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Something beyond our outward sufferings (though
Then canst thou wish for that which must break mine? My father's name-been still upheld; and, more
WERNER (approaching her slowly).
But for thee I had been-no matter what,
JOSEPHINE (abruptly). My son our son-our ric, Been clasp'd again in these long-empty arms.
Comfort! We have struggled long; and they who strive Who, in this garb, the heir of princely lands?
With fortune win or weary her at last,
So that they find the goal, or cease to feel Further. Take comfort,-we shall find our boy.
We were in sight of him, of every thing
We are not baffled.
Are we not pennyless?
We ne'er were wealthy.
But I was born to wealth, and rank, and power;
The fluttering bird, hath ere this time outstept me,
Of that which lifts him up to princes in
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?
Ponder'd not thus upon these worldly things,
An exile's daughter with an outcast son
Your father did not think so, though 't was noble; But had my birth been all my claim to match With thee, I should have deem'd it what it is.
And what is that in thine eyes?
Has done in our behalf,-nothing.
All which it
Or worse; for it has been a canker in
Whate'er thou might'st have been, to me thou art,
Thy birth, thy hopes, thy pride; nought, save thy sorrows"
My better argel! such as I have ever found thee; This rashness, or this weakness of my temper,
Ne'er raised a thought to injure thee or thine.
Trust me, when, in my two-and-twentieth spring,
I thought so all along; such natural yearnings
Who can it be at this lone hour? we have
And poverty hath none,
You appear to have drunk enough already,
A knocking! And if you had not, I've no wine to offer,
Save those who come to make it poorer still.
Well, I am prepared.
Why, what should bring me here?
[WERNER puts his hand into his bosom, as if to I know not, though I think that I could guess
search for some weapon.
That which will send you hence.
Patience, dear Werner!
You don't know what has happen'd, then?
How should we?
The river has o'erflow'd.
Alas! we have known
That to our sorrow, for these five days, since
Are you It keeps us here.
Shall I say more? You have been a guest this month
My name is Werner
A goolly name. a very worthy name,
I have a cousin in the lazaretto
Of Hamburgh, who has got a wife who bore
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.
Poor creatures! are you sure?
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 bod
What ho, there! bustle! Without there, Herman, Weilburg, Peter, Conrad! [Gives directions to different servants who enter.
A nobleman sleeps here to-night-see that
His excellency will sup, doubtless?
I cannot tell; but I should think the pillow
It matters little.
I think that all the world are grown anonymous, Since no one cares to tell me what he 's call'd! Pray, has his excellency a large suite?
I did not count them.
We came up by mere accident, and just
In time to drag him through his carriage window.
Well, what would I give to save a great man!
Now, how much do you reckon on?
I have not yet put up myself to sale:
In the mean time, my best reward would be
I don't much like this fellow-close and dry
He seems, two things which suit me not; however, Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him not,
I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity.
Design'd for him you rescued, will be found
In fitter order for a sickly guest.
You look one still. All soldiers are
Or should be comrades, even though enemies.
[GABOR pulls out his purse.
A goodly fellow, by his looks, though worn,
I scarce know which most quickly; but he seems
'Tis here! the supernaculum! twenty years
Which epoch makes
Young women and old wine, and 't is great pity
Fair!-Well, I trust your taste in wine is equal To that you show for beauty; but I pledge you Nevertheless.
Is not the lovely woman
I met in the adjacent hall, who, with
An air, and port, and eye, which would have better Beseem'd this palace in its brightest days