SCENE II.

The Apartment of WERNER, in the Palace.

Enter JOSEPHINE and ULRIC.

Jos. Stand back, and let me look on thee again! My Ulric!-my beloved!-can it be

After twelve years?

ULR.

Jos.

My dearest mother!

Yes!

My dream is realized-how beautiful—

How more than all I sigh'd for! Heaven receive
A mother's thanks!-a mother's tears of joy!
This is indeed thy work!-At such an hour, too,
He comes not only as a son but saviour.

ULR. If such a joy await me, it must double
What I now feel, and lighten from my heart
A part of the long debt of duty, not

Of love (for that was ne'er withheld)-forgive me!
This long delay was not my fault.

Jos.

I know it.

But cannot think of sorrow now, and doubt
If I e'er felt it, 'tis so dazzled from

My memory, by this oblivious transport!

My son!

Enter WERNER.

WER. What have we here, more strangers?

Remember,

WER.

But we will talk of that anon.

I must be known here but as Werner. Come!

Come to my arms again! Why, thou look'st all
I should have been, and was not. Josephine!

Sure 'tis no father's fondness dazzles me;

But had I seen that form amid ten thousand

Youth of the choicest, my heart would have chosen

This for my son !

ULR.

And yet you knew me not!

WER. Alas! I have had that upon my soul Which makes me look on all men with an eye That only knows the evil at first glance.

ULR. My memory served me far more fondly: I Have not forgotten aught; and ofttimes in

The proud and princely halls of-(I'll not name them, As you say that 'tis perilous)-but i'the pomp

Of your sire's feudal mansion, I look'd back

To the Bohemian mountains many a sunset,

And wept to see another day go down

O'er thee and me, with those huge hills between us. They shall not part us more.

WER.

I know not that.

Are you aware my father is no more?

ULR. Oh heavens! I left him in a green old age, And looking like the oak, worn, but still steady

Amidst the elements, whilst younger trees

Fell fast around him. 'Twas scarce three months

since.

WER. Why did you leave him?

Jos. (embracing ULRIC). Can you ask that question?

Is he not here?

WER.

True; he hath sought his parents,

And found them; but, oh! how, and in what state!
ULR. All shall be better'd. What we have to do

Is to proceed, and to assert our rights,
Or rather yours; for I waive all, unless

Your father has disposed in such a sort

Of his broad lands as to make mine the foremost,

So that I must prefer my claim for form:

But I trust better, and that all is yours.

WER. Have you not heard of Stralenheim?

Riddles: what is this Stralenheim to us?

WER. Everything. One who claims our father's

lands:

Our distant kinsman, and our nearest foe.

The count,

ULR. I never heard his name till now. Indeed, spoke sometimes of a kinsmen, who, If his own line should fail, might be remotely

Involved in the succession; but his titles

Were never named before me-and what then?

His right must yield to ours.

WER.

Ay, if at Prague

But here he is all powerful; and has spread
Snares for thy father, which, if hitherto
He hath escaped them, is by fortune, not
By favour.

ULR.

Doth he personally know you?

WER. NO; but he guesses shrewdly at my person, As he betray'd last night; and I, perhaps,

But owe my temporary liberty

To his uncertainty.

ULR.

I think you wrong him

(Excuse me for the phrase); but Stralenheim

Is not what you prejudge him, or, if so,

He owes me something both for past and present:

I saved his life, he therefore trusts in me;

He hath been plunder'd too, since he came hither;

Is sick; a stranger; and as such not now
Able to trace the villain who hath robb'd him:
I have pledged myself to do so; and the business
Which brought me here was chiefly that: but I