactor,
On all the many bounties of your hand,-
'Twas for yourself you laboured-not for me!
Do you not count, when I am queen, to take
Advantage of your chance discoveries

Of my poor secrets, and so hold a rod
Over my life?

CONRAD.

Let not this slave-this villain-
Be cause of feud between us. See! he comes !
Look, woman, look, your Albert is quite safe!
In haste it seems. Now shall I be in the way,
And wish'd with silent curses in my grave,
Or side by side with 'whelmed mariners.

110

115

120

Enter ALBERT.

ALBERT.

Fair on your graces fall this early morrow!
So it is like to do, without my prayers,

For your right noble names, like favorite tunes,
Have fallen full frequent from our Emperor's lips,
High commented with smiles.

AURANTHE.

Noble Albert !

CONRAD (aside).

AURANTHE.

Such salutation argues a glad heart

In our prosperity. We thank you, sir.

ALBERT.

Lady! O, would to Heaven your poor servant
Could do you better service than mere words!
But I have other greeting than mine own,
From no less man than Otho, who has sent
This ring as pledge of dearest amity;
'Tis chosen I hear from Hymen's jewel'ry,
And you will prize it, lady, I doubt not,
Beyond all pleasures past, and all to come.
To you great duke—

CONRAD.

To me! What of me, ha?

ALBERT.

What pleas'd your grace to say?

125

Noble !

130

135

For there shall be no "gentle Alberts" now,
No "sweet Auranthes!"

[Aside.

[Exeunt CONRAD and AURANTHE.

ALBERT (solus).

The duke is out of temper; if he knows
More than a brother of a sister ought,

I should not quarrel with his peevishness.
Auranthe-Heaven preserve her always fair!-

Is in the heady, proud, ambitious vein;
I bicker not with her,-bid her farewell!

She has taken flight from me, then let her soar,—
He is a fool who stands at pining gaze!

145

But for poor Ludolph, he is food for sorrow :

150

No levelling bluster of my licens'd thoughts,

No military swagger of my mind,

Can smother from myself the wrong I've done him,Without design, indeed,—yet it is so,—

And opiate for the conscience have I none!

155

[Exit.

SCENE II.-The Court-yard of the Castle.

Martial Music. Enter, from the outer gate, OTHO, Nobles, Knights, and Attendants. The Soldiers halt at the gate, with Banners in sight.

Отно.

Where is my noble herald?

Enter CONRAD, from the Castle, attended by two Knights and Servants. ALBERT following.

Well, hast told

Auranthe our intent imperial?

Lest our rent banners, too o' the sudden shown,
Should fright her silken casements, and dismay
Her household to our lack of entertainment.
A victory!

CONRAD.

God save illustrious Otho!

5

Отно.

Aye, Conrad, it will pluck out all grey hairs;
It is the best physician for the spleen;

The courtliest inviter to a feast;

The subtlest excuser of small faults;

And a nice judge in the age and smack of wine.

She

Enter, from the Castle, AURANTHE, followed by Pages holding up her robes, and a train of Women. kneels.

Hail my sweet hostess! I do thank the stars,

Or my good soldiers, or their ladies' eyes,
That, after such a merry battle fought,

I can, all safe in body and in soul,

15

Kiss your fair hand and lady fortune's too.
My ring! now, on my life, it doth rejoice
These lips to feel 't on this soft ivory!
Keep it, my brightest daughter; it may prove
The little prologue to a line of kings.

I strove against thee and my hot-blood son,
Dull blockhead that I was to be so blind,

But now my sight is clear; forgive me, lady.

AURANTHE.

20

My lord, I was a vassal to your frown,

And now your favour makes me but more humble;

25

What need of this? Enough, if you will be

A potent tutoress to my wayward boy,

And teach him, what it seems his nurse could not,
To say, for once, I thank you. Sigifred!

ALBERT.

He has not yet return'd, my gracious liege.

OTHO.

What then! No tidings of my friendly Arab?

None, mighty Otho.

CONRAD.

35

. [To one of his Knights, who goes out.

Send forth instantly

An hundred horsemen from my honoured gates,