When we met in the garden, what except Discovery in the act could make me know His death? Or had the Prince's household been Then summon'd, would the cry for the police Been left to such a stranger? Or should I Have loiter'd on the way? Or could you, Werner, The object of the Baron's hate and fears. Have fled - unless by many an hour before Suspicion woke? I sought and fathom'd you- | Doubting if you were false or feeble; I Perceived you were the latter; and yet so Confiding have I found you, that I doubted At times your weakness. Siegend. Parricide! no less Than common stabber! What deed of my life, Or thought of mine, could make you deem me fit For your accomplice? Ulric. Father, do not raise The devil you cannot lay, between us. This Could I be calm? Think you that I have heard This fellow's tale without some feeling? you Have taught me feeling for you and myself; For whom or what else did you ever teach it? Siegend. Oh! my dead father's curse! 'tis working now. Ulric. Let it work on! the grave will keep it down! Ashes are feeble foes: it is more easy Yet hear me still! If you condemn me, yet often To listen to him! Who proclaim'd to me Wolves prowl in company. He hath the key That there were crimes made venial by the|(As I too) of the opposite door which leads Into the turret. Now then! or once more To be the father of fresh crimes no less Than of the criminal! Ho! Gabor! Gabor! [Exit into the turret, closing the door after him. SCENE II-The Interior of the Turret. GABOR and SIEGENDORF. Gabor. Who calls? Siegend. I-Siegendorf! Take these, and fly! Lose not a moment! [Tears off a diamond-star and other jewels, and thrusts them into Gabor's hand. Gabor. What am I to do With these? Siegend. Whate'er you will: sell them, or hoard, And prosper; but delay not—or you are lost! Gabor. You pledged your honour for my safety! Siegend. And Must thus redeem it. Fly! I am not master, - Ulric. What! remain to be Denounced-dragg'd, it may be, în chatne; and all By your inherent weakness, half-humanity, Farewell, then! Recollect, however, Count, And would you ne'er had borne the useless You sought this fatal interview! Siegend. I did: Let it not be more fatal still:-Begone! But loiter not in Prague;—you do not|I With whom you have to deal. Gabor. I know too wellAnd knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire! Farewell! Exit Gabor. Siegend. (solus and listening) He hath clear'd the staircase. Ah! I hear The door sound loud behind him! He is safe! Safe! Oh, my father's spirit! I am faint― [He leans down upon a stone-seat, near the wall of the Tower, in a drooping posture. Enter ULRIC, with others armed, and with Ulrio. Despatch!—he's there! here, Sir! You name! Where will you go? I would not send you forth Without protection. Ulric. Leave that unto me. am not alone; nor merely the vain heir Of your domains: a thousand, ay, ten thousand Swords, hearts, and hands, are minc. With whom the Hungarian found you first Ulric. Yes-men-who are worthy of Your senators that they look well to Prague; With Wallenstein! Enter JOSEPHINE and IDA. Josephine. What is't we hear? My Slegendorf! Thank Heaven, I see you safe! Ida. Yes, dear father! Siegend. No, no; I have no children [Ida falls senseless-Josephine stands speechless with horror. Siegend. The wretch hath slain Them both!-my Josephino! we are now alone! Would we had ever been so!-All is over ACT I SCENE I-A Forcst. Enter ARNOLD and his mother BERTHA. Bertha. Our, hunchback! Thou Incubus! Thou Nightmare! Of seven sons The sole abortion! Arnold. Would that I had been so, And never seen the light! Bertha. I would so too! But as thou hast-hence, hence - and do thy best. That back of thine may bear its burthen; 'tis Sustain that which you lay upon it, mother? As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by Sitting upon strange eggs. Out, urchin, out! [Exit Bertha. Arnold (solus). Oh mother! - She is gone, and I must do Her bidding; wearily but willingly I would fulfil it, could I only hope A kind word in return. What shall I do? [Arnold begins to cut wood: in doing this he wounds one of his hands. My labour for the day is over now. Accursed be this blood that flows so fast; For double curses will be my meed now At home. What home? I have no home, no kin, No kind-not made like other creatures, or To share their sports or pleasures. Must I bleed too them? Oh that cach drop which falls to earth Like Would rise a snake to sting them, as they have stung me! Or that the devil, to whom they liken me, Would aid his likeness! If I must partake His form, why not his power? Is it because Because thou wert my first-born, and II have not his will too? For one kind word knew not If there would be another unlike thee, That monstrous sport of nature. But get hence, And gather wood! Arnold. I will: but when I bring it, Speak to me kindly. Though my brothers are So beautiful and lusty, and as free As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me: Our milk has been the same. Bertha. As is the hedgehog's, Which sucks at midnight from the whole some dam Of the young bull, until the milkmaid finds The nipple next day sore and udder dry. Call not thy brothers brethren! Call me not Mother; for if I brought thee forth, it was From her who bore me, would still recon Unto what brought me into life? Thou blood, | You deem, a single moment would bave Which flowest so freely from a scratch, let me Try if thou wilt not in a fuller stream This knife! now let me prove if it will sever my Vile form-from the creation, as it hath [Arnold places the knife in the ground, Now 'tis set, In vain. The birds-how joyously they sing! The falling leaves my monument; the murmur Of the near fountain my sole elegy. [As he rushes to throw himself upon The fountain moves without a wind: but The ripple of a spring change my resolve? made you Mine, and for ever, by your suicide; You were the demon, but that your approach Stranger. Unless you keep company With him (and you seem scarce used to such high Society) you can't tell how he approaches; Looks likest what the boors believe to be Arnold. Do you – dare you To taunt me with my born deformity? Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary In action and endurance than thyself, the buffalo's foot, When he spurns high the dust,beholding his Arnold (with surprise). Thou canst? Stranger. Not I. Why should I mock What all are mocking? That's poor sport methinks. [A cloud comes from the fountain. He Arnold. What would you? Speak! Spirit or man? Stranger. As man is both, why not Say both in one? Arnold. Your form is man's, and yet You may be devil. Stranger. So many men are that Which is so called or thought, that you may add me To which you please, without much wrong to either. But come: you wish to kill yourself; Arnold. Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for Nought else would wittingly wear mine. Stranger. I'll show thee The brightest which the world e'er bore, and give thee Thy choice. Arnold. On what condition? Stranger. There's a question! An hour ago you would have given your soul To look like other men, and now you pause To wear the form of heroes. Arnold. No; I will not. I must not compromise my soul. Worth naming so, would dwell in such a carcass? Arnold. 'Tis an aspiring one, whate'er the tenement In which it is mislodged. But name your compact: Must it be signed in blood? Stranger. Not in your own. Stranger. We will talk of that hercafter. But I'll be moderate with you, for I see Great things within you. You shall have no bond But your own will, no contract save your deeds. Are you content? Arnold. I take thee at thy word. [The Stranger approaches the fountain, A little of your blood, And make the charm effective. Arnold (holding out his wounded arm). Stranger. Not now. A few drops will [The Stranger takes some of Arnold's Shadows of Power! Rise to your duty This is the hour! Walk lovely and pliant From the depth of this fountain, Bestrides the Hartz-mountain. That our eyes may behold The model in air Of the form I will mould, Bright as the Iris | The form of the Stoic To each high Roman's picture, Shadows of Power! Up to your dutyThis is the hour! [Various Phantoms arise from the waters and pass in succession before the Stranger and Arnold. Arnold. What do I see? Stranger. The black-eyed Roman, with The eagle's beak between those eyes which ne'er Beheld a conqueror, or look'd along The land he made not Rome's, while Rome became His, and all theirs who heir'd his very name. Arnold. The Phantom's bald; my quest is beauty. Could I Inherit but his fame with his defects! Stranger. His brow was girt with laurels more than hairs. You see his aspect-choose it or reject. But not as a mock- Cæsar. Let him pass; Than Cato's sister, or than Brutus' mother, [The Phantom of Julius Cæsar disappears. Arnold. And can it Be, that the man who shook the earth is gone And left no footstep? Stranger. There you err. His substance Left graves enough, and woes enough, and fame More than enough to track his memory; [A second Phantom passes. Arnold. Who is he? Stranger. He was the fairest and the bravest of Athenians. Look upon him well. More lovely than the last. How beautiful! Invest thee with his form? Such his desire is, [Pointing to Arnold. | Been born with it! But since I may choose When ether is spann'd ;— Such my command! Demons who wore Demons heroic- further, I will look further. [The Shade of Alcibiades disappears |