Enter ETHELBERT, leading in ERMINIA.
Thou cursed abbot, why

Hast brought pollution to our holy rites?
Hast thou no fear of hangman, or the faggot?
Ludolph. What portent-what strange prodigy

is this? Conrad. Away!

Ethelbert.

Erminia.

You, Duke?

Albert has surely fail'd me!

Away, thou guilty thing!

Look at the Emperor's brow upon me bent!

Ethelbert. A sad delay!

Conrad.

Ethelbert. You again, Duke? Justice, most noble

Otho!

You go to your sister there, and plot again,

A quick plot, swift as thought to save your heads;
For lo! the toils are spread around your den,
The world is all agape to see dragg'd forth
Two ugly monsters.

Ludolph.

Conrad. I cannot guess.
Ethelbert.

What means he, my lord?

Best ask your lady sister,

Foul barbarian, cease ;

Whether the riddle puzzles her beyond

The power of utterance.

Conrad.

The Princess faints!

Ludolph.

Erminia. Alas!

Stab him! O, sweetest wife! [Attendants bear off AURANTHE.

Ethelbert. Your wife?

Ludolph.

Ay, Satan! does that yerk ye?

Ethelbert. Wife! so soon!

Ludolph.

Ay, wife! Oh, impudence!

Thou bitter mischief! Venomous bad priest!
How dar'st thou lift those beetle brows at me.
Me-the prince Ludolph, in this presence here,
Upon my marriage-day, and scandalize
My joys with such opprobrious surprise?
Wife! Why dost linger on that syllable,
As if it were some demon's name pronounc'd
To summon harmful lightning, and make yawn
The sleepy thunder? Hast no sense of fear?
No ounce of man in thy mortality?

Tremble! for, at my nod, the sharpen'd axe
Will make thy bold tongue quiver to the roots,
Those grey lids wink, and thou not know it, monk!
Ethelbert. O, poor deceived Prince! I pity thee!
Great Otho! I claim justice-

Ludolph.

Thou shalt have't! Thine arms from forth a pulpit of hot fire Shall sprawl distracted? O that that dull cowl Were some most sensitive portion of thy life, That I might give it to my hounds to tear! Thy girdle some fine zealous-pained nerve To girth my saddle! And those devil's beads Each one a life, that I might every day Crush one with Vulcan's hammer!

Otho.

Peace, my son ;

You far outstrip my spleen in this affair.
Let us be calm, and hear the abbot's plea
For this intrusion.

Ludolph.

I am silent, sire.

Otho. Conrad, see all depart not wanted here.

[Exeunt Knights, Ladies, &c.

Ludolph, be calm. Ethelbert, peace awhile.
This mystery demands an audience

Of a just judge, and that will Otho be.

Ludolph. Why has he time to breathe another word ?

Otho. Ludolph, old Ethelbert, be sure, comes not To beard us for no cause; he 's not the man To cry himself up an ambassador

Without credentials.

Ludolph.

I'll chain up myself.

Otho. Old abbot, stand here forth. Lady Erminia, Sit. And now, abbot! what have you to say? Our ear is open. First we here denounce Hard penalties against thee, if't be found The cause for which you have disturb'd us here, Making our bright hours muddy, be a thing Of little moment.

Ethelbert.

See this innocent!

Otho! thou father of the people call'd,

Is her life nothing? Her fair honour nothing?
Her tears from matins until even-song

Nothing? Her burst heart nothing? Emperor!
Is this your gentle niece-the simplest flower
Of the world's herbal-this fair lily blanch'd
Still with the dews of piety, this meek lady
Here sitting like an angel newly-shent,

Who veils its snowy wings and grows all pale,-
Is she nothing?

Otho.

What more to the purpose, abbot? Ludolph. Whither is he winding?

Conrad.

No clue yet!

Ethelbert. You have heard, my liege, and so, no

doubt, all here,

Foul, poisonous, malignant whisperings;

Nay open speech, rude mockery grown common,
Against the spotless nature and clear fame
Of the princess Erminia, your niece.

I have intruded here thus suddenly,

Because I hold those base weeds, with tight hand,
Which now disfigure her fair growing stem,
Waiting but for your sign to pull them up
By the dark roots, and leave her palpable,
To all men's sight, a lady innocent.
The ignominy of that whisper'd tale
About a midnight gallant, seen to climb
A window to her chamber neighbour'd near
I will from her turn off, and put the load
On the right shoulders; on that wretch's head,
Who, by close stratagems, did save herself,

Chiefly by shifting to this lady's room

A rope-ladder for false witness.

Ludolph.

Otho. Ethelbert, proceed.

Ethelbert.

Most atrocious!

With sad lips I shall:

For, in the healing of one wound, I fear

To make a greater. His young highness here To-day was married.

Ludolph.

Ethelbert.

Good.

Would it were good!

Yet why do I delay to spread abroad

The names of those two vipers, from whose jaw A deadly breath went forth to taint and blast This guileless lady?

Otho.

Abbot, speak their names.

Ethelbert. A minute first. It cannot be-but

I ask, great judge, if you to-day have put
A letter by unread ?

Otho.

Conrad. Out with their names!

Ethelbert.

Does 't end in this?

Bold sinner, say you so?

Confess, or by the wheel

Ludolph. Out, hideous monk!
Otho.

Ethelbert. My evidence cannot be far away;
And, though it never come, be on my head
The crime of passing an attaint upon

The slanderers of this virgin

Ludolph.

Speak aloud!

Ethelbert. Auranthe, and her brother there!
Conrad. Amaze!

Ludolph. Throw them from the windows!
Otho. Do what you will!

Ludolph.

What shall I do with them? Something of quick dispatch, for should she hear,

My soft Auranthe, her sweet mercy would

Prevail against my fury. Damned priest!
What swift death wilt thou die? As to the lady,
I touch her not.

Ethelbert.

Illustrious Otho, stay!

An ample store of misery thou hast;

Choke not the granary of thy noble mind
With more bad bitter grain, too difficult
A cud for the repentance of a man
Grey-growing. To thee only I appeal,
Not to thy noble son, whose yeasting youth
Will clear itself, and crystal turn again.

A young man's heart, by Heaven's blessing, is
A wide world, where a thousand new-born hopes
Empurple fresh the melancholy blood: