S OTHO THE GREAT ACT I SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Castle. Enter CONRAD. O, I am safe emerged from these broils! For every crime I have a laurel-wreath, For every lie a lordship. Nor yet has My ship of fortune furl'd her silken sails, Let her glide on! This danger'd neck is saved, Is bruised by the Hungarian petards. Toil hard, ye slaves, and from the miser-earth I have news for her 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? 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 ΙΟ 20 Concerning what will make that sin-worn cheek Auranthe. I pr'ythee, Conrad, do not overact A poor court-bankrupt, outwitted and lost, Auranthe. Conrad. I saw my moment. The Hungarians, Collected silently in holes and corners, eager kindness. But what is this to me More than that I am glad? I gratulate you. Conrad. Yes, sister, but it does regard you greatly, Nearly, momentously,-aye, painfully! Make me this vow Auranthe. Conrad. Albert! Concerning whom or what? Auranthe. I would inquire somewhat of him. Conrad. At one pernicious charge of the enemy I, for a moment-whiles, was prisoner ta'en And rifled,-stuff! the horses' hoofs have minced it! Conrad. He is! but here make oath 30 40 50 60 To alienate him from your scheming brain, Conrad. No, nor great, nor mighty; You would not wear a crown, or rule a kingdom. Conrad. You'll not be perjured! Go to Albert then, That camp-mushroom-dishonour of our house. Go, page his dusty heels upon a march, Furbish his jingling baldric while he sleeps, Yet stay, perhaps a charm may call you back, Hath given consent that you should marry Ludolph! This is to wake in Paradise! Farewell, Thou clod of yesterday!-'twas not myself! Conrad. I know not: When, lackeying my counsel at a beck, Auranthe. That I heard Among the midnight rumours from the camp. Conrad. You give up Albert to me? Harm him not! E'en for his highness Ludolph's sceptry hand, I would not Albert suffer any wrong. Conrad. Have I not laboured, plotted-? 100 Auranthe. See you spare him: Nor be pathetic, my kind benefactor! Of my poor secrets, and so hold a rod Let not this slave--this villain— Be cause of feud between us. See! he comes! Enter ALBERT. Albert. Fair on your graces fall this early morrow! For your right noble names, like favourite tunes, Auranthe. Noble Albert ! Auranthe. Such salutation argues a glad heart Conrad (aside). Noble! In our prosperity. We thank you, sir. Could do you better service than mere words! But I have other greeting than mine own, Albert. Lady! O, would to Heaven your poor servant 110 120 130 From no less man than Otho, who has sent Conrad. Albert. You mean not this to me? Your message, sir! Sister, this way; [Exeunt CONRAD and Auranthe, For there shall be no "gentle Alberts " now, No "sweet Auranthes! Albert (solus). The duke is out of temper; if he knows More than a brother of a sister ought I should not quarrel with his peevishness. Auranthe-Heaven preserve her always fair!— Is in the heady, proud, ambitious vein ; I bicker not with her,―bid her farewell; She has taken flight from me, then let her soar,— But for poor Ludolph, he is food for sorrow: No levelling bluster of my licensed thoughts, No military swagger of my mind, Can smother from myself the wrong I've done him,— And opiate for the conscience have I none! 150 [Exit Martial Music. SCENE II.-The Court-yard of the Castle. Enter, from the outer gate, OTHO, Nobles, Knights, and The Soldiers halt at the gate, with Banners in sight. Otho. Where is my noble herald? Enter CONRAD from the Castle, attended by two Knights and Servants. ALBERT following. Well, hast told Auranthe our intent imperial? Lest our rent banners, too o' the sudden shown, A victory! Conrad. God save illustrious Otho! Otho. Aye, Conrad, it will pluck out all grey It is the best physician for the spleen; The courtliest inviter to a feast; The subtlest excuser of small faults; And a nice judge in the age and smack of wine. hairs; ΙΟ Enter, from the Castle, AURANTHE, followed by Pages holding up her robes, and a train of Women. She kneels. Hail my sweet hostess! I do thank the stars, my 20 |