Death! and slow tortures to the hardy fool
Who dares take such large charter from our smiles!
Conrad, we would be private. Sigifred,
Off! And none pass this way on pain of death!
[Exeunt CONRAD and SIGIFRED.

Ludolph. This was but half expected, my good sire,
Yet I am grieved at it, to the full height,
As though my hopes of favour had been whole.
Otho. How you indulge yourself! What can you
hope for?

Ludolph. Nothing, my liege; I have to hope for nothing.

I come to greet you as a loving son,

And then depart, if I may be so free,

Seeing that blood of yours in my warm veins.
Has not yet mitigated into milk.

Otho. What would you, sir?
Ludolph.
So please you, let me unmolested pass
This Conrad's gates to the wide air again.
I want no more. A rebel wants no more.

A lenient banishment.

Otho. And shall I let a rebel loose again To muster kites and eagles 'gainst my head? No, obstinate boy, you shall be kept caged up, Served with harsh food, with scum for Sunday drink. Ludolph. Indeed!

Otho.

And chains too heavy for your life I'll choose a gaoler whose swart monstrous face Shall be a hell to look upon, and she

Ludolph. Ha!

Otho. Shall be your fair Auranthe.
Ludolph.

Otho. To-day you marry her.

Amaze! Amaze!

Ludolph.
This is a sharp jest!
Otho. No. None at all. When have I said a lie ?
Ludolph. If I sleep not, I am a waking wretch.
Otho. Not a word more. Let me embrace my child.
Ludolph. I dare not. 'T would pollute so good
a father!

O heavy crime! - that your son's blinded eyes
Could not see all his parent's love aright,

As now I see it! Be not kind to me-
Punish me not with favour.

Otho.

Are you sure,

Ludolph, you have no saving plea in store?
Ludolph. My father, none !

Otho.

Then you astonish me. Ludolph. No, I have no plea. Disobedience, Rebellion, obstinacy, blasphemy,

Are all my counsellors. If they can make
My crooked deeds show good and plausible,
Then grant me loving pardon, but not else,
Good gods! not else, in any way, my liege!
Otho. You are a most perplexing, noble boy.
Ludolph. You not less a perplexing noble father.
Otho. Well, you shall have free passport through
the gates.

Farewell!

Ludolph. Farewell! and by these tears believe, And still remember, I repent in pain

All my misdeeds!

Otho.
Ludolph, I will! I will!
But, Ludolph, ere you go, I would inquire
If you, in all your wandering, ever met
A certain Arab haunting in these parts.

Ludolph. No, my good lord, I cannot say I did.

Otho. Make not your father blind before his time;
Nor let these arms paternal hunger more
For an embrace, to dull the appetite

Of my great love for thee, my supreme child!
Come close, and let me breathe into thine ear.
I knew you through disguise. You are the Arab!
You can't deny it.

Ludolph.

[Embracing him. Happiest of days!

Otho. We'll make it so.
Ludolph.

'Stead of one fatted calf

Ten hecatombs shall bellow out their last,

Smote 'twixt the horns by the death-stunning mace
Of Mars, and all the soldiery shall feast
Nobly as Nimrod's masons, when the towers
Of Nineveh new kiss'd the parted clouds!

Otho. Large as a God speak out, where all is thine.
Ludolph. Ay, father, but the fire in my sad breast
Is quench'd with inward tears! I must rejoice
For you, whose wings so shadow over me
In tender victory, but for myself

I still must mourn. The fair Auranthe mine!

Too great a boon! I prythee let me ask

What more than I know of could so have changed Your purpose touching her?

Otho.

At a word, this:

In no deed did you give me more offence

Than your rejection of Erminia.

To my appalling, I saw too good proof

Of your keen-eyed suspicion,-she is naught.
Ludolph. You are convinc'd?

Otho.

Ay, spite of her sweet looks.

O that my brother's daughter should so fall!

VOL. III.

18

Her fame has pass'd into the grosser lips

Of soldiers in their cups.

Ludolph.

'Tis very sad.

Otho. No more of her. Auranthe-Ludolph, come! This marriage be the bond of endless peace! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The entrance of GERSA'S Tent in the Hungarian Camp.

Enter ERMINIA.

Erminia. Where-where-where shall I find a

messenger?

A trusty soul-a good man, in the camp?
Shall I go myself? Monstrous wickedness!
O cursed Conrad! devilish Auranthe!
Here is proof palpable as the bright sun!
O for a voice to reach the Emperor's ears!
[Shouts in the Camp..

Enter an HUNGARIAN CAPTAIN.

Captain. Fair prisoner, you hear these joyous

shouts ?

The King-aye, now our King,-but still your slave,
Young Gersa, from a short captivity

Has just return'd. He bids me say, bright dame,
That even the homage of his ranged chiefs.
Cures not his keen impatience to behold
Such beauty once again. What ails you, lady?
Erminia. Say, is not that a German, yonder?
There!

Captain. Methinks by his stout bearing he

should be

Yes it is Albert; a brave German knight,

And much in the Emperor's favour.

I would fain

Erminia. Inquire of friends and kinsfolk,-how they fared Brave soldier, as you pass To royal Gersa with my humble thanks,

In these rough times.

Will you send yonder knight to me?

Captain.

I will.

[Exit.

Erminia. Yes, he was ever known to be a man Frank, open, generous; Albert I may trust. O proof! proof! proof! Albert's an honest man; Not Ethelbert the monk, if he were here, Would I hold more trustworthy. Now

Albert.

Enter ALBert.

Good gods!

Lady Erminia! are you prisoner

In this beleaguer'd camp? or are you here
Of your own will? You pleased to send for me.

By Venus, 'tis a pity I knew not

Your plight before, and, by her son, I swear

To do you every service you can ask.

What would the fairest-?

Erminia.

Albert. I have. Well?

Erminia.

Albert, will you swear?

Albert, you have fame to lose.

If men, in court and camp, lie not outright,
You should be, from a thousand, chosen forth
To do an honest deed. Shall I confide-?

Albert. Aye, anything to me, fair creature. Do; Dictate my task. Sweet woman,