Wer. The chase of Fortune; now she hath o'ertaken Wer. But I was born to wealth, and rank, and power; Enjoy'd them, loved them, and, alas! abused them, Left the path open, yet not without snares. The fluttering bird, hath ere this time outstept me, Of that which lifts him up to princes in Alas! Who would read in this form The high soul of the son of a long line? Who, in this garb, the heir of princely lands? Who, in this sunken, sickly eye, the pride Of rank and ancestry? in this worn cheek And famine-hollow'd brow, the lord of halls Which daily feast a thousand vassals? Jos. You Ponder'd not thus upon these worldly things, My Werner! when you deign'd to choose for bride The foreign daughter of a wandering exile. Wer. An exile's daughter with an outcast son Has done in our behalf,- nothing. All which it How, nothing? Or, if that seem too humble, tried by commerce, Wer. (ironically). And been an Hanseatic burgher? Excellent! [art Iden. The river has o'erflow'd. Jos. Jos. Who can it be at this lone hour? Few visitors. Iden. A goodly name, a very worthy name As e'er was gilt upon a trader's board: I have a cousin in the lazaretto Of Hamburgh, who has got a wife who bore Oh, yes; we are, but distantly. Alas! we have known That to our sorrow for these five days; since It keeps us here. Iden. But what you don't know is, That a great personage, who fain would cross Against the stream and three postilions' wishes, Is drown'd below the ford, with five post-horses, A monkey, and a mastiff, and a valet. Jos. Poor creatures! are you sure? Iden. Yes, of the monkey, And the valet, and the cattle; but as yet We know not if his excellency's dead Or no; your noblemen are hard to drown, As it is fit that men in office should be; But what is certain is, that he has swallow'd Enough of the Oder to have burst two peasants; And now a Saxon and Hungarian traveller, Who, at their proper peril, snatch'd him from The whirling river, have sent on to crave A lodging, or a grave, according as It may turn out with the live or dead body. Have you not learn'd his name? My Josephine, [Aside to his wife. Gab. If I intrude, I crave— Oh, no intrusion! be. A sort of mysterious horror is thrown round his impalpability, in the tale; but, in the drama, he is only a sentimental, moody, high-mettled soldier of fortune, whose appearances and disappearances are alike singularly inopportune, and who ends in a mere mercenary. His character is, we think, decidedly a failure. — Ecl. Rev.] This is the palace; this a stranger like Iden. How many? Gab. Sufficient. I did not count them. We came up by mere accident, and just In time to drag him through his carriage window. Iden. Well, what would I give to save a great man! No doubt you'll have a swingeing sum as recompense. Gab. Perhaps. Iden. Now, how much do you reckon on? Gab. I have not yet put up myself to sale: In the mean time, my best reward would be A glass of your Hockcheimer—a green glass, Wreath'd with rich grapes and Bacchanal devices, O'erflowing with the oldest of your vintage; For which I promise you, in case you e'er Run hazard of being drown'd, (although I own It seems, of all deaths, the least likely for you,) I'll pull you out for nothing. Quick, my friend, And think, for every bumper I shall quaff, A wave the less may roll above your head. They lay their hands on. Wer. And I nothing. You say you were a 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; Gab. Is not the lovely woman I met in the adjacent hall, who, with An air, and port, and eye, which would have better Iden. And that Iden. That's true; but pity, as you know, does One's heart commit these follies; and besides, They had some valuables left at that time, Which paid their way up to the present hour; And so I thought they might as well be lodged Here as at the small tavern, and I gave them The run of some of the oldest palace rooms. They served to air them, at the least as long As they could pay for fire-wood. Gab. Iden. Exceeding poor. Gab. If I mistake not. Poor souls! And yet unused to poverty, Whither were they going? Ay, Iden. Oh! Heaven knows where, unless to heaven itself. Some days ago that look'd the likeliest journey For Werner. Gab. Werner! I have heard the name: But it may be a feign'd one. Iden. I must be at my post: will you not join me, Gab. The rushing river from his gurgling throat. He has valets now enough: they stood aloof then, Re-enter WERNER. Wer. (to himself). I heard a noise of wheels and voices. How All sounds now jar me! Still here! Is he not A spy of my pursuer's? [Perceiving GABOR. His frank offer So suddenly, and to a stranger, wore For friends are slow at such. Gab. Sir, you seem rapt; And yet the time is not akin to thought. These old walls will be noisy soon. The baron, Or count (or whatsoe'er this half-drown'd noble May be), for whom this desolate village and Its lone inhabitants show more respect Than did the elements, is come. Iden. (without). This way This way, your excellency :- - have a care, The staircase is a little gloomy, and Stral. I'll rest me here a moment. Wer. (aside). Stral. Ho! a chair! [STRALENHEIM sits down. "Tis he! Who are these strangers? Iden. One says he is no stranger. Wer. (aloud and hastily). I'm better now. Pensive. Will it not please you to pass on? An outward show of thought. I will to rest. (Aside.) Somewhat tatter'd, And devilish damp, but fine enough by torch-light; Please you, my good lord, And that's enough for your right noble blood Who says that? Iden. Why, no one spoke of you, or to you! — but To recognise. Gab. [Pointing to Gabor. I seek not to disturb Gab. Till I seek no more, and scarce deserve My own from his, not to alarm him into At Hamburgh those who would have made assurance To have been lord of Siegendorf, and parted [He pauses, and looks at WERNER; then resumes. Be watch'd. This man must |