Erminia. Aye, so we purpose.

Ethelbert.

Daughter, do you so?

How's this? I marvel! Yet you look not mad.
Erminia. I have good news to tell you, Ethelbert.
Gersa. Ho! ho, there! Guards!

Your blessing, father! Sweet Erminia,
Believe me, I am well nigh sure—

Erminia.

Short time will show.

Farewell!

[Enter Chiefs.

Yes, father Ethelbert,

I have news precious as we pass along. Ethelbert. Dear daughter, you shall guide me. Erminia.

To no ill.

Gersa. Command an escort to the Friedburg

lines.

[Exeunt Chiefs.

Pray let me lead. Fair lady, forget not
Gersa, how he believed you innocent.
I follow you to Friedburg with all speed.

[Exeunt.

O

ACT III.

SCENE I.- The Country.

Enter ALBERT.

Albert.

THAT the earth were empty, as when Cain Had no perplexity to hide his head! Or that the sword of some brave enemy Had put a sudden stop to my hot breath,

And hurl'd me down the illimitable gulf
Of times past, unremember'd! Better so
Than thus fast-limed in a cursed snare,-
The white limbs of a wanton. This the end
Of an aspiring life! My boyhood past

In feud with wolves and bears, when no eye saw
The solitary warfare, fought for love

Of honour 'mid the growling wilderness;
My sturdier youth, maturing to the sword,
Won by the syren-trumpets, and the ring

Of shields upon the pavement, when bright-mail'd
Henry the Fowler pass'd the streets of Prague.
Was 't to this end I louted and became
The menial of Mars, and held a spear,
Sway'd by command, as corn is by the wind?
Is it for this, I now am lifted up
By Europe's throned Emperor, to see
My honour be my executioner,-
My love of fame, my prided honesty,
Put to the torture for confessional?

Then the damn'd crime of blurting to the world
A woman's secret!-though a fiend she be,
Too tender of my ignominious life;
But then to wrong the generous Emperor
In such a searching point, were to give up
My soul for foot-ball at hell's holiday!

I must confess, and cut my throat,-to-day?
To-morrow? Ho! some wine!

Enter SIGIFRED.

Sigifred. A fine humour

Albert. Who goes there? Count Sigifred? Ha! ha! Sigifred. What, man, do you mistake the hollow sky VOL. III.

19

For a throng'd tavern, and these stubbed trees
For old serge hangings,-me, your humble friend,
For a poor waiter? Why, man, how you stare!
What Gipsies have you been carousing with?
No, no more wine; methinks you've had enough.
Albert. You well may laugh and banter. What a
fool

An injury may make of a staid man!

You shall know all anon.

Sigifred.

Some tavern brawl?

Albert. 'T was with some people out of common

reach;

Revenge is difficult.

Sigifred.

I am your friend;

We meet again to-day, and can confer
Upon it. For the present I'm in haste.
Albert. Whither?

Sigifred.

To fetch King Gersa to the feast. The Emperor on this marriage is so hot, Pray heaven it end not in apoplexy!

The very porters, as I pass'd the doors,

Heard his loud laugh, and answer'd in full choir. I marvel, Albert, you delay so long

From these bright revelries; go, show yourself, You may be made a duke.

Albert.

Pray, what day has his
Sigifred. For what?

Ay, very like.
Highness fix'd upon ?

What else can I mean?

Albert. The marriage. Sigifred. To-day. O, I forgot, you could not know; The news is scarce a minute old with me.

Albert. Married to-day! To-day! You did not

Sigifred. Now, while I speak to you, their comely

heads

Are bowed before the mitre.

Albert.

Sigifred. What is this?

Albert.

O! monstrous!

Nothing, Sigifred. Farewell!

We'll meet upon our subject. Farewell, Count!

[Exit.

Sigifred. To this clear-headed Albert? He brain

turn'd!

'Tis as portentous as a meteor.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-An Apartment in the Castle.

Enter, as from the Marriage, OTHO, LUDOLPH, AURANTHE, CONRAD, Nobles, Knights, Ladies, &c. Music.

Otho. Now, Ludolph! Now, Auranthe!

Daughter fair!

What can I find to grace your nuptial day More than my love, and these wide realms in fee? Ludolph. I have too much.

Auranthe.

And I, my liege, by far.

Ludolph. Auranthe I have! O, my bride, my love! Not all the gaze upon us can restrain

My eyes, too long poor exiles from thy face,
From adoration, and my foolish tongue
From uttering soft responses to the love
I see in thy mute beauty beaming forth!
Fair creature, bless me with a single word!
All mine!

Auranthe. Spare, spare me, my lord; I swoon else.
Ludolph. Soft beauty! by to-morrow I should die,
Wert thou not mine.
[They talk apart.
Ist Lady. How deep she has bewitch'd him!
Ist Knight. Ask you for her recipe for love philtres.
2nd Lady. They hold the Emperor in admiration.
Otho. If ever king was happy that am I!
What are the cities 'yond the Alps to me,
The provinces about the Danube's mouth,
The promise of fair sail beyond the Rhone;
Or routing out of Hyperborean hordes,
To these fair children, stars of a new age?
Unless perchance I might rejoice to win
This little ball of earth, and chuck it them
To play with!

Auranthe. Nay, my lord, I do not know.
Ludolph. Let me not famish.
Otho (to Conrad).

Good Franconia,

You heard what oath I sware, as the sun rose, That unless Heaven would send me back my son, My Arab,-no soft music should enrich

The cool wine, kiss'd off with a soldier's smack; Now all my empire, barter'd for one feast,

Seems poverty.

Conrad.

Upon the neighbour plain

The heralds have prepared a royal lists;

Your knights, found war-proof in the bloody field,