wine.

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,

Or my good soldiers, or their ladies' eyes,
That, after such a merry battle fought,
I can, all safe in body and in soul,
Kiss your fair hand and lady fortune's too.
My ring! now, on my life, it doth rejoice
These lips to feel 't on this soft ivory!
Keep it, my brightest daughter; it may

prove

The little prologue to a line of kings.
I strove against thee and my hot-blood son,
Dull blockhead that I was to be so blind,
But now my sight is clear; forgive me,
lady.

Mighty Monarch,

I wonder not this stranger's victor-deeds So hang upon your spirit. Twice in the fight

I must see Ludolph or the- - What's that shout?

Voices without. Huzza! huzza! Long live

the Emperor !

Other voices. Fall back! Away there!
Otho.
Say what noise is that?

ALBERT advancing from the back of the Stage, whither he had hastened on hearing the cheers of the soldiery.

Albert. It is young Gersa, the Hungarian prince,

Pick'd like a red stag from the fallow herd Of prisoners. Poor prince, forlorn he steps, Slow, and demure, and proud in his despair.

If I may judge by his so tragic bearing, 89 His eye not downcast, and his folded arm, He doth this moment wish himself asleep

160

[Exeunt GERSA and ALBERT with others. And thus a marble column do I build To prop my empire's dome. Conrad, in thee

I have another steadfast one, to uphold
The portals of my state; and, for my own
Pre-eminence and safety, I will strive
To keep thy strength upon its pedestal.
For, without thee, this day I might have
been

A show-monster about the streets of Prague, In chains, as just now stood that noble prince:

And then to me no mercy had been shown, For when the conquer'd lion is once dungeon'd,

170

Who lets him forth again? or dares to

give

An old lion sugar-cakes of mild reprieve? Not to thine ear alone I make confession, But to all here, as, by experience,

I know how the great basement of all power

20

Ludolph. Say no more. Not as a swordsman would I pardon claim, But as a son. The bronzed centurion,

Long toil'd in foreign wars, and whose high

deeds

Are shaded in a forest of tall spears,

Ludolph.

Can I so?

49

faults?

Hath he not gall'd my spirit to the quick?
And with a sullen rigour obstinate
Pour'd out a phial of wrath upon my
Hunted me as the Tartar does the boar,
Driven me to the very edge o' the world,
And almost put a price upon my head?
Sigifred. Remember how he spared the
rebel lords.

Ludolph. Yes, yes, I know he hath a noble nature

That cannot trample on the fallen. But his

Is not the only proud heart in his realm. He hath wrong'd me, and I have done him

wrong;

He hath loved me, and I have shown him

kindness;

We should be almost equal.

Cowards, who never knew their little hearts, Till flurried danger held the mirror up, 80 And then they own'd themselves without a blush,

Curling, like spaniels, round my father's feet.

Such things deserted me and are forgiven,
While I, less guilty, am an outcast still,
And will be, for I love such fair disgrace.
Sigifred. I know the clear truth; so
would Otho see,

For he is just and noble. Fain would I
Be pleader for you
Ludolph.
He'll hear none of it;
You know his temper, hot, proud, obstinate;
Endanger not yourself so uselessly.

I will encounter his thwart spleen myself,

90