OTHO THE GREAT.

A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

OTHO THE GREAT, Emperor of Germany.
LUDOLPH, his Son.
CONRAD, Duke of Franconia.
ALBERT, a Knight, favoured by Otho.
SIGIFRED, an Officer, friend of Ludolph. ·
THEODORE, ) officers.
GONFRID, CS
ETHELBERT, an Abbot.
GERSA, Prince of Hungary.
An Hungarian Captain.
Physician.
Page.
Nobles, Knights, Attendants, and Soldiers.

SCENE.

The Castle of Friedburg, its vicinity, and the

Hungarian Camp.

TIME. One Day.

ACT I.
SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Castle.

Enter CONRAD.

O, I am safe emerged from these broils !

Amid the wreck of thousands I am whole; For every crime I have a laurel-wreath, For every lie a lordship. Not yet has . My ship of fortune furld her silken sails, Let her glide on! This danger'd neck is saved,

I“At Shanklin he under. four acts were completed. It took a difficult task; I en was then he required to know gaged to furnish him with at once all the events that the title, characters, and dra- were to occupy the fifth act; matic conduct of a tragedy, I explained them to him, but, and he was to enwrap it in after a patient hearing and poetry. The progress of this some thought, he insisted that work was curious, for while I many incidents in it were too sat opposite to him, he caught humorous, or, as he termed my description of each scene them, too melodramatic. He entire, with the characters to wrote the fifth act in accordbe brought forward, the events, ance with his own views, and and everything connected with so contented was I with his it. Thus he went on, scene poetry that at the time, and after scene, never knowing for a long time after, I thought nor inquiring into the scene he was in the right." which was to follow, until CHARLES BROWN M$.

VOL. III.

15

By dexterous policy, from the rebel's axe;
And of my ducal palace not one stone
Is bruised by the Hungarian petards.
Toil hard, ye slaves, and from the miser-earth
Bring forth once more my bullion, treasured deep,
With all my jewell'd salvers, silver and gold,
And precious goblets that make rich the wine.
But why do I stand babbling to myself?
Where is Auranthe ? I have news for her.
Shall -

Enter AURANTHE.
Auranthe. Conrad! what tidings ? Good, if I

may guess From your alert eyes and high-lifted brows. What tidings of the battle ? Albert ? Ludolph? Otho ?

Conrad. You guess aright. And, sister, slurring o'er
Our by-gone quarrels, I confess my heart
Is beating with a child's anxiety,
To make our golden fortune known to you.

Auranthe. So serious ?
Conrad.

Yes, so serious, that before
I utter even the shadow of a hint
Concerning what will make that sin-worn cheek
Blush joyous blood through every lineament,
You must make here a solemn vow to me.

Auranthe. I pr’ythee, Conrad, do not overact The hypocrite. What vow would you impose ? Conrad. Trust me for once. That you may be

assured 'Tis not confiding in a broken reed, A poor court-bankrupt, outwitted and lost, Revolve these facts in your acutest mood,