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Gabor. You pledged your honour for Ulric. What! remain to be my safety!
Denour.ced—draggd, it may be, in chains; Slegend. And
and all Must thus redeem it. Fly! I am not master, By your inherent weakness, half-humanity, It seems, of my own castlo-of my own Selfish remorse, and temporising pity, Retainers- nay, even of these very walls, That sacrifices your whole race to save Or I would bid them fall and crush mo! Fly! A wretch to profit by our ruin! No, Count, Or you will be slain by
Henceforth you have no son! Gabor. Is it even so ?
Sicgend. I never had one; Farewell, then! Recollect, however, Count, And would you ne'er had borne the useless You sought this fatal interview!
name! Sicgend. I did:
Where will you go? I would not send you Let it not be more fatal still:--Begone!
forth Gabor. By the same path I enter'd? Without protection. Sicgend. Yes; that's safe still :
Ulric. Leave that unto me. But loiter not in Prague;-you do not I am not alone; nor merely the vain heir know
of your domains: a thousand, ay, ten With whom you have to deal.
thousand Gabor. I know too well
Swords, hearts, and hands, are mine. And knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire! Siegend. The foresters! Farewell!
JErit Gabor. With whom the Hungarian found you first Siegend. (solus and listening) He hath
at Frankfort ? clear'd the staircase. Ah! I hear Ulric. Yes – men—who are worthy of The door sound loud behind him! He is
the name! Go tell safe!
Your senators that they look well to Prague; Safel-Oh, my father's spirit! - I am faint- Their feast of peace was early for the times;
(He leans down upon a stone-scat, near There are more spirits abroad than have the wall of the Tower, in a drooping
been laid posture.
With Wallenstein ! Enter ULRIC, with others armed, and with
Enter JOSEPHINB and IDA. weapons drawn.
Josephinc. What is't we hear ? My SicUlric. Despatch!- he's there!
gendorf! Ludwig. The Count, my Lord !
Thank Heaven, I see you safe! Ulric (recognising Siegendorf). You Siegend. Sale! here, Sir!
Ida. Yes, dear father! Siegend. Yes: if you want another victim, Siegend. No, no; I have no children:
strike! Ulric (seeing him stript of his jewels). Call me by that worst namo of parent. Where is the ruffian who hath plunder'd you? Josephine. What Vassals, despatch in search of him! You see Means my good Lord ? 'Twas as I said- the wretch hath stript my Siegend. That you have given birth father
To a demon! of jewels which might form a prince's Ida (taking Ulric's hand). Who shall heirdom!
dare say this of Ulric? Away! I'll follow you forthwith.
Siegend. Ida, beware! there's blood [Excunt all but Stralenheim and Ulric.
upon that hand.
What's this? Ida (stooping to kiss it). I'd kiss it off, Where is the villain ?
though it were mine! Siegend. There are two, sir; which Siegend. It is so! Are you in quest of ?
Ulric. Away! it is your father's! Ulric. Let us hear no more
[Erit Ulric. Of this: he must be found. You have not Ida. Oh, great God! let him escape ?
And I have loved this man ! Siegend. He's gone.
[Ida falls senseless- Josephine stands Ulric. With your connivance 3
speechless with horror. Siegend. With
Siegend. The wretch hath slain My fullest, freest aid.
Them both!- my Joscphine! we are now Ulric. Then fare you well!
alone! (Ulric is going. Would we had ever been so!-All is over Siegend. Stop! I command-cntreat – For me!-Now open wide, my sire, thy grave; implore! Oh, Ulric!
Thy curse hath dug it deeper for thy son Will you then leave me?
In mine!—The race of Siegendorf is past!
As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by
Sitting upon strange eggs. Out, urchin, out! SCENE I.-A Forest.
[Exit Bertha. Enter ARNOLD and his mother BERTRA.
Arnold (solus). Oh mother! - She is
gone, and I must do Bertha Out, hunchback!
Her bidding ; - wearily but willingly Arnold. I was born so, inother! I would fulfil it, could I only hope Bertha. Out!
A kind word in return. What shall I do? Thou Incubus! Thou Nightmare! Of seven (Arnold begins to cut wood: in doing
this he wounds one of his hands. The sole abortion !
My labour for the day is over now. Arnold. Would that I had been 80, Accursed be this blood that flows so fast; And never seen the light!
For double curses will be my meed now Bertha. I would so too!
At home. - What home? I have no home, But as thou hast - hence, hence-and do
no kin, thy best.
No kind—not made like other creatures, or That back of thine may bear its burthen; 'tis To share their sports or pleasures. Must More high, if not so broad as that of others.
I bleed too Arnold. It bears its burthen ;-but, my Like them? Oh that each drop which falls heart! Will it
to earth Sastain that which you lay upon it, mother? Would rise a snake to sting them, as they I love, or at the least, I loved you: nothing, have stung me! Save you, in nature, can love anght like me. Or that the devil, to whom they liken me, You nursed me-do not kill me.
Would aid his likeness! If I must partake Bertha. Yes-I nursed thee,
His form, why not his power? Is it because Because thou wert my first-born, and I I have not his will too? For one kind word knew not
From her who bore me, would still reconIf there would be another onlike thee, That monstrous sport of nature. But get Even to this hateful aspect. Let me wash hence,
The wound. And gather wood !
(Arnold goes to a spring and stoops Arnold. I will : but when I bring it,
to wash his hand: he starts back, Speak to me kindly. Though my brothers are They are right; and Nature's mirror So beautifal and lusty, and as free
shows me As the free chase they follow, do not what she hath made me. I will not look spurn me:
on it Our milk has been the same.
Again, and scarce dare think on't. Hideous Bertha. As is the hedgehog's,
wretch Which sucks at midnight from the whole- That I am! The very waters mock me with some dam
My horrid shadow -- like a demon placed Of the young bull, until the milkmaid finds Deep in the fountain to scare back the cattle The nipple next day sore and udder dry. From drinking therein. [lle pauses. Call not thy brothers brethren! Call me not
And shall I live on, Mother; for if I brought thee furth, it was A burthen to the earth, myself, and shame
Unto what brought me into life? Thon blood, You deem, a single moinent would have Which flowest 80 freely from a scratch, let me
Mine, and for ever, by your suicide; Try if thou wilt not in a fuller stream And yet my coming saves you. Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself Arnold. I said not On earth, to which I will restore at once You rere the demon, but that your approach This hateful compound of her atoms, and was like one. Resolve back to her elements, and take Stranger. Unless you keep company, The shape of any reptile save myself, With him (and you seem scarce used to And make a world for myriads of now
such high worms!
Society) you can't tell how he approaches; This knife! now let me prove if it will sever And for his aspect, look upon the fountain, This wither'd slip of nature's nightshade And then on me, and judge which of us my
twain Vile form- from the creation, as it hath Looks likest what the boors believe to be The green bough from the forest.
Their cloven-footed terror.
To taunt me with my born deformity?
Now 'tis set, Stranger. Were I io taunt a buffalo with And I can fall apon it. Yet one glance
this On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary Myself, and the sweet sun, which warmed with thy sublime of humps, the animals
Would revel in the compliment. And yet In vain. The birds-how joyously they sing! Both beings are more swist, more strong, So let them, for I would not be lamented :
more mighty But let their merriest notes be Arnold's In action and endurance than thyself, knell;
And all the fierce and fair of the same kind The falling leaves my monunient ; the With thee. Thy form is natural: 'twas only
Nature's mistaken largess to bestow of the near fountain my sole elegy. The gifts which are of others upon man. Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would Arnold. Give me the strength then of fall!
the buffalo's foot,
the knife, his eye is suddenly caught Near enemy; or let me have the long
The helm-less dromedary ;-and I'll bear 'The fountain moves without a wind: but Thy fiendish sarcasm with a saintly patience. shall
Stranger. I will. The ripple of a spring change my resolve? Arnold (with surprise). Thou canst? No. Yet it moves again! The waters stir, Stranger. Perhaps. Would you aught else? Not as with air, but by some subterrane Arnold. Thout mockest me. And rocking power of the internal world. Stranger. Not I. Why should I mock What's here? A mist! No more?
What all are mocking? That's poor sport [A cloud comes from the fountain. He
methinks. stands gazing upon it: it is dis- To talk to thee in human language (for pelled, and a tall black man comes Thou canst not yet speak mine), the forester towards him.
Hunts not the wretched coney, but the boar, Arnold. What would you ? Speak! Or wolf, or lion, leaving paltry game Spirit or man?
To petty burghers, who leave once a year Stranger. As man is both, why not Their walls, to fill their household-calSay both in one?
drons with Arnold. Your form is man's, and yet Such scullion-prey. The meanest gibe at You may be devil.
thee, Stranger. So many men are that Now I can mock the mightiest. Which is so called or thought, that you Arnold. Then waste not may add me
Thy time on me: I seek thee not. To which you please, without much wrong Stranger. Your thoaghts to either.
Are not far from me. Do not send me back: But come: you wish to kill yourself;— I am not so easily recalled to do pursue
Arnold. What wilt thou do for me? Arnold. You have interrupted me. Stranger. Change Stranger. What that resolution which Shapes with you, if you will, since yours
can e'er Bo interrupted? If I be the devil
Or form you to your wish in any shape.
so irks you;
Arnold. Oh! then you are indeed the The form of the Stoic demon, for
Or Sophist of yoreNought else would wittingly vear mine. Or the shape of each Victor, Stranger. I'll show thee
From Macedon's boy The brightest which the vorld e'er bore, To each high Roman's picture, and give thee
Who breathed to destrayThy choice.
Shadows of Beauty ! Arnold. On what condition 3
Shadows of Power! Stranger. There's a question !
Up to your dutyAn hour ago you would have given your soul
This is the hour! To look like other men, and now you pause (Various Phantoms arise from the To wear the form of heroes.
waters and pass in succession before Arnold. No; I will not.
the Stranger and Arnold. I must not compromise my soul.
Arnold. What do I see? Stranger. What soul,
Stranger. The black-eyed Roman, with Worth naming so, would dwell in such a The eagle's beak between those
which carcass ?
ne'er Arnold. Tis an aspiring one, whate'er Beheld a conqueror, or look'd along the tenement
The land he made not Rome's, wbile Rome In which it is mislodged. But name your
His, and all theirs who heir'd his very name. Must it be signed in blood ?
Arnold. The Phantom's bald; my quest Stranger. Not in your own.
is beauty. Could I Arnold. Whose blood then 3
Inherit but his fame with his defects! Stranger. We will talk of that hereafter. Stranger. His brow was girt with laurels But I'll be moderate with you, for I see
more than hairg. Great things within you. You shall have You see his aspect-choose it or reject.
I can but promise you his form; his famo But your own will, no contract save your Must be long sought and fought for. deeds.
Arnold. I will fight too, Are you content ?
But not as a mock-Cæsar. Let him pass; Arnold. I take thee at thy word. His aspect may be fair, but suits me not. Stranger. Now then!
Stranger. Then you are far more diffi[The Stranger approaches the fountain, cult to please and turns to Arnold.
Than Cato's sister, or than Brutus' mother, A little of your blood, Or Cleopatra at sixteen-an age Arnold. For what?
When love is not less in the eye than heart. Stranger. To mingle with the magic But be it so! Shadow, pass on ! of the waters,
[The Phantom of Julius Cæsar disappears. And make the charm effective.
Arnold. And can it Arnold (holding out his wounded arm). Be, that the man who shook the earth is Take it all.
gone Stranger. Not now. A few drops will And left no footstep? suffice for this.
Stranger. There you err. His substance (The Stranger takes some of Arnold's Left graves enough, and woes enough, and blood in his hand, and casts it into
fame the fountain.
More than enough to track his memory; Shadows of Beauty!
But for his shadow, 'tis no more than yours, Shadows of Power!
Except a little longer and less crooked Rise to your duty
l' the sun. Behold another ! This is the hour!
(A second Phantom passes. Walk lovely and pliant
Arnold. Who is he?
Arnold. He is
Stranger. Such was the curled son of
Clinias ;-wouldst thou
Invest thee with his form ?
Arnold. Would that I had
I will look further.
[The Shade of Alcibiades disappears.
Stranger. Lo! Behold again!
If there be atoms of him left, or even Arnold. What! that low, swarthy, short-Of the more solid gold that formed his urn. nosed, round-eyed satyr,
Arnold. Who was this Glory of mankind) With the wide nostrils and Silenus' aspect, Stranger. The shame The splay feet and low stature! I had Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in warbetter
Demetrius the Macedonian and Remain that which I am.
Taker of cities. Stranger. And yet he was
Arnold. Yet one shadow more. The earth's perfection of all mental beauty, Stranger (addressing the Shador). Get And personification of all virtue.
thee to Lamia's lap! But you reject him ?
[The Shade of Demetrius Poliorcetes Arnold. If his form could bring me
vanishes: another riscs. That which redeemed it-no.
Stranger. l'll fit you still, Stranger. I have no power
Fear not, my Hunchback. If the shadows of To promise that; but you may try, and That which existed please not your nice find it
taste, Easier in such a form, or in your own. I'll animate the ideal marble, till
Arnold. No. I was not born for philosophy, Your soul be reconciled to her new garment. Though I have that about me which has Arnold. Content! I will fix here. need on't.
Stranger. I must commend Let him fleet on
Your choice. The god-like son of the SeaStranger. Be air, thou hemlock-drinker!
Goddess, [T'he Shadow of Socrates disappears: The anshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks another rises.
As beautiful and clear as the amber-waves Arnold. What's here? whose broad brow Of rich Pactolus rolled o’er sands of gold, and whose curly beard
Softened by intervening crystal, and And manly aspect look like Hercules, Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, Save that his jocund eye hath more of All vowed to Sperchius as they were-beBacchus
hold them! Than the sad Purger of the infernal world, And him-as he stood by Polixena, Leaning dejected on his club of conquest, With sanctioned and with softened love, As if he knew the worthlessness of thoso
before For whom he had fought.
The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride, Stranger. It was the man who lost With some remorse within for Hector slain The ancient world for love.
And Priam weeping, mingled with deep Arnold. I cannot blame him,
passion Since I have risked my soul because I For the sweet downcast virgin, whose
find not That which he exchanged the earth for. Trembled in his who slew her brother. So Stranger. Since so far
He stood i' the temple! Luok upon him as You seem congenial, will you wear his Greece look'd her last upon her best, the features ?
instant Arnold. No. As you leave me choice, I Ere Paris' arrow flew. am difficult,
Arnold. I gaze upon him If but to see the heroes I should ne'er As if I were his soul, whose form shall soon Have seen else on this side of the dim Envelop mine. shore
Stranger. You havo done well. The Whence they float back before us.
greatest Stranger. Hence, Triumvir!
Deformity should only barter with Thy Cleopatra 's waiting.
The extremest beauty, if the prorerb's true [The Shade of Anthony disappears Of mortals, that extremes meet. another rises.
Arnold. Come! Be quick! Arnold. Who is this?
I am impatient. Who truly looketh like a demigod, Stranger. As a youthful beauty Blooming and bright, with golden hair, Before her glass. You both see what is not, and stature,
But dream it is what must be. If not more high than mortal, yet immortal Arnold. Must I wait ? In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, Stranger. No; that were pity. But a Which he wears as the Sun his rays-a
word or two: something
His stature is twelve cubits : would you so far Which shines from him, and yet is but the Outstep these times, and be a Titan? Or flashing
(To talk canonically) wax a Son Emanation of a thing more glorious still. Of Anak? Was he c'er human only ?
Arnold. Why not? Stranger. Let the carth speak,
Stranger. Glorious ambition!