Josephine. Not sa.

You are the latest stranger, and command

All places here.

have a care

Remember what depends on a rash word! Ulric (to Josephine). Fear not![Exit Josephine. Stralenh. Ulric, I think that I may trust you?

You saved my life- and acts like these beget Unbounded confidence.

Ulric. Say on.

Stralenh. Mysterious

And long engender'd circumstances (not
To be now fully enter'd on) have made
This man obnoxious-perhaps fatal to me.
Ulric. Who? Gabor, the Hungarian?
Stralenh. No-this "Werner”—
With the false name and habit.

Ulric. How can this be?

He is the poorest of the poor-and yellow Sickness sits cavern'd in his hollow eye: The man is helpless.

Stralenh.

He is 'tis no matterBut if he be the man I deem (and that He is so, all around us here—and much That is not here -confirm my apprehension), He must be made secure, ere twelve hours further.

Ulric. And what have I to do with this?
Stralenh. I have sent

To Frankfort, to the governor, my friend—
(I have the authority to do so by
An order of the house of Brandenburgh)
For a fit escort-but this cursed flood
Bars all access, and may do for some hours.
Ulric. It is abating.
Stralenh. That is well.
Ulric. But how

Ulric. I accept the omen.

Stralenh. Then claim a recompense from it and me,

Such as both may make worthy your accept

ance

And services to me and mine for ever. Ulric. And this sole, sick, and miserable wretch

This way-worn stranger - stands between you and

This Paradise?- (As Adam did between
The devil and his.)—[Aside.]
Stralenh. He doth.

Ulric. Hath he no right?

Stralenh. Right! none. A disinherited prodigal,

Who for these twenty years disgraced his lineage

In all his acts - but chiefly by his marriage, And living amidst commerce - fetching burghers,

And dabbling merchants, in a mart of Jews Ulric. He has a wife, then?

Stralenh. You'd be sorry to Call such your mother. You have seen the woman

He calls his wife.

Ulric. Is she not so ?
Stralenh. No more

Than he's your father:-an Italian girl,
The daughter of a banish'd man, who lives
On love and poverty with this same Werner.
Ulric. They are childless, then?
Stralenh. There is or was a bastard,
Whom the old man—the grandsire (as old

age

Is ever doting) took to warm his bosom, As it went chilly downward to the grave: But the imp stands not in my path — he has fled.

No one knows whither; and if he had not, His claims alone were too contemptible To stand.-Why do you smile?

Ulric. At your vain fears: A poor man almost in his grasp-a child Of doubtful birth can startle a grandee! Stralenh. All's to be fear'd, where all is to be gain'd.

Ulric. True; and aught done to save or to obtain it..

Stralenh. You have harp'd the very string next to my heart. I may depend upon you?

Ulric. Twere too late to doubt it. Stralenh. Let no foolish pity shake Your bosom (for the appearance of the man Is pitiful) he is a wretch, as likely To have robb'd me as the fellow more

Without approach to mine; and, to say truth,

I think too well of blood allied to mine, To deem he would descend to such an act; Besides, he was a soldier, and a brave one Once-though too rash.

Ulric. And they, my Lord, we know By our experience, never plunder till They knock the brains out first- which makes them heirs,

Not thieves. The dead, who feel nought, can lose nothing,

What the devil would you have? You don't believe me

Guilty of this base theft?

Werner. No, no-I cannot.

Gabor. Why, that's my heart of honour! yon young gallant

Your miserly intendant and dense nobleAll-all suspected me; and why? because I am the worst-clothed and least named amongst them,

quest

And let me know his slightest movement towards

Concealment or escape?

Ulric. You may be sure

helpless

Both still more than myself—

Werner. How know you that?

Gabor. You're right; I ask for shelter at the hand

Which I call helpless; if you now deny it, I were well paid. But you, who seem to have proved

The wholesome bitterness of life,know well,

than I

Of the New World, the Spaniard boasts

about,

Upon his heart o'nights.

Werner. What do you mean?

Gabor. Just what I say; I thought my speech was plain:

You are no thief-nor I-and, as true men, Should aid each other.

Werner. It is a damned world, sir. Gabor. So is the nearest of the two next, as

The priests say (and no doubt they should know best),

Therefore I'll stick by this-as being loth
To suffer martyrdom, at least with such
An epitaph as larceny upon my tomb.
It is but a night's lodging which I crave;
To-morrow I will try the waters, as
The Dove did, trusting that they have
abated.

Werner. Abated? Is there hope of that?
Gabor. There was

At noontide.

Werner. Then we may be safe. Gabor. Are you

In peril?

Werner. Poverty is ever so.

Gabor. That I know by long practice.
Will you not

Promise to make mine less?
Werner. Your poverty?

Gabor. No-you don't look a leech for

that disorder;

I meant my peril only: you've a roof, And I have none; I merely seek a covert.

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, now; but take

This ring. [He gives Werner a jewel.
Werner. A gem! It was my father's!
Ulric. And
With this you

As such is now your own.

must

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.

I go?

But show me any place. I do assure you, If there be faith in man, I am most guiltless: Think if it were your own case!

Werner (aside). Oh, just God!
Thy hell is not hereafter! Am I dust still?
Gabor. I see you're moved; and it shows
well in you:

I may live to requite it.
Werner. Are you not
A spy of Stralenheim's?

Gabor. Not I! and if

I were, what is there to espy in you: Although I recollect his frequent question About you and your spouse might lead to

it might not

Lead even into the chambers of your foe? So strangely were contrived these galleries By our Teutonic fathers in old days, When man built less against the elements Than his next neighbour. You must not advance

Beyond the two first windings; if you do (Albeit I never pass'd them), I'll not answer For what you may be led to.

And gilded crosiers, and cross'd arms, and cowls,

And helms, and twisted armour, and long swords,

All the fantastic furniture of windows, Dim with brave knights and holy hermits, whose

Likeness and fame alike rest on some

panes

Of crystal, which each rattling wind proclaims

As frail as any other life or glory.
He's gone, however.

Werner. Whom do you seek?
Idenst. A villain!

Werner. Why need you come so far, then?
Idenst. In the search

Of him who robb'd the Baron.

Werner. Are you sure

You have divined the man?
Idenst. As sure as you
Stand there; but where's he gone?
Werner. Who?

Idenst. He we sought.

Werner. You see he is not here.
Idenst. And yet we traced him
Up to this hall: are you accomplices,
Or deal you in the black art?