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 ^nd day by dav upon ihe shore I stand " 
 
 Phot ogra vu re"ffom Th e painting by Fleuerbach
 
 3p!)igenia in Cauri0 
 
 Corquato CajSjso 
 dDioet? ton laerlicl^ingen 
 
 BY 
 
 J. W. Von Goethe 
 
 Translated by 
 
 Anna Swanwick and Sir Walter Scott 
 
 Edited by Nathan Haskell Dole 
 
 Boston ^ Francis A. Niccolls 
 c^ Company -^ Publishers
 
 lEtrition ©e Huxe 
 
 This Edition is Limited to One Thousand Copies, 
 of which this is copy 
 
 No* Jl:42.. .- 
 
 Copyright, igoa 
 By Francis A. Niccolls & Co. 
 
 Colonfal Press 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
 
 Boston. Mass.. U S. A
 
 /i I CO I 
 
 v3 
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 PAOB 
 ^'AnD DAT BY DAY UPON THE SHORE I STAND" {Seepage 1) 
 
 Frontispiece 
 Iphigenia and Her Brother Orestes .... 50 
 "This single moment is enough for me" . . . 115 
 
 Tasso in Disgrace 225 
 
 OoETz Eesists Arrest 323 
 
 V5ll-'D'<!^«''«-J' #
 
 Iphigenia in Tauris 
 
 A Drama in Five Acts 
 Translated by Anna Swanwick 
 
 Like Torquato Tasso, Iphigenia was origiually written in 
 prose, and in that form was acted at the Weimar Court Theatre 
 about 1779. Goethe himself took the part of Orestes.
 
 Introduction 
 
 The drama of " Iphigenia in Tauris " has been con- 
 sidered Goethe's masterpiece : it is conceived in the 
 spirit of Greek ideality, and is characterised throughout 
 by moral beauty and dignified repose. Schlegel ^ styles 
 it an echo of Greek song, an epithet as appropriate as it 
 is elegant ; for, without any servile imitation of classic 
 models, this beautiful drama, through the medium of 
 its polished verse, reproduces in softened characters the 
 graceful and colossal forms of the antique. 
 
 The destiny of Agamemnon and his race was a fa- 
 vourite theme of the ancients. It has been dramatised 
 in a variety of forms by the three great masters of 
 antiquity ; and from these various sources Goethe has 
 gathered the materials for his drama, enriching it with 
 touches of sublimity and beauty selected indiscrimi- 
 nately from the works of each. The description of the 
 Furies in the third act is worthy of .^schylus, and in 
 the spirit of the same great writer is the exclusion of 
 these terrific powers from the consecrated grove sym- 
 bolical of the peace which religion can alone afford to 
 the anguish of a wounded conscience. The prominence 
 given to the idea of destiny, together with the finished 
 beauty of the whole, reminds us of Sophocles ; while 
 the passages conveying general moral truths, scattered 
 throughout the poem, not unfrequently recall to our 
 recollection those of a similar character in the dramas 
 of Euripides. 
 
 The two dramas of Euripides are founded upon the 
 well-known story of Iphigenia. In the " Iphigenia in 
 1 " Dramatic Literature," Bohn's edition, p. 518.
 
 4 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Aulis," we are introduced to the assembled hosts of 
 Greece, detained by contrary winds in consequence of 
 Diana's anger against Agamemnon. An oracle had 
 declared that the goddess could only be propitiated by 
 the sacrifice of Iphigenia, who is accordingly allured 
 with her mother to the camp. On discovering the 
 fearful doom which awaits her, she is at first over- 
 whelmed with grief. She implores her father to spare 
 her life, endeavours to touch his heart by recalling the 
 fond memories of bygone times, and holds up her in- 
 fant brother, Orestes, that he may plead for her with his 
 tears. Learning, however, that the glory of her country 
 depends upon her death, she rises superior to her fears, 
 subdues her womanly weakness, and devotes herself a 
 wilhng sacrifice for Greece. She is conducted to the 
 altar : the sacred garlands are bound around her head. 
 Calchas lifts the knife to deal the fatal stroke, when 
 Iphigenia suddenly vanishes, and a hind of uncommon 
 beauty lies bleeding at his feet. 
 
 In the " Iphigenia in Tauris," our heroine reappears in 
 the temple of Diana, situated in the Tauric Chersonese, 
 a savage region washed by the Euxine Sea, where, 
 according to the ancients, all strangers were sacrificed 
 at the altar of Diana. To this wild shore Iphigenia 
 had been conveyed by the pitying goddess ; and there, 
 in her character of priestess, she presided over the 
 bloody rites of the barbarians. The incidents in this 
 drama have been adopted by Goethe as the ground- 
 work of his poem, the chief interest in which, as in the 
 drama of Euripides, turns upon the departure of Iphige- 
 nia and Orestes from the Taurian shore. A brief out- 
 line of the Grecian drama will show in what particulars 
 the modern poet has adhered to his classic model, and 
 where he has deviated from it. 
 
 The scene of both is in the vicinity of the temple of 
 Diana. In the opening soliloquy of the Grecian drama, 
 Iphigenia, after lamenting her unhappy destiny, relates
 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 her dream of the previous night, from which she infers 
 the death of Orestes. She determines to offer a hba- 
 tion to his memory ; and, while engaged in performing 
 this pious rite, she is informed that two strangers have 
 been captured on the shore, for whose sacrifice she is 
 commanded to prepare. Orestes and Pylades are 
 shortly after introduced ; and learning from the former 
 that he is a native of Argos, she offers to spare his life 
 provided he will carry a letter for her to Mycene. He 
 refuses to abandon his friend ; Pylades is equally dis- 
 interested ; a generous contest ensues ; and the latter, 
 yielding at length to the entreaties of Orestes, consents 
 to accept life on the proposed conditions. The letter 
 addressed to Orestes is produced, and Iphigenia dis- 
 covers her brother in the iutended victim. They 
 anxiously consider how they may escape; and Iphi- 
 genia suggests, that, in her character of priestess, she 
 lead them, together with the image of Diana, to the 
 sea, there to be purified in the ocean waves, where they 
 may find safety in the attendant bark. With all the 
 wily sublety of a Greek, she imposes upon the credulity 
 of the barbarian monarch, and induces him, not only to 
 sanction her project, but to assist in its execution, 
 which she at length successfully achieves. In this 
 drama, Iphigenia, though exhibiting some noble traits, 
 offends us by her unscrupulous violation of the truth, and 
 by the cunning artifice which Goethe, with admirable 
 art, has attributed to Pylades. We are the more dis- 
 pleased with this portrait, because we are unwilUng to 
 recognise in the crafty priestess the innocent victim 
 who so strongly awakens our sympathy in the beauti- 
 ful drama of " Iphigenia in Aulis." In the Iphigenia 
 of Goethe, on the contrary, we discover with pleasure 
 the same filial tenderness, and the same touching mix- 
 ture of timidity and courage, which characterised that 
 interesting heroine. 
 
 In the drama of Euripides we are chiefly interested
 
 6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 in the generous friendship of Orestes and Pylades ; in 
 that of Goethe the character of Iphigenia constitutes 
 the chief charm, and awakens our warmest sympathy. 
 While contemplating her, we feel as if some exquisite 
 statue of Grecian art had become animated by a hving 
 soul, and moved and breathed before us: though ex- 
 hibiting the severe simphcity which characterises the 
 creations of antiquity, she is far removed from all cold- 
 ness and austerity ; and her character, though cast in a 
 classic mould, is free from that harsh and vindictive 
 spirit which darkened the heroism of those barbarous 
 times when religion lent her sanction to hatred and 
 revenge. 
 
 The docility with which, in opposition to her own 
 feelings, she at first consents to the stratagem of Pyla- 
 des, though apparently inconsistent with her rever- 
 ence for truth, is in reality a beautiful and touching 
 trait. The conflict in her mind between intense anxiety 
 for her brother's safety, and detestation of the artifice 
 by which alone she thinks it can be secured, amounts 
 almost to agony : in her extremity she calls upon the 
 gods, and implores them to save their image in her 
 soul. The struggle finally subsides : she remains faith- 
 ful to her high convictions, reveals the project of es- 
 cape, and thus saves her soul from treachery. From 
 the commencement of the fifth act she assumes a calm 
 and lofty tone, as if feeling the inspiration of a noble 
 purpose. The dignity and determination with which 
 she opposes the cruel project of the barbarian king, 
 remind us of the similar qualities displayed by the 
 Antigone of Sophocles, who is perhaps the noblest her- 
 oine of antiquity. Thus, when called upon by the king 
 to reverence the law, Iphigenia appeals to that law 
 written in the heart, more ancient and more sacred than 
 the ordinances of man ; and Antigone, when, by the 
 interment of her brother Polynices, she has incurred 
 the anger of the tyrant Creon and become subjected to
 
 INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 a cruel death, justifies herseK by an appeal to the same 
 sacred authority. 
 
 The remaining characters of the drama, though sub- 
 ordinate to the central figure, are in admirable keeping 
 with it ; the poet having softened down the harsh fea- 
 tures of the barbarians, so as not to form too abrupt a 
 contrast with the more polished Greeks, and thereby 
 interfere with the harmony of the piece. The colossal 
 figures of the Titans appearing in the background, and 
 the dread power of Destiny overarching all, impart a 
 character of solemn grandeur to the whole.
 
 Dramatis Personae 
 
 Iphigenia. Orestes. 
 
 Thoas, King of the Taurians. Pylades. 
 
 Arkas.
 
 Iphigenia in Tauris 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A Grove he/ore the Temple of Diana. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs 
 Of this old, shady, consecrated grove, 
 As in the goddess' silent sanctuary. 
 With the same shuddering feeling forth I step, 
 As when I trod it first ; nor ever here 
 Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home. 
 Long as a higher wHl, to which I bow, 
 Hath kept me here concealed, still, as at first, 
 I feel myself a stranger. For the sea 
 Doth sever me, alas ! from those I love : 
 And day by day upon the shore I stand, 
 The land of Hellas seeking with my soul ; 
 But, to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves 
 Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply. 
 Alas for him ! who, friendless and alone, 
 Eemote from parents and from brethren dwells : 
 From him grief snatches every coming joy 
 Ere it doth reach his hp. His yearning thoughts 
 Throng back for ever to his father's halls, 
 Where first to him the radiant sun unclosed 
 
 9
 
 lo IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 The gates of heaven ; where closer, day by day. 
 Brothers and sisters, leagued in pastime sweet, 
 Around each other twined love's tender bonds. 
 I wiU not reckon with the gods ; yet truly 
 Deserving of lament is woman's lot. 
 Man rules alike at home and in the field, 
 Nor is in foreign chmes without resource : 
 Him conquest crowneth, him possession gladdens, 
 And him an honourable death awaits. 
 How circumscribed is woman's destiny ! 
 Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord. 
 Her duty and her comfort : sad her fate, 
 Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote ! 
 Thus Thoas holds me here, a noble man. 
 Bound with a heavy though a sacred chain. 
 Oh, how it shames me, goddess, to confess 
 That with repugnance I perform these rites 
 For thee, divine protectress ! unto whom 
 I would in freedom dedicate my life. 
 In thee, Diana, I have always hoped ; 
 And still I hope in thee, who didst infold 
 Within the holy shelter of thine arm 
 The outcast daughter of the mighty king. 
 Daughter of Jove ! hast thou from ruined Troy 
 Led back in triumph to his native land 
 The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict. 
 His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding, — 
 Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon, 
 Who to thine altar led his darliug child, 
 Preserved his wife, Electra, and his son, 
 His dearest treasures ? — then at length restore 
 Thy suppliant also to her friends and home. 
 And save her, as thou once from death didst save. 
 So now, from living here, a second death.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Scene II. — Iphigenia, Aekas. 
 
 AEKAS. 
 
 The king hath sent me hither, bade me greet 
 With hail, and fair salute, Diana's priestess. 
 For new and wondrous conquest, this the day, 
 When to her goddess Tauris renders thanks. 
 I hasten on before the king and host, 
 Himself to herald, and its near approach. 
 
 iphigenia. 
 
 We are prepared to give them worthy greeting : 
 Our goddess doth behold with gracious eye 
 The welcome sacrifice from Thoas' hand. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 Would that I also found the priestess' eye. 
 
 Much honoured, much revered one, found thine eye, 
 
 O consecrated maid, more calm, more briglit. 
 
 To all a happy omen ! Still doth grief, 
 
 With gloom mysterious, shroud thy inner mind : 
 
 Vainly, through many a tedious year, we wait 
 
 For one confiding utterance from thy breast. 
 
 Long as I've known thee in this holy place. 
 
 That look of thine hath ever made me shudder ; 
 
 And, as with iron bands, thy soul remains 
 
 Locked in the deep recesses of thy breast. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 As doth become the exile and the orphan. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Dost thou, then, here seem exiled and an orphan ?
 
 12 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 Can foreign scenes our fatherland replace ? 
 
 AKKAS. 
 
 Thy fatherland is foreign now to thee. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Hence is it that my bleeding heart ne'er heals. 
 In early youth, when first my soul, in love, 
 Held father, mother, brethren fondly twiued, 
 A group of tender germs, in union sweet, 
 We sprang in beauty from the parent stem, 
 And heavenward grew : alas I a foreign curse 
 Then seized and severed me from those I loved, 
 And wrenched' with iron grasp the beauteous bands. 
 It vanished then, the fairest charm of youth. 
 The simple gladness of life's early dawn ; 
 Though saved, I was a shadow of myself. 
 And life's fresh joyance blooms in me no more. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 If thou wilt ever call thyself unblest, 
 I must accuse thee of ingratitude. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thanks have you ever. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 Not the honest thanks 
 Which prompt the heart to offices of love ; 
 The joyous glance, revealing to the host 
 A grateful spirit, with its lot content. 
 When thee a deep mysterious destiny
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 13 
 
 Brought to this sacred fane, long years ago, 
 To greet thee, as a treasure sent from heaven. 
 With reverence and affection, Thoas came. 
 Benign and friendly was this shore to thee, 
 To every stranger else with horror fraught ; 
 For, till thy coming, none e'er trod our realm 
 But fell, according to an ancient rite, 
 A bloody victim at Diana's shrine. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Freely to breathe alone is not to live. 
 Say, is it life, within this holy fane, 
 Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre 
 To linger out my days ? Or call you that 
 A hfe of conscious happiness and joy, 
 When every hour, dreamed hstlessly away, 
 Still leadeth onward to those gloomy days 
 Which the sad troop of the departed spend 
 In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore ? 
 A useless life is but an early death : 
 This woman's destiny hath still been mine. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 I can forgive, though I must needs deplore, 
 
 The noble pride which underrates itself : 
 
 It robs thee of the happiness of life. 
 
 But hast thou, since thy coming here, done nought ? 
 
 Who hath the monarch's gloomy temper cheered ? 
 
 Who hath with gentle eloquence annulled. 
 
 From year to year, the usage of our sires, 
 
 By which, a victim at Diana's shrine. 
 
 Each stranger perished, thus from certain death 
 
 Sending so oft the rescued captive home ? 
 
 Hath not Diana, harbouring no revenge 
 
 For this suspension of her bloody rites. 
 
 In richest measure heard thy gentle prayer ?
 
 14 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 On joyous pinions o'er the advancing host. 
 
 Doth not triumphant conquest proudly soar ? 
 
 And feels not every one a happier lot, 
 
 Since Thoas, who so long hath guided us 
 
 With wisdom and with valour, swayed by thee, 
 
 The joy of mild benignity approves, 
 
 Which leads him to relax the rigid claims 
 
 Of mute submission ? Call thyself useless ! Thou, 
 
 When, from thy being, o'er a thousand hearts, 
 
 A healing balsam flows ? when to a race, 
 
 To whom a god consigned thee, thou dost prove 
 
 A fountain of perpetual happiness, 
 
 And from this dire, inhospitable coast, 
 
 Dost to the stranger grant a safe return ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The little done doth vanish to the mind 
 Which forward sees how much remains to do. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 Him dost thou praise, who underrates his deeds ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Who weigheth his own deeds is justly blamed. 
 
 AEKAS. 
 
 He too, real worth too proudly who condemns. 
 As who, too vainly, spurious worth o'errateth. 
 Trust me, and heed the counsel of ep man 
 With honest zeal devoted to thy service : 
 When Thoas comes to-day to speak with thee. 
 Lend to his purposed words a gracious ear. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thy well-intentioned counsel troubles me : 
 His offer I have ever sought to shun.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 15 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh. 
 Sithence King Thoas lost liis son and heir, 
 Among his followers he trusts but few, 
 And trusts those few no more as formerly. 
 With jealous eye he views each noble's son 
 As the successor of his realm : he dreads 
 A sohtary, helpless age — perchance 
 Sudden rebellion and untimely death. 
 A Scythian studies not the rules of speech, 
 And least of all the king. He who is used 
 To act and to command, knows not the art, 
 From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse 
 Through many windings to its destined goal. 
 Thwart not his purpose by a cold refusal, 
 By an intended misconception. Meet, 
 With gracious mien, half-way the royal wish. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Shall I, then, speed the doom that threatens me ? 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 His gracious offer canst thou call a threat ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 'Tis the most terrible of all to me. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 For his affection granf him confidence. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 If he will first redeem my soul from fear. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 "Why dost thou hide from him thy origin ?
 
 i6 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 A priestess secrecy doth well become. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Nought to a monarch should a secret be ; 
 And, though he doth not seek to fathom thine, 
 His noble nature feels, ay, deeply feels. 
 That thou with care dost hide tliyself from him. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Ill-will and anger harbours he against me ? 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Almost it seems so. True, he speaks not of thee ; 
 But casual words have taught me that the wish 
 Thee to possess hath firmly seized his soul : 
 Oh, leave him not a prey unto himself. 
 Lest his displeasure, ripening in his breast. 
 Should work thee woe, so with repentance thou 
 Too late my faithful counsel shalt recall ! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 How ! doth the monarch purpose what no man 
 Of noble mind, who loves his honest name. 
 Whose bosom reverence for the gods restrains, 
 Would ever think of ? Will he force employ 
 To drag me from the altar to his bed ? 
 Then will I call the gods, and chiefly thee, 
 Diana, goddess resolute, to aid me : 
 Thyself a virgin, wilt a virgin shield. 
 And to thy priestess gladly render aid. 
 
 AEKAS. 
 
 Be tranquil ! Passion, and youth's fiery blood, 
 Impel not Thoas rashly to commit
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 17 
 
 A deed so lawless. In his present mood, 
 I fear from him another harsh resolve, 
 "Which (for his soul is steadfast and unmoved) 
 He then will execute without delay. 
 Therefore I pray thee, canst thou grant no more, 
 At least he grateful — give thy confidence. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Oh, tell me what is further known to thee. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Learn it from him. I see the king approach : 
 Him thou dost honour, thine own heart enjoins 
 To meet him kindly and with confidence. 
 A man of noble mind may oft be led 
 By woman's gentle word. 
 
 IPHIGENIA {alone). 
 
 How to observe 
 His faithful counsel see I not in sooth. 
 But willingly the duty I perform 
 Of giving thanks for benefits received, 
 And much I wish that to the king my lips 
 With truth could utter what would please his ear. 
 
 Scene III. — Iphigenia, Thoas. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Her royal gifts the goddess shower on thee. 
 Imparting conquest, wealth, and high renown, 
 Dominion, and the welfare of thy house ; 
 With the fullfilment of each pious wish. 
 That thou, whose sway for multitudes provides. 
 Thyself mayest be supreme in happiness !
 
 i8 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Contented were I with my people's praise ; 
 
 My conquests others more than I enjoy. 
 
 Oh ! be he king or subject, he's most blest, 
 
 Whose happiness is centred in his home. 
 
 My deep affliction thou didst share with me 
 
 What time, in war's encounter, the fell sword 
 
 Tore from my side my last, my dearest son : 
 
 So long as fierce revenge possessed my heart, 
 
 I did not feel my dwelling's dreary void ; 
 
 But now, returning home, my rage appeased. 
 
 Their kingdom wasted, and my son avenged, 
 
 I find there nothing left to comfort me. 
 
 The glad obedience I was wont to see 
 
 Kindling in every eye, is smothered now 
 
 In discontent and gloom : each, pondering, weighs 
 
 The changes which a future day may bring, 
 
 And serves the childless king because he must. 
 
 To-day I come within this sacred fane. 
 
 Which I have often entered to implore 
 
 And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast 
 
 I bear an old and fondly cherished wish. 
 
 To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger : 
 
 I hope, a blessing to myself and realm. 
 
 To lead thee to my dwelhng as my bride. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown : 
 Abashed the fugitive before thee stands. 
 Who on this shore sought only what thou gavest, - 
 Safety and peace. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Thus still to shroud thyself 
 From me, as from the lowest, in the veil 
 Of mystery which wrapped thy coming here. 
 Would in no country be deemed just or right.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 19 
 
 Strangers this shore appalled : 'twas so ordained, 
 Alike by law and stern necessity. 
 From thee alone, — a kindly welcomed guest. 
 Who hast enjoyed each hallowed privilege, 
 And spent thy days in freedom unrestrained, — 
 From thee I hoped that confidence to gain 
 Which every faithful host may justly claim. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 If I concealed, king ! my name, my race, 
 It was embarrassment, and not mistrust. 
 For didst thou know who stands before thee now, 
 And what accursed head thine arm protects. 
 Strange horror would possess thy mighty heart ; 
 And, far from wishing me to share thy throne, 
 Thou, ere the time appointed, from thy realm 
 Wouldst banish me ; wouldst thrust me forth, pe^ 
 
 chance. 
 Before a glad reunion with my friends 
 And period to my wanderings is ordained. 
 To meet that sorrow, which, in every clime, 
 With cold, inhospitable, fearful hand. 
 Awaits the outcast, exiled from his home. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree, 
 
 Whate'er their doom for thee and for thy house. 
 
 Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoyed 
 
 The privilege the pious stranger claims. 
 
 To me hath failed no blessing sent from heaven ; 
 
 And to persuade me, that protecting thee 
 
 I shield a guilty head, were hard indeed. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thy bounty, not the guest, draws blessings down.
 
 20 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 The kindness shown the wicked is not blest. 
 End, then, thy silence, priestess : not unjust 
 Is he who doth demand it. In my hands 
 The goddess placed thee ; thou hast been to me 
 As sacred as to her, and her behest 
 Shall for the future also be my law : 
 If thou canst hope in safety to return 
 Back to thy kindred, I renounce my claims ; 
 But is thy homeward path for ever closed, 
 Or doth thy race in hopeless exile rove, 
 Or lie extinguished by some mighty woe, 
 Then may I claim thee by more laws than one. 
 Speak openly : thou knowest I keep my word. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Its ancient bands reluctantly my tongue 
 Doth loose, a long-hid secret to divulge. 
 For once imparted, it resumes no more 
 The safe asylum of the inmost heart. 
 But thenceforth, as the Powers above decree, 
 Doth work its ministry of weal or woe. 
 Attend ! I issue from the Titan's race. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 A word momentous calmly hast thou spoken 
 
 Him namest thou ancestor whom all the world 
 
 Knows as a sometime favourite of the gods ? 
 
 Is it that Tantalus, whom Jove himself 
 
 Drew to his council and his social board ? 
 
 On whose experienced words, with wisdom fraught, 
 
 As on the language of an oracle. 
 
 E'en gods delighted hung ?
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS ?l 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 'Tis even he : 
 But tlie immortal gods with mortal men 
 Should not, on equal terms, hold intercourse ; 
 For all too feeble is the human race, 
 Not to grow dizzy on unwonted heights. 
 Ignoble was he not, and no betrayer ; 
 To be tlie Thunderer's slave, he was too great ; 
 To be his friend and comrade, — but a man. 
 His crime was human, and their doom severe ; 
 For poets sing, that treachery and pride 
 Did from Jove's table hurl him headlong down 
 To grovel ia the depths of Tartarus. 
 Alas ! and his whole race must bear their hate. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Bear they their own guilt, or their ancestor's ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The Titan's mighty breast and nervous frame 
 
 Was his descendants' certain heritage ; 
 
 But round their brow Jove forged a band of brass. 
 
 "Wisdom and patience, prudence and restraint. 
 
 He from their gloomy, fearful eye concealed ; 
 
 In them each passion grew to savage rage. 
 
 And headlong rushed with violence unchecked. 
 
 Already Pelops, Tantalus' loved son, 
 
 Mighty of will, obtained his beauteous bride, 
 
 Hippodamia, child of (Enomaus, 
 
 Through treachery and murder : she, ere long, 
 
 To glad her consort's heart, bare him two sons, 
 
 Thyest and Atreus. They with envy marked 
 
 The ever-growing love their father bare 
 
 To his first-born, sprung from another union. 
 
 Hate leagued the pair ; and secretly they wrought.
 
 22 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 lu fratricide, the first dread crime. The sire 
 Hippodamia held as murderess : 
 With savage rage he claimed from her his son, 
 And she in terror did destroy herself — 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Thou'rt silent ? Pause not in thy narrative, 
 Eepent not of thy confidence — say on ! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 How blest is he who his progenitors 
 
 With pride remembers, to the listener tells 
 
 The story of their greatness, of their deeds, 
 
 And, silently rejoicing, sees himself 
 
 The latest link of this illustrious chain ! 
 
 For seldom does the self-same stock produce 
 
 The monster and the demigod : a line 
 
 Or good or evil ushers in, at last. 
 
 The glory or the terror of the world. — 
 
 After the death of Pelops, his two sons 
 
 Euled o'er the city with divided sway. 
 
 But such an union could not long endure. 
 
 His brother's honour first Thyestes wounds. 
 
 In vengeance Atreus drove him from the realm. 
 
 Thyestes, planning horrors, long before 
 
 Had stealthily procured his brother's son. 
 
 Whom he in secret nurtured as his own. 
 
 Eevenge and fury in his breast he poured, 
 
 Then to the royal city sent him forth, 
 
 That in his uncle he might slay his sire. 
 
 The meditated murder was disclosed. 
 
 And by the king most cruelly avenged, 
 
 Wlio slaughtered, as he thought, his brother's son. 
 
 Too late he learned whose dying tortures met 
 
 His drunken gaze ; and, seeking to assuage 
 
 The insatiate vengeance that possessed his soul.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 23 
 
 He planned a deed unheard of. He assumed 
 
 A friendly tone ; seemed reconciled, appeased ; 
 
 And lured his brother, with his children twain, 
 
 Back to his kingdom ; these he seized and slew. 
 
 Then placed the loathsome and abhorrent food 
 
 At his first meal before the unconscious sire. 
 
 And when Thyestes had his hunger stilled 
 
 With his own flesh, a sadness seized his soul : 
 
 He for his children asked, — their steps, their voice, 
 
 Fancied he heard already at the door ; 
 
 And Atreus, grinning with malicious joy. 
 
 Threw in the members of the slaughtered boys. — 
 
 Shuddering, king, thou dost avert thy face ! 
 
 So did the sun his radiant visage hide, 
 
 And swerve his chariot from the eternal path. 
 
 These, monarch, are thy priestess' ancestors ; 
 
 And many a dreadful fate of mortal doom. 
 
 And many a deed of the bewildered brain. 
 
 Dark night doth cover with her sable wing, 
 
 Or shroud in gloomy twilight. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Hidden there 
 Let them abide. A truce to horror now, 
 And tell me by what miracle thou sprangest 
 From race so savage. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Atreus' eldest son 
 Was Agamemnon, — he, king, my sire ! 
 But I may say with truth, that, from a child. 
 In him the model of a perfect man 
 I witnessed ever. Clytemnestra bore 
 To him, myself, the firsthng of their love, 
 Electra then. Peaceful the monarch ruled.
 
 24 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 And to the house of Tantalus was given 
 
 A long-withheld repose. A son alone 
 
 Was wanting to complete my parents' bliss : 
 
 Scarce was this wish fulfilled, and young Orestes, 
 
 The household's darhng, with his sisters grew. 
 
 When new misfortunes vexed our ancient house. 
 
 To you hath come the rumour of the war, 
 
 Which, to avenge the fairest woman's wrongs, 
 
 The force united of the Grecian kings 
 
 Eouud Ihon's walls encamped. Whether the town 
 
 Was humbled, and achieved their great revenge, 
 
 I have not heard. My father led the host. 
 
 In Auhs vainly for a favouring gale 
 
 They waited ; for, enraged against their chief, 
 
 Diana stayed their progress, and required, 
 
 Through Calchas' voice, the monarch's eldest daughter. 
 
 They lured me with my mother to the camp : 
 
 They dragged me to the altar, and this head 
 
 There to the goddess doomed. — She was appeased ; 
 
 She did not wish my blood, and shrouded me 
 
 In a protecting cloud : within this temple 
 
 I first awakened from the dream of death ; 
 
 Yes, I myself am she, Iphigenia, 
 
 Grandchild of Atreus, Agamemnon's child, 
 
 Diana's priestess, I who speak with thee. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 I yield no higher honour or regard 
 To the king's daughter than the maid unknown : 
 Once more my first proposal I repeat ; 
 Come, follow me, and share what I possess. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 How dare I venture such a step, king ? 
 Hath not the goddess who protected me
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 25 
 
 Alone a right to my devoted head ? 
 
 'Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary, 
 
 Where she perchance reserves me for my sire, 
 
 By my apparent death enough chastised, 
 
 To be the joy and solace of his age. 
 
 Perchance my glad return is near ; and how, 
 
 If I, unmindful of her purposes, 
 
 Had here attached myself against her will ? 
 
 I asked a signal, did she wish my stay. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 The signal is, that still thou tarriest here. 
 Seek not evasively such vain pretexts. 
 Not many words are needed to refuse, 
 The no alone is heard by the refused. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Mine are not words meant only to deceive : 
 I have to thee my inmost heart revealed. 
 And doth no inward voice suggest to thee. 
 How I with yearning soul must pine to see 
 My father, mother, and my long-lost home ? 
 Oh, let thy vessels bear me thither, king ! 
 That in the ancient halls, where sorrow still 
 In accents low doth fondly breathe my name, 
 Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child, 
 May round the columns twine the fairest wreath. 
 New life thou wouldst to me and mine impart. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Then, go ! Obey the promptings of thy heart. 
 And to the voice of reason and good counsel 
 Close thou thine ear. Be quite the woman, give 
 To every wish the rein, that, bridleless, 
 May seize on thee, and whirl thee here and there. 
 When burns the fire of passion in her breast.
 
 26 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 No sacred tie withholds her from the wretch 
 Who would allure her to forsake for him 
 A husband's or a father's guardian arms ; 
 Extinct within her heart its fiery glow, 
 The golden tongue of eloquence in vain 
 With words of truth and power assails her ear. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Eemember now, O king, thy noble words ! 
 
 My trust and candour wilt thou thus repay ? 
 
 Thou seemest, methinks, prepared to hear the truth. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 For this unlooked-for answer not prepared. 
 Yet 'twas to be expected : knew I not 
 That with a woman I had now to deal ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Upbraid not thus, king, our feeble sex ! 
 
 Though not in dignity to match with yours, 
 
 The weapons woman wields are not ignoble. 
 
 And trust me, Thoas, in thy happiness 
 
 I have a deeper insight than thyself. 
 
 Thou thinkest, ignorant alike of both, 
 
 A closer union would augment our bliss ; 
 
 Inspired with confidence and honest zeal 
 
 Thou strongly urgest me to yield consent : 
 
 And here I thank the gods, who give me strength 
 
 To shun a doom unratified by them. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 'Tis not a god, 'tis thine own heart, that speaks.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 27 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 To hear them have I not an equal right ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The raging tempest drowns the still small voice. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Before all others should the prince attend it. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Thy sacred office, and ancestral right 
 
 To Jove's own table, place thee with the gods 
 
 In closer union than an earth-born savage. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thus must I now the confidence atone 
 Thyself didst wring from me ! 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 I am a man. 
 
 And better 'tis we end this conference. 
 Hear, then, my last resolve. Be priestess still 
 Of the great goddess who selected thee ; 
 And may she pardon me, that I from her, 
 Unjustly, and with secret self-reproach, 
 Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld ! 
 !From olden time no stranger neared our shore 
 But fell a victim at her sacred shrine.
 
 28 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 But thou, with kind affection (which at times 
 Seemed like a gentle daughter's tender love, 
 At times assumed to my enraptured heart 
 The modest inclination of a bride). 
 Didst so enthrall me, as with magic bonds, 
 That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rock 
 My senses in a dream : I did not hear 
 My people's murmurs ; now they cry aloud, 
 Ascribing my poor son's untimely death 
 To this my guilt. No longer for thy sake 
 Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd, 
 Who urgently demand the sacrifice. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee. 
 Who to the gods ascribe a thirst for blood 
 Do misconceive their nature, and impute 
 To them their own inhuman dark desires. 
 Did not Diana snatch me from the priest. 
 Holding my service dearer than my death ? 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds, 
 
 Lightly to guide and construe rites divine. 
 
 Perform thy duty : I'll accomplish mine. 
 
 Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shore 
 
 We found concealed, and whose arrival here 
 
 Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power. 
 
 With them thy goddess may once more resume 
 
 Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites ! 
 
 I send them here, — thy duty not unknown. [Uxit. 
 
 IPHIGENIA {alone). 
 
 Gracious protectress ! thou hast clouds 
 To shelter innocence distressed.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 29 
 
 And from the arms of iron fate, 
 Gently to waft her o'er the sea, 
 O'er the wide earth's remotest realms, 
 Where'er it seemeth good to thee. 
 Wise art thou, — thine all-seeing eye 
 The future and the past surveys : 
 Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest, 
 E'en as thy hght, the hfe of night, 
 Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch. 
 O Goddess ! keep my hands from blood ! 
 Blessing it never brings, and peace ; 
 And still in evil hours the form 
 Of the chance-murdered man appears 
 To fill the unwilling murderer's soul 
 With horrible and gloomy fears. 
 For fondly the Immortals view 
 Man's widely scattered, simple race ; 
 And the poor mortal's transient life 
 Gladly prolong, that he may lift 
 Awhile to their eternal heavens 
 His sympathetic joyous gaze. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Okestes, Pylades. 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 It is the path of death that now we tread : 
 At every step my soul grows more serene. 
 When I implored Apollo to remove 
 The grisly band of Furies from my side, 
 He seemed, with hope-inspiring, godlike words, 
 To promise aid and safety in the fane 
 Of his loved sister, who o'er Tauris rules. 
 Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,
 
 30 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 That with my life shall terminate my woe. 
 
 How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crushed, 
 
 Whose sense is deadened by a hand divine. 
 
 Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day ! 
 
 And must the son of Atreus not entwine 
 
 The wreath of conquest round his dying brow ? 
 
 Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire. 
 
 Bleed like a victim, — an ignoble death ? 
 
 So be it ! Better at the altar here. 
 
 Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands 
 
 Have spread assassination's wily net. 
 
 Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers ! 
 
 Ye, who, hke loosened hounds, still scent the blood 
 
 Which, trickhng from my feet, betrays my path. 
 
 Leave me ! ere long I come to you below. 
 
 Nor you, nor I, should view the Hght of day. 
 
 The soft green carpet of the beauteous earth 
 
 Is no arena for unhallowed fiends. 
 
 Below I seek you, where an equal fate 
 
 Binds all in murky, never-ending night. 
 
 Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend. 
 
 The guiltless partner of my crime and curse, 
 
 Thee am I loath, before thy time, to take 
 
 To yonder cheerless shore ! Thy life or death 
 
 Alone awakens in me hope or fear. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepared 
 Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade. 
 I purpose still, through the entangled paths, 
 Wliich seem as they would lead to blackest night, 
 Again to wind our upward way to life. 
 Of death I think not : I observe and mark 
 Whether the gods may not perchance present 
 Means and fit moment for a joyful flight. 
 Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 31 
 
 And though the priestess stood with hand upraised, 
 
 Prepared to cut our consecrated locks, 
 
 Our safety still should be my only thought : 
 
 Uplift thy soul above this weak despair ; 
 
 Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril. 
 
 Apollo pledged to us his sacred word. 
 
 That in his sister's holy fane for thee 
 
 Were comfort, aid, and glad return prepared. 
 
 The words of Heaven are not equivocal, 
 
 As in despair the poor oppressed one thinks. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 The mystic web of hfe my mother cast 
 Around my infant head, and so I grew 
 An image of my sire ; and my mute look 
 Was aye a bitter and a keen reproof 
 To her and base ^gisthus. Oh, how oft, 
 When silently within our gloomy hall 
 Electra sat, and mused beside the fire, 
 Have I with anguished spirit climbed her knee, 
 And watched her bitter tears with sad amaze! 
 Then would she tell me of our noble sire : 
 How much I longed to see him — be with him ! 
 Myself at Troy one moment fondly wished, 
 My sire's return the next. The day arrived — 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hell 
 
 Hold nightly converse ! Of a time more fair 
 
 May the remembrance animate our hearts 
 
 To fresh heroic deeds. The gods require 
 
 On this wide earth the service of the good. 
 
 To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee ; 
 
 For in thy father's train they sent thee not. 
 
 When he to Orcus went unwilling down.
 
 32 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Would I had seized the border of his robe, 
 And followed him ! 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 They kindly cared for me 
 Who held thee here : for, hadst thou ceased to livei, 
 I know not what had then become of me ; 
 Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone, 
 Have from my childhood lived, and wish to Uve. 
 
 OEESTES. 
 
 Eemind me not of those delightsome days 
 When me thy home a safe asylum gave : 
 With fond solicitude thy noble sire 
 The half-nipped tender floweret gently reared ; 
 While thou, a friend and playmate always gay, 
 Like to a light and brilhant butterfly 
 Around a dusky flower, didst day by day 
 Around me with new Hfe thy gambols urge, 
 And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul, 
 Until, my cares forgetting, I with thee 
 Was lured to snatch the eager joys of youth. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 My very life began when thee I loved. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Say, then thy woes began, and thou speakest truly. 
 This is the sharpest sorrow of my lot, 
 That, like a plague-infected wretch, I bear 
 Death and destruction hid within my breast; 
 That, where I tread, e'en on the healthiest spot, 
 Ere long the blooming faces round betray 
 The anguished features of a lingering death.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 33 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Were thy breath venom, I had been the first 
 To die that death, Orestes. Am I not, 
 As ever, full of courage and of joy ? 
 And love and courage are the spirit's wings 
 Wafting to noble actions. 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 Noble actions ? 
 Time was, when fancy painted such before us ! 
 When oft, the game pursuing, on we roamed 
 O'er hill and valley ; hoping, that ere long. 
 Like our great ancestors in heart and hand, 
 With club and weapon armed, we so might track 
 The robber to his den, or monster huge. 
 And then at twilight, by the boundless sea, 
 Peaceful we sat, reclined against each other ; 
 The waves came dancing to our very feet, 
 And all before us lay the wide, wide world ; 
 Then on a sudden one would seize his sword, 
 And future deeds shone round us like the stars. 
 Which gemmed in countless throngs the vault of night. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Endless, my friend, the projects which the soul 
 Burns to accomphsh. We would every deed 
 At once perform as grandly as it shows 
 After long ages, when from land to land 
 The poet's swelling song hath rolled it on. 
 It sounds so lovely what our fathers did, 
 When, in the silent evening-shade reclined. 
 We drink it in with music's melting tones ; 
 And what we do is, as their deeds to them, 
 Toilsome and incomplete ! 
 Thus we pursue what always flies before : 
 We disregard the path in which we tread,
 
 34 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Scarce see around the footsteps of our sires, 
 
 Or heed the trace of their career on earth. 
 
 We ever hasten on to chase their shades, 
 
 Which, god-hke, at a distance far remote, 
 
 On golden clouds, the mountain summits crown. 
 
 The man I prize not who esteems himself 
 
 Just as the people's breath may chance to raise him. 
 
 But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks, 
 
 That they through thee have early done so much. 
 
 OEESTES. 
 
 When they ordain a man to noble deeds, 
 
 To shield from dire calamity his friends, 
 
 Extend his empire, or protect its bounds, 
 
 Or put to flight its ancient enemies. 
 
 Let him be gTateful ! For to him a god 
 
 Imparts the first, the sweetest, joy of hfe. 
 
 Me have they doomed to be a slaughterer. 
 
 To be an honoured mother's murderer, 
 
 And, shamefully a deed of shame avenging, 
 
 Me through their own decree they have o'erwhelmed. 
 
 Trust me, the race of Tantalus is doomed ; 
 
 And I, his last descendant, may not perish. 
 
 Or crowned with honour or unstained by crime. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 The gods avenge not on the son the deeds 
 Done by their father. Each, or good or bad, 
 Of his own actions reaps the due reward. 
 The parents' blessing, not their curse, descends. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 3S 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 It was at least the mighty gods' decree. 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 Then is it their decree which doth destroy us. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Perform what they command, and wait the event. 
 Do thou Apollo's sister bear from hence, 
 That they at Delphi may united dwell, 
 There by a noble-thoughted race revered ; 
 Thee, for this deed, the lofty pair will view 
 With gracious eye, and from the hateful grasp 
 Of the infernal Powers will rescue thee. 
 E'en now none dares intrude within this grove. 
 
 OEESTES. 
 
 So shall I die at least a peaceful death. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Far other are my thoughts, and not unskilled 
 Have I the future and the past combined 
 In quiet meditation. Long, perchance. 
 Hath ripened in the counsel of the gods 
 The great event. Diana yearns to leave 
 The savage coast of these barbarians, 
 Foul with their sacrifice of human blood. 
 We were selected for the high emprise : 
 To us it is assigned, and strangely thus 
 We are conducted to the threshold here. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 My friend, with wondrous skill thou linkest thy wish 
 With the predestined purpose of the gods.
 
 36 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Of what avail is prudence, if it fail 
 
 Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven ? 
 
 A noble man, who much hath sinned, some god 
 
 Doth summon to a dangerous enterprise, 
 
 Which to achieve appears impossible. 
 
 The hero conquers, and atoning serves 
 
 Mortals and gods, who thenceforth honour him. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Am I foredoomed to action and to hfe. 
 Would that a god from my distempered brain 
 Might chase this dizzy fever, which impels 
 My restless steps along a slippery path, 
 Stained with a mother's blood, to direful death 
 And, pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood, 
 For ever spouting from a mother's wounds, 
 Eternally defiles me ! 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Wait in peace ! 
 Thou dost increase the evil, and dost take 
 The office of the Furies on thyself. 
 Let me contrive — be still ! And when at length 
 The time for action claims our powers combined, 
 Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride. 
 With cautious boldness to achieve the event. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 I hear Ulysses speak. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Nay, mock me not. 
 Each must select the hero after whom
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 37 
 
 To climb the steep and difficult ascent 
 Of high Olympus. And to me it seems 
 That him nor stratagem nor art defiles 
 Who consecrates himself to noble deeds. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 I most esteem the brave and upright man. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 And therefore have I not desired thy counsel. 
 One step's already taken. From our guards 
 E'en now I this intelligence have gained, — 
 A strange and godlike woman holds in check 
 The execution of that bloody law : 
 Incense and prayer, and an unsullied heart, — 
 These are the gifts she offers to the gods. 
 Ptumour extols her highly : it is thought 
 That from the race of Amazon she springs, 
 And hither fled some great calamity. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its power 
 When hither came the culprit whom the curse, 
 Like murky night, envelops and pursues. 
 Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for blood 
 The ancient cruel rite again unchains : 
 The monarch's savage will decrees our death ; 
 A woman cannot save when he condemns. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 That 'tis a woman, is a ground for hope ! 
 A man, the very best, with cruelty 
 At length may so familiarise his mind. 
 His character through custom so transform. 
 That he shall come to make himself a law
 
 38 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Of what at first his very soul abhorred. 
 But woman doth retain the stamp of mind 
 She first assumed. On her we may depend 
 In good or evil with more certainty. 
 She comes : leave us alone. I dare not tell 
 At once our names, nor unreserved confide 
 Our fortunes to her. Now, retire awhile ; 
 And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again. 
 
 Scene II. — Iphigenia, Pylades. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Whence art thou ? Stranger, speak ! To me thy bear- 
 ing 
 Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian, race. 
 
 {She unbinds his chains.) 
 The freedom that I give is dangerous : 
 The gods avert the doom that threatens you ! 
 
 pylades. 
 
 Dehcious music ! dearly welcome tones 
 
 Of our own language in a foreign land ! 
 
 With joy my captive eye once more beholds 
 
 The azure mountains of my native coast. 
 
 Oh, let this joy that I too am a Greek 
 
 Convince thee, priestess ! How I need thine aid, 
 
 A moment I forget, my spirit rapt 
 
 In contemplation of so fair a vision. 
 
 If fate's dread mandate doth not seal thy lips, 
 
 From which of our illustrious races say, 
 
 Dost thou thy god-hke origin derive ? 
 
 iphigenia. 
 
 The priestess whom the goddess hath herself 
 Selected and ordained doth speak with thee.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 39 
 
 Let that suffice ; but tell me, who art thou, 
 And what unblessed o'erruling destiny- 
 Hath hither led thee with thy friend ? 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 The woe, 
 "Whose hateful presence ever dogs our steps, 
 I can with ease relate. Oh, would that thou 
 Couldst with like ease, divine one, shed on us 
 One ray of cheering hope ! We are from Crete, 
 Adrastus' sons, and I, the youngest born, 
 Named Cephalus ; my eldest brother, he, 
 Laodamus. Between us stood a youth 
 Savage and wild, who severed e'en in sport 
 The joy and concord of our early youth. 
 Long as our father led his powers at Troy, 
 Passive our mother's mandate we obeyed ; 
 But when, enriched with booty, he returned, 
 And shortly after died, a contest fierce, 
 Both for the kingdom and their father's wealth, 
 His children parted. I the eldest joined ; 
 He slew our brother ; and the Furies hence 
 Tor kindred murder dog his restless steps. 
 But to this savage shore the Delphian god 
 Hath sent us, cheered by hope. He bade us wait 
 Within his sister's consecrated fane 
 The blessed hand of aid. Captives we are ; 
 And, hither brought, before thee now we stand 
 Ordained for sacrifice. My tale is told. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Tell Troy ! Dear man, assure me of its fall. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Prostrate it lies. Oh, unto us ensure 
 Dehverance ! The promised aid of heaven
 
 40 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 More swiftly bring. Take pity on my brother. 
 
 Oh, say to him a kind, a gracious word : 
 
 But spare him when thou speakest, — earnestly 
 
 This I implore ; for all too easily. 
 
 Through joy and sorrow and through memory, 
 
 Torn and distracted is his inmost being. 
 
 A feverish madness oft doth seize on him, 
 
 Yielding his spirit, beautiful and free, 
 
 A prey to Furies. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Great as is thy woe, 
 Forget it, I conjure thee, for awhile, 
 Till I am satisfied. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 The stately town. 
 Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host. 
 Now Hes in ruins, ne'er to rise again ; 
 Yet many a hero's grave will oft recall 
 Our sad remembrance to that barbarous shore. 
 There lies Achilles and his noble friend. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 So are ye god-like forms reduced to dust ! 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Nor Palamede, nor Ajax, e'er again 
 The daylight of their native land beheld. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 He speaks not of my father, doth not name 
 Him with the fallen. He may yet survive ! 
 I may behold him ! still hope on, fond heart !
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 41 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Yet happy are the thousands who received 
 
 Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand ! 
 
 For terror wild, and end most tragical, 
 
 Some hostile, angry deity prepared, 
 
 Instead of triumph, for the home-returning. 
 
 Do human voices never reach this shore ? 
 
 Far as their sound extends, they bear the fame 
 
 Of deeds unparalleled. And is the woe 
 
 Which fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighs 
 
 To thee a secret still ? — And knowest thou not 
 
 That Clytemnestra, with ^Egisthus' aid. 
 
 Her royal consort artfully ensnared. 
 
 And murdered on the day of his return ? — 
 
 The monarch's house thou honourest ! I perceive 
 
 Thy breast with tidings vainly doth contend 
 
 Fraught with such monstrous and unlooked-for woe. 
 
 Art thou the daughter of a friend ? art born 
 
 Within the circuit of Mycene's walls ? 
 
 Conceal it not, nor call me to account 
 
 That here the horrid crime I first announce. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Proceed, and tell me how the deed was done. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 The day of his return, as from the bath 
 Arose the monarch, tranquil and refreshed. 
 His robe demanding from his consort's hand, 
 A tangled garment, compUcate with folds. 
 She o'er his shoulders flung and noble head : 
 And when, as from a net, he vainly strove 
 To extricate himself, the traitor, base 
 -^gisthus, smote him ; and, enveloped thus, 
 Great Agamemnon sought the shades below.
 
 42 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 And what reward received the base accompHce ? 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 A queen and kingdom he possessed already. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 [ Base passion prompted, then, the deed of shame ? 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 And feelings, cherished long, of deep revenge. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 How had the monarch injured Clytemnestra ? 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 By such a dreadful deed, that, if on earth 
 Aught could exculpate murder, it were this : 
 To Auhs he allured her, when the fleet 
 With unpropitious winds the goddess stayed ; 
 And there, a victim on Diana's shrine. 
 The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks, 
 Her eldest daughter doomed, Iphigenia. 
 And this, so rumour saith, within her heart 
 Planted such deep abhorrence, that forthwith 
 She to ^gisthus hath resigned herself. 
 And round her husband flung the web of death. 
 
 IPHIGENIA {veiling herself). 
 It is enough ! Thou wilt again behold me. 
 
 PYLADES {alone). 
 
 The fortune of this royal house, it seems, 
 Doth move her deeply. Whosoe'er she be,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 43 
 
 She must herself have known the monarch well ; — 
 For our good fortune, from a noble house, 
 She hath been sold to bondage. Peace, my heart ! 
 And let us steer our course with prudent zeal 
 Toward the star of hope which gleams upon us. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Iphigenia, Okestes. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Unhappy man, I only loose thy bonds 
 
 In token of a still severer doom. 
 
 The freedom which the sanctuary imparts. 
 
 Like the last life-gleam o'er the dying face. 
 
 But heralds death. I cannot, dare not, say 
 
 Your doom is hopeless ; for, with murderous hand, 
 
 Could I inflict the fatal blow myself ? 
 
 And, while I here am priestess of Diana, 
 
 None, be he who he may, dare touch your heads. 
 
 But the incensed king, should I refuse 
 
 Compliance with the rites himself enjoined. 
 
 Will choose another virgin from my train 
 
 As my successor. Then, alas ! with nought. 
 
 Save ardent wishes, can I succour you. 
 
 Much-honoured countrymen ! The humblest slave, 
 
 Who had but neared our sacred household hearth, 
 
 Is dearly welcome in a foreign land : 
 
 How with proportioned joy and blessing, then. 
 
 Shall I receive the man who doth recall 
 
 The image of the heroes, whom I learned 
 
 To honour from my parents, and who cheers 
 
 My inmost heart with flattering gleams of hope !
 
 44 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Does prudent forethought prompt thee to conceal 
 Thy name and race ? or may I hope to know 
 Who, hke a heavenly vision meets me thus ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Yes, thou shalt know me, Now conclude the tale 
 
 Of which thy brother only told me half : 
 
 Eelate their end, who, coming home from Troy, 
 
 On their own threshold met a doom severe 
 
 And most unlooked-for. Young I was in sooth 
 
 "When first conducted to this foreign shore, 
 
 Yet well I recollect the timid glance 
 
 Of wonder and amazement which I cast 
 
 On those heroic forms. When they went forth, 
 
 It seemed as though Olympus had sent down 
 
 The glorious figures of a bygone world. 
 
 To frighten Ihon ; and, above them all. 
 
 Great Agamemnon towered preeminent ! 
 
 Oh, tell me ! Fell the hero in his home. 
 
 Through Clytemnestra's and ^gisthus' wiles ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 He feU ! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Unblest Mycene ! Thus the sons 
 Of Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sown 
 Curse upon curse ; and, as the shaken weed 
 Scatters around a thousand poison-seeds. 
 So they assassins ceaseless generate. 
 Their children's children ruthless to destroy. — 
 Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale. 
 Which horror darkly hid from me before. 
 How did the last descendant of the race, —
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 45 
 
 The gentle child, to whom the gods assigned 
 The office of avenger, — how did he 
 Escape that day of blood ? Did equal fate 
 Around Orestes throw Avernus' net ? 
 Say, was he saved ? and is he still alive ? 
 And lives Electra too ? 
 
 OEESTES. 
 
 They both survive. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Golden Apollo, lend thy choicest beams ! 
 Lay them an offering at the throne of Jove ! 
 For I am poor and dumb ! 
 
 ORESTES, 
 
 If social bonds, 
 Or ties more close, connect thee with this house, 
 As this thy rapturous joy betray eth to me. 
 Oh, then, rein in thy heart and hold it fast ! 
 For insupportable the sudden plunge 
 From happiness to sorrow's gloomy depth. 
 Thou knowest only Agamemnon's death. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 And is not this intelligence enough ? 
 
 ORESTES, 
 
 Half of the horror only hast thou heard. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 What should I fear ? Orestes, Electra, live.
 
 46 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 ORESTES. 
 And fearest thou for Clytemnestra nought ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Her, neither hope nor fear hath power to save. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 She to the land of hope hath hid farewell. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Did her repentant hand shed her own blood ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Not so ; yet her own blood inflicted death. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 More plainly speak, nor leave me in suspense. 
 Uncertainty around my anxious head 
 Her dusky, thousand-folded pinion waves. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Have, then, the Powers above selected me 
 
 To be the herald of a dreadful deed, 
 
 Which in the drear and soundless realms of night 
 
 I fain would hide for ever ? 'Gainst my will 
 
 Thy gentle voice constrains me : it demands, 
 
 And shall receive, a tale of direst woe. 
 
 Electra, on the day when fell her sire. 
 
 Her brother from impending doom concealed : 
 
 Him Strophius, his father's relative. 
 
 Received with kindest care, and reared him up, 
 
 With his own son, named Pylades, who soon 
 
 Around the stranger twined love's fairest bonds.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 47 
 
 And as they grew, within their inmost souls, 
 
 There sprang the burning longing to revenge 
 
 The monarch's death. Unlooked for, and disguised, 
 
 They reached Mycene, feigning to have brought 
 
 The mournful tidings of Orestes' death. 
 
 Together with his ashes. Them the queen 
 
 Gladly receives. Within the house they enter : 
 
 Orestes to Electra shows himself ; 
 
 She fans the fires of vengeance into flame. 
 
 Which, in the sacred presence of a mother, 
 
 Had burned more dimly. Silently she leads 
 
 Her brother to the spot where fell their sire ; 
 
 Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-washed floor. 
 
 With pallid streaks anticipate revenge. 
 
 With fiery eloquence she pictured forth 
 
 Each circumstance of that atrocious deed, — 
 
 Her own oppressed and miserable life, 
 
 The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanour, 
 
 The perils threatening Agamemnon's race 
 
 From her who had become their stepmother. — 
 
 Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrust, 
 
 Which often in the house of Tantalus 
 
 With savage fury raged, — and by her son 
 
 Was Clytemnestra slain. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Immortal Powers ! 
 Whose pure and blest existence glides away 
 'Mid ever-shifting clouds, me have ye kept 
 So many years secluded from the world, 
 Ketained me near yourselves, consigned to me 
 The childlike task to feed the sacred fire, 
 And taught my spirit, like the hallowed flame, 
 With never-clouded brightness to aspire 
 To your pure mansions, — but at length to feel 
 A¥ith keener woe the horror of my house ?
 
 48 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Oh, tell me of the poor unfortunate ! 
 Speak of Orestes ! 
 
 OEESTES. 
 
 Oh, could I speak to tell thee of his death ! 
 
 Forth from the slain one's spouting blood arose 
 
 His mother's ghost ; 
 
 And to the ancient daughters of the night 
 
 Cries, " Let him not escape, — the matricide ! 
 
 Pursue the victim, dedicate to you ! " 
 
 They hear, and glare around with hollow eyes, 
 
 Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens 
 
 They stir themselves ; and from the corners creep 
 
 Their comrades, dire Eemorse and palhd Fear ; 
 
 Before them fumes a mist of Acheron ; 
 
 Perplexingly around the murderer's brow 
 
 The eternal contemplation of the past 
 
 EoUs in its cloudy circles. Once again 
 
 The grisly band, commissioned to destroy. 
 
 Pollute earth's beautiful and heaven-sown fields, 
 
 From which an ancient curse had banished them. 
 
 Their rapid feet the fugitive pursue : 
 
 They only pause to start a wilder fear. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Unhappy one : thy lot resembles his ; 
 
 Thou feelest what he, poor fugitive, must suffer. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 What sayest thou ? Why presume my fate like his ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 A brother's murder weighs upon thy soul : 
 Thy younger brother told the mournful tale.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 49 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 I cannot suffer that thy noble soul 
 
 Should by a word of falsehood be deceived. 
 
 In cunning rich and practised in deceit, 
 
 A wet) ensnaring let the stranger weave 
 
 To snare the stranger's feet : between us twain 
 
 Be truth ! 
 
 I am Orestes ! and this guilty head 
 
 Is stooping to the tomb, and covets death : 
 
 It will be welcome now in any shape. 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, for thee and for my friend 
 
 I wish deliverance ; — I desire it not. 
 
 Thou seemest to hnger here against thy will : 
 
 Contrive some means of flight, and leave me here ; 
 
 My lifeless corpse hurled headlong from the rock, 
 
 My blood shall mingle with the dashing waves. 
 
 And bring a curse upon this barbarous shore ! 
 
 Eeturn together home to lovely Greece, 
 
 With joy a new existence to commence. 
 
 (Orestes retires.) 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 At length, Fulfilment, fairest child of Jove, 
 Thou dost descend upon me from on high ! 
 How vast thine image ! scarce my straining eye 
 Can reach thy hands, which, filled with golden fruit 
 And wreaths of blessing, from Olympus' height 
 Shower treasures down. As by his bounteous gifts 
 We recognise the monarch (for what seems 
 To thousands opulence, is nought to him) ; 
 So you, ye heavenly Powers, are also known 
 By bounty long withheld, and wisely planned. 
 Ye only know what things are good for us : 
 Ye view the future's wide-extended realm. 
 While from our eye a dim or starry veU 
 The prospect shrouds. Calmly ye hear our prayers.
 
 50 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 When we like children sue for greater speed. 
 Not immature ye pluck heaven's golden fruit, 
 And woe to liim who with impatient hand, 
 His date of joy forestalling, gathers death. 
 Let not this long-awaited happiness. 
 Which yet my heart hath scarcely realised, 
 Like to the shadow of departed friends. 
 Glide vainly by with triple sorrow fraught ! 
 
 ORESTES {returning). 
 
 Dost thou for Pylades and for thyself 
 Implore the gods, blend not my name with yours : 
 Thou wilt not save the wretch whom thou wouldst join. 
 But will participate his curse and woe. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 My destiny is firmly bound to thine. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 No, say not so : alone and unattended 
 
 Let me descend to Hades. Though thou shouldst 
 
 In thine own veil enwrap the guilty one, 
 
 Thou couldst not shroud him from his wakeful foes ; 
 
 And e'en thy sacred presence, heavenly maid, 
 
 But driveth them aside and scares them not. 
 
 With brazen, impious feet they dare not tread 
 
 Within the precincts of this sacred grove ; 
 
 Yet in the distance, ever and anon, 
 
 I hear their horrid laughter, Hke the howl 
 
 Of famished wolves, beneath the tree wherein 
 
 The traveller hides. Without, encamped they lie ; 
 
 And should I quit this consecrated grove, 
 
 Shaking their serpent locks, they would arise, 
 
 And, raising clouds of dust on every side. 
 
 Ceaseless pursue their miserable prey.

 
 Iphigenia and Her 'Brother Orestes 
 
 Photogravure from a painting by W. V. Kaulbach
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 51 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Orestes, canst thou hear a friendly word ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Eeserve it for one favoured by the gods. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 To thee they give anew the light of hope. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Through clouds and smoke I see the feeble gleam 
 Of the death-stream which lights me down to helL 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Hast thou one sister only, thy Electra ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 I knew but one ; yet her kind destiny, 
 
 Which seemed to us so terrible, betimes 
 
 Eemoved an elder sister from the woe 
 
 Which o'er the house of Pelops aye impends. 
 
 Oh, cease thy questions, nor thus league thyself 
 
 With the Erinnys ! still they blow away. 
 
 With fiendish joy, the ashes from my soul, 
 
 Lest the last embers of the fiery brand, 
 
 The fatal heritage of Pelops' house. 
 
 Should there be quenched. Must, then, the fire for aye, 
 
 Dehberately kindled and supplied 
 
 With helhsh sulphur, sear my tortured soul ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 I scatter fragrant incense in the flame. 
 Oh, let the pure, the gentle, breath of love. 
 Low murmuring, cool thy bosom's fiery glow ! 
 Orestes, fondly loved, — canst thou not hear me ?
 
 52 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Hath the terrific Furies' grisly band 
 Dried up the blood of life within thy veins ? 
 Creeps there, as from the Gorgon's direful head, 
 A petrifying charm through all thy limbs ? 
 With hollow accents from a mother's blood, 
 If voices call thee to the shades below, 
 May not a sister's word, with blessing rife. 
 Call from Olympus' height help-rendering gods ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 She calls ! she calls ! — Dost thou desire my doom ? 
 Is there a Fury shrouded in thy form ? 
 Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly 
 Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she, — 
 Iphigenia, — look on me, Orestes ! 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 Thou! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 My own brother. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Hence, away, begone ! 
 I counsel thee, touch not these fatal locks ! 
 As from Creusa's bridal robe, from me 
 An inextinguishable fire is kindled. 
 Leave me ! Like Hercules, a death of shame, 
 Unworthy wretch, locked in myself, I'll die !
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 53 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thou shalt not perish ! Would that I might hear 
 One quiet word from thee ! dispel my doubts, 
 Make sure the bhss I have implored so long. 
 A wheel of joy and s orrowjn my heart 
 Ceaseless revolVyS. 1 irom a man unknown 
 With horror turn, but with resistless might 
 My inmost heart impels me to my brother. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Is this Lyseus' temple ? Doth the glow 
 Of holy rage unbridled thus possess 
 The sacred priestess ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Hear me ! Oh, look up ! 
 See how my heart, which hath been closed so long. 
 Doth open to the bhss of seeing thee, 
 The dearest treasure that the world contains, — 
 Of falling on thy neck, and folding thee 
 Within my longing arms, which have till now 
 Met the embraces of the empty wind. 
 Do not repulse me, — the eternal spring, 
 Whose crystal waters from Parnassus flow. 
 Bounds not more gaily on from rock to rock, 
 Down to the golden vale, than from my heart 
 The waters of affection freely gush, 
 And round me form a circling sea of bliss. 
 Orestes ! my brother ! 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Lovely nymph ! 
 Nor thy caresses, nor thyself, I trust : 
 Diana claims attendants more severe.
 
 54 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Aud doth avenge her desecrated fane. 
 Remove thy cu'chng arm ! Wilt thou indeed 
 Safety and love upon a youth bestow, 
 And fondly tender him earth's fairest joy ? 
 Unto my friend, more worthy than myself, 
 Impart thy favours ; 'mong yon rocks he roves : 
 Go, seek him, guide him hence, and heed not me. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Brother, command thyself, and better know 
 Thy sister, newly found ! Misconstrue not 
 Her pure and heavenly rapture, blaming it 
 As lustful heat unbridled. O ye gods, 
 Eemove delusion from his rigid gaze, 
 Lest that this moment, fraught with bliss supreme, 
 Should make us trebly wretched ! She is here, 
 Thine own, thy long-lost sister ! From the altar 
 The goddess rescued me, and placed me here, 
 Secure within her consecrated fane — 
 A captive thou, prepared for sacrifice. 
 And findest here a sister in the priestess. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Unblessed one ! So may the radiant sun 
 
 The final horror of our house behold ! 
 
 Is not Electra here ? That she with us 
 
 May also perish, nor her life prolong 
 
 For heavier destiny and direr woe. 
 
 'Tis well — I follow, priestess ! Fratricide 
 
 Is an old custom of our ancient house ; 
 
 And you, ye gods, I thank, that ye resolve 
 
 Childless to root me hence. Thee let me counsel 
 
 To view too fondly neither sun nor stars. 
 
 Come, follow to the gloomy realms below ! 
 
 As dragons, gendered in the sulphur pool,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 55 
 
 Swallow each other with voracious rage, 
 
 So our accursed race destroys itself. 
 
 Childless and guiltless come below with me ! 
 
 There's pity in thy look ! oh, gaze not so ! — 
 
 'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought 
 
 An entrance to her son Orestes' heart. 
 
 And yet his upraised arm her bosom pierced. 
 
 His mother fell ! — Appear, indignant shade ! 
 
 Within the circle step, ye fiends of hell, 
 
 Be present at the welcome spectacle, 
 
 The last, most horrible, that ye prepare ! 
 
 Nor hate, nor vengeance whets the poniard now : 
 
 A loving sister is constrained to deal 
 
 The fatal blow. Weep not ! Thou hast no guilt. 
 
 From earliest infancy I nought have loved. 
 
 As thee I could have loved, my sister. Come, 
 
 The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend. 
 
 And make an outlet for its boiling streams ! 
 
 (^He sinks exhausted.) 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Alone I cannot bear this bliss and woe. 
 Where art thou, Py lades ? Thine aid I need. 
 
 (IPHIGENIA retires.) 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 OEESTES (recovering from his swoon and standing up). 
 
 Give yet another ! reach from Lethe's stream 
 The last reviving draught of cool refreshment ! 
 Soon shall its waters in my bosom still 
 Life's fitful fever ; and my spirit then 
 Adown oblivion's stream shall glide to you, 
 Ye spirits shrouded in eternal mist.
 
 56 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 "With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose, 
 
 A weary son of earth may lave his soul ! — 
 
 What whispering sounds pervade the dreary grove ? 
 
 What hollow murmurs haunt its twihght gloom ? — 
 
 They gather round to view the stranger guest ! 
 
 Who are yon troop in high communion met, 
 
 Like an assembled family of princes ? 
 
 They mingle peacefully, of every age, 
 
 Of either sex : godlike, of kindred mould, 
 
 Appear the ghding figures. Yes, 'tis they, 
 
 The fathers of my race ! With Atreus, 
 
 In friendly converse glides Thyestes' shade ; 
 
 And children playfully around them sport. 
 
 Is there no enmity among you now ? 
 
 And is revenge extinguished with the sun ? 
 
 So am I also welcome, and may hope 
 
 To mingle in your solemn company. 
 
 Welcome, my sires ! Orestes bids you hail ! 
 
 The seed that ye have sowed, that hath he reaped^ 
 
 Laden with curses he descends to you. 
 
 But burdens here are lighter far to bear. 
 
 Eeeeive him, oh, receive him in your circle ! 
 
 Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes : 
 
 Here all are free from enmity and hate. — 
 
 Show me my father, whom I only once 
 
 In life beheld. — Art thou my father, thou, 
 
 My mother leading thus famiharly ? 
 
 Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee ? 
 
 Then may Orestes also draw near her, 
 
 And say. Behold thy son ! — my ancestors. 
 
 Behold your son, and bid him welcome here. 
 
 Among the sons of ancient Tantalus, 
 
 A kind salute on earth was murder's watchword ; 
 
 And all their joys commence beyond the grave. 
 
 Ye welcome me ! Ye bid me join your circle ! 
 
 Oh, lead me to my honoured ancestor ! 
 
 Wliere is our aged sire ? Let me behold
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 57 
 
 The dear, the venerable head of him 
 
 Who with the immortal gods in council sat. 
 
 Ye seem to shudder, and to turn away ! 
 
 What may this mean ? Suffers the godHke man ? 
 
 Alas ! the mighty gods, with ruthless hate, 
 
 To his heroic breast, with brazen chains, 
 
 Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound. 
 
 Scene III. — Oeestes, Iphigenia, Pylades. 
 
 OKESTES. 
 
 How ! Are ye come already here below ? 
 Welcome, my sister ! Still Electra fails : 
 Oh, that some kindly god, with gentle arrow. 
 Her too, full speedily, would downward send ! 
 Thee, hapless friend, I must compassionate ! 
 Come with me ! Come ! To Pluto's gloomy throne, 
 There to salute our hosts like stranger guests. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Celestial pair, who from the realms above 
 
 By night and day shed down the beauteous Hght 
 
 To cheer mankind, but who may not illume 
 
 Departed spirits, save a mortal pair, 
 
 A brother's and a sister's anguish pity ! 
 
 For thou, Diana, lovest thy gentle brother 
 
 P)eyond what earth and heaven can offer thee ; 
 
 And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn 
 
 Thy virgin face to his eternal light. 
 
 Let not my only brother, found so late, 
 
 Eave in the darkness of insanity ! 
 
 And is thy will, when thou didst here conceal me, 
 
 At length fulfilled, — wouldst thou to me through him. 
 
 To him through me, thy gracious aid extend, —
 
 58 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse, 
 Lest vainly pass the precious hours of safety. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove. 
 
 And this blest light, which shines not on the dead ? 
 
 Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend. 
 
 Who hold the hving in their firm embrace ? 
 
 Us firmly grasp : we are not empty shades. 
 
 Mark well my words ! Collect thy scattered thoughts ! 
 
 Attend ! Each moment is of priceless worth ; 
 
 "A-nd our return hangs on a slender thread. 
 
 Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin. 
 
 ORESTES {to IPHIGENIA). 
 
 My sister, let me for the first time taste. 
 
 With open heart, pure joy within thine arms ! 
 
 Ye gods, who charge the heavy clouds with dread, 
 
 And, sternly gracious, send the long-sought rain 
 
 With thunder and the rush of mighty winds, 
 
 A horrid deluge on the trembling earth, 
 
 Yet dissipate at length man's dread suspense. 
 
 Exchanging timid wonder's anxious gaze 
 
 For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise, 
 
 When, in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves, 
 
 Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam. 
 
 And Iris colours with a magic hand 
 
 The dusty texture of the parting clouds, 
 
 Oh, let me also in my sister's arms. 
 
 And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy 
 
 With grateful thanks the bhss ye now bestow; 
 
 My heart assures me that your curses cease. 
 
 The dread Eumenides at length retire : 
 
 The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear 
 
 Behind them closing with a thunderous clang. 
 
 A quickening odour from the earth ascends,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 59 
 
 Inviting me to chase, upon its plains, 
 The joys of hfe and deeds of high emprise. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Lose not the moments which are limited ! 
 The favouring gale, which swells our parting sail, 
 Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy. 
 Quick counsel and resolve the time demands. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 When the Powers on high decree 
 
 For a feeble child of earth 
 
 Dire perplexity and woe, 
 
 And his spirit doom to pass 
 
 With tumult wild from joy to grief, 
 
 And back again from grief to joy, 
 
 In fearful alternation, 
 
 They in mercy then provide, 
 
 In the precincts of his home, 
 
 Or upon the distant shore. 
 
 That to him may never fail 
 
 Ready help in hours of need, 
 
 A tranquil, faithful friend. 
 
 Oh, bless, ye heavenly Powers, our Pylades, 
 
 And whatsoever he may undertake ! 
 
 He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth, 
 
 And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel : 
 
 Por tranquil is his soul ; he guardeth there 
 
 Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower, 
 
 And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours
 
 6o IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Comfort and counsel for the sore distressed. 
 
 He tore me from my brother, upon whom, 
 
 With fond amaze, I gazed and gazed again : 
 
 I could not realise my happiness, 
 
 Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not 
 
 The danger's near approach that threatens us. 
 
 To execute their project of escape. 
 
 They hastened to the sea, where, in a bay, 
 
 Their comrades in the vessel lie concealed, 
 
 Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied 
 
 With artful answers, should the monarch send 
 
 To urge the sacrifice. Alas ! I see 
 
 I must consent to follow like a child : 
 
 I have not learned deception, nor the art 
 
 To gain with crafty wiles my purposes. 
 
 Detested falsehood ! it doth not relieve 
 
 The breast like words of truth : it comforts not, 
 
 But is a torment in the forger's heart. 
 
 And, like an arrow which a god directs, 
 
 Fhes back and wounds the archer. Through my heart 
 
 One fear doth chase another : perhaps with rage, 
 
 Again on the unconsecrated shore. 
 
 The Furies' grisly band my brother seize. 
 
 Perchance they are surprised. Methinks I hear 
 
 The tread of arm^d men. A messenger 
 
 Is coming from the king, with hasty steps. 
 
 How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul, 
 
 Now that I gaze upon the face of one 
 
 Whom with a word untrue I must encounter ! 
 
 Scene II. — Iphigenia, A;rkas. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice ! 
 Impatiently the king and people wait.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 6i 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 I had performed my duty and thy will, 
 Had not an unforeseen impediment 
 The execution of my purpose thwarted. 
 
 AEKAS. 
 
 What is it that obstructs the king's commands ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Chance, which from mortals will not brook control. 
 
 AKKAS. 
 
 Possess me with the reason, that with speed 
 I may inform the king, who hath decreed 
 The death of both. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The gods have not decreed it. 
 The elder of these men doth bear the guilt 
 Of kindred murder : on his steps attend 
 The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane 
 They seized upon their prey, polluting thus 
 The holy sanctuary. I hasten now, 
 Together with my virgin-train, to bathe 
 The goddess' image in the sea, and there 
 With solemn rites its purity restore. 
 Let none presume our silent march to follow ! 
 
 AKKAS. 
 
 This hindrance to the monarch I'll announce : 
 Commence not thou the rite till he permit. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The priestess interferes alone in this.
 
 62 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 An incident so strange the king should know. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Here nor his counsel nor command avails. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Oft are the great consulted out of form. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Do not insist on what I must refuse. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 A needful and a just demand refuse not. 
 
 IPHIGENIA, 
 
 I yield, if thou delay not. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 I with speed 
 Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon 
 Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king's reply. 
 There is a message I would gladly bear him, — 
 'Twould quickly banish aU perplexity : 
 Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend's advice. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 I willingly have done whate'er I could. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 E'en now 'tis not too late to change thy purpose. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 To do so is, alas ! beyond our power.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 63 
 
 AREAS. 
 What thou wouldst shun, thou deemest impossible. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible. 
 
 AEKAS. 
 
 Wilt thou so calmly venture everything ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 My fate I have committed to the gods. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 The gods are wont to save by human means. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 By their appointment everything is done. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Believe me, all doth now depend on thee. 
 
 The irritated temper of the king 
 
 Alone condemns these men to bitter death. 
 
 The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice 
 
 And bloody service long have been disused ; 
 
 Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast 
 
 In foreign regions, there themselves have felt 
 
 How godlike to the exiled wanderer 
 
 The friendly countenance of man appears. 
 
 Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid ! 
 
 With ease thou canst thy sacred task fulfil ; 
 
 For nowhere doth benignity, which comes 
 
 In human form from heaven, so quickly gain 
 
 An empire o'er the heart, as where a race, 
 
 Gloomy and savage, full of hfe and power,
 
 64 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Without external guidance, and oppressed 
 With vague forebodings, bear life's heavy load. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend 
 According to thy will. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 While there is time, 
 Nor labour nor persuasion shall be spared. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thy labour but occasions pain to me ; 
 Both are in vain : therefore, I pray, depart. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 I summon pain to aid me : 'tis a friend 
 Who counsels wisely. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Though it shakes my soul. 
 It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Can, then, a gentle soul repugnance feel 
 For benefits bestowed by one so noble ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Yes, when the donor, for those benefits. 
 Instead of gratitude, demands myself. 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Who no affection feels doth never want 
 •Excuses. To the king I will relate
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 65 
 
 What hath befallen. Oh that in thy soul 
 Thou wouldst revolve his noble conduct to thee 
 Since thy arrival to the present day ! 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 IPHIGENIA (atom). 
 
 These words at an unseasonable hour 
 
 Produce a strong revulsion in my breast : 
 
 I am alarmed ! — For as the rushing tide 
 
 In rapid currents eddies o'er the rocks 
 
 Which lie among the sand upon the shore, 
 
 E'en so a stream of joy o'erwhelmed my souL 
 
 I grasped what had appeared impossible. 
 
 It was as though another gentle cloud 
 
 Around me lay, to raise me from the earth, 
 
 And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep 
 
 Which the kind goddess shed around my brow. 
 
 What time her circling arm from danger snatched me. 
 
 My brother forcibly engrossed my heart ; 
 
 I listened only to his friend's advice ; 
 
 My soul rushed eagerly to rescue them ; 
 
 And as the mariner with joy surveys 
 
 The lessening breakers of a desert isle, 
 
 So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice 
 
 Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream, 
 
 Reminding me that those whom I forsake 
 
 Are also men. Deceit doth now become 
 
 Doubly detested. O my soul, be still ! 
 
 Beginnest thou now to tremble and to doubt ? 
 
 Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth 
 
 Must thou abandon, and, embarked once more, 
 
 At random drift upon tumultuous waves, 
 
 A stranger to thyself and to the world ?
 
 66 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Scene IV. — Iphigenia, Pylades. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Where is she ? that my words with speed may tell 
 The joyful tidings of our near escape ! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Oppressed with gloomy care, I much require 
 The certain comfort thou dost promise me. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Thy brother is restored ! The rocky paths 
 Of this unconsecrated shore we trod 
 In friendly converse ; while behind us lay, 
 Unmarked by us, the consecrated grove ; 
 And ever with increasing glory shone 
 The fire of youth around his noble brow. 
 Courage and hope his glowing eye inspired ; 
 And his exultant heart resigned itself 
 To the delight, the joy, of rescuing 
 Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades ! 
 
 And from those lips which breathe such welcome news. 
 
 Be the sad note of anguish never heard ! 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 I bring yet more ; for fortune, hke a prince, 
 Comes not alone, but well accompanied. 
 Our friends and comrades we have also found. 
 Within a bay they had concealed the ship,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 67 
 
 And mournful sat expectant. They beheld 
 
 Thy brother, and a joyous shout upraised, 
 
 Imploring him to haste the parting hour. 
 
 Each hand impatient longed to grasp the oar ; 
 
 While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze, 
 
 Perceived by all, unfurled its wings auspicious. 
 
 Let us then hasten : guide me to the fane. 
 
 That I may tread the sanctuary, and win 
 
 With sacred awe the goal of our desires. 
 
 I can unaided on my shoulder bear 
 
 The goddess' image : how I long to feel 
 
 The precious burden ! 
 
 (While speaking the last words, he approaches the 
 Temple, without perceiving that he is not fol- 
 lowed hy Iphigenia : at length he turns 
 round.) 
 
 Wliy thus lingering stand ? 
 
 Why art thou silent ? wherefore thus confused ? 
 
 Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss ? 
 
 Inform me, hast thou to the king announced 
 
 The prudent message we agreed upon ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 I have, dear Pylades ; yet wilt thou chide. 
 Thy very aspect is a mute reproach. 
 The royal messenger arrived ; and I, 
 According to thy counsel, framed my speech. 
 He seemed surprised, and urgently besought, 
 That to the monarch I should first announce 
 The rite unusual, and attend his will. 
 I now await the messenger's return. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Danger again doth hover o'er our heads ! 
 Alas ! Why hast thou failed to shroud thyself 
 Within the veil of sacerdotal rites ?
 
 ■68 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 I never have employed them as a veil. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Pure soul ! thy scruples will destroy alike 
 Thyself and us. Why did I not foresee 
 Such an emergency, and tutor thee 
 This counsel also wisely to elude ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Chide only me, for mine alone the blame. 
 Yet other answer could I not return 
 To him, who strongly and with reason urged 
 What my own heart acknowledged to be right. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 The danger thickens ; but let us be firm, 
 Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves. 
 Calmly await the messenger's return, 
 And then stand fast, whatever his reply ; 
 For the appointment of such sacred rites 
 Doth to the priestess, not the king, belong. 
 Should he demand the stranger to behold. 
 Who is by madness heavily oppressed, 
 Evasively pretend, that in the fane, 
 Well guarded, thou retainest him and me. 
 Thus you secure us time to fly with speed, 
 Bearing the sacred treasure from this race, 
 Unworthy its possession. Phoebus sends 
 Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word, 
 Ere we the first conditions have performed. 
 Free is Orestes, from the curse absolved ! 
 Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle 
 Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales ! 
 Thence to Mycene, that she may revive ;
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 69 
 
 That from the ashes of the extinguished hearth, 
 The household gods may joyously arise, 
 And beauteous fire illumine their abode ! 
 Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew 
 The fragrant incense. O'er that threshold thou 
 Shalt life and blessing once again dispense, 
 The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace 
 With the fresh bloom of renovated hfe. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun, 
 Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns, 
 Struck by thy words' invigorating ray. 
 How dear the counsel of a present friend, 
 Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one 
 In silence droops ! for, locked within his breast. 
 Slowly are ripened purpose and resolve, 
 Which friendship's genial warmth had soon matured. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Farewell ! I haste to reassure our friends, 
 Who anxiously await us : then with speed 
 I will return, and, hid within the brake, 
 Attend thy signal. — Wherefore, all at once. 
 Doth anxious thought o'ercloud thy brow serene ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Forgive me ! As light clouds athwart the sun. 
 So cares and fears float darkling o'er my soul. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Oh, banish fear ! With danger it hath formed 
 A close alHance, — they are constant friends.
 
 70 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 It is an honest scruple, which forbids 
 That I should cunningly deceive the king, 
 And plunder him who was my second father. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Him thou dost fly, who would have slain thy brother. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 To me, at least, he hath been ever kind. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 What fate commands is not ingratitude. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Alas ! it still remains ingratitude : 
 Necessity alone can justify it. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Thee, before gods and men, it justifies. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 But my own heart is still unsatisfied. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 ( I cannot argue, I can only feel. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 71 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Then only doth the heart know perfect ease, 
 When not a stain pollutes it. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 In this fane 
 Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us 
 To be less strict with others and ourselves : 
 Thou'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful 
 Is human nature, and its varied ties 
 Are so involved and complicate, that none 
 May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure, 
 And walk without perplexity through life. 
 Nor are we called upon to judge ourselves 
 With circumspection to pursue his path, 
 Is the immediate duty of a man ; 
 For seldom can he rightly estimate 
 Or his past conduct or his present deeds. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Almost thou dost persuade me to consent. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted ? 
 To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend, 
 One path presents itself ; and canst thou ask 
 If we shall follow it ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Still let me pause, 
 For such injustice thou couldst not thyself 
 Calmly return for benefits received. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 If we should perish, bitter self-reproach, 
 Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.
 
 72 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 It seems thou art not used to suffer much, 
 
 When, to escape so great calamity, 
 
 Thou canst refuse to utter one false word. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Oh, that I bore withm a manly heart ! 
 Which, when it hath conceived a bold resolve, 
 'Gainst every other voice doth close itself. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 In vain thou dost refuse : with iron hand 
 
 Necessity commands ; her stern decree 
 
 Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves 
 
 Must yield submission. In dread silence rules 
 
 The uncounselled sister of eternal fate. 
 
 What she appoints thee to endure, — endure ; 
 
 What to perform, — perform. The rest thou knowest. 
 
 Ere long I will return, and then receive 
 
 The seal of safety from thy sacred hand. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 IPHIGENIA (alone). 
 
 I must obey him, for I see my friends 
 
 Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate 
 
 Doth with increasing anguish move my heart. 
 
 May I no longer feed the silent hope 
 
 Which in my solitude I fondly cherished ? 
 
 Shall the dire curse eternally endure ? 
 
 And shall our fated race ne'er rise again 
 
 With blessings crowned ? — All mortal things decay ! 
 
 The noblest powers, the purest joys of life, 
 
 At length subside, — then, wherefore not the curse ? 
 
 And have I vainly hoped, that guarded here, 
 
 Secluded from the fortunes of my race,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 .,^^/i\ 
 
 I, with pure heart and hands, some future day, 
 
 Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house ? 
 
 Scarce was my brother in my circling arms. 
 
 From raging madness suddenly restored, 
 
 Scarce had the ship, long prayed for, neared the strand, 
 
 Once more to waft me to my native shores, 
 
 When unrelenting fate, with iron hand, 
 
 A double crime enjoins ; commanding me 
 
 To steal the image, sacred and revered, 
 
 Confided to my care, and him deceive 
 
 To whom I owe my hfe and destiny. 
 
 Let not abhorrence spring within my heart ! 
 
 Nor the old Titan's hate toward you, ye gods. 
 
 Infix its vulture talons in my breast ! 
 
 Save me, and save your image in my soul ! 
 
 An ancient song comes back upon mine ear, — 
 I had forgotten it, and willingly, — 
 The Parcse's song, which horribly they sang, 
 What time, hurled headlong from his golden seat, 
 Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend 
 Keen anguish suffered : savage was their breast, 
 A'ld horrible their song. In days gone by. 
 When we were children, oft our ancient nurse 
 Would sing it to us ; and I marked it well. 
 
 Oh, fear the immortals, 
 Ye children of men ! 
 Eternal dominion 
 They hold in their hands. 
 And o'er their wide empire 
 Wield absolute sway. 
 
 Whom they have exalted 
 Let him fear them most ! 
 Around golden tables,
 
 74 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 On cliffs and clouds resting, 
 The seats are prepared. 
 
 If contest ariseth, 
 
 The guests are hurled headlong 
 
 Disgraced and dishonoured, 
 
 To gloomy abysses, 
 
 And, fettered in darkness. 
 
 Await, with vain longing, 
 
 A juster decree. 
 
 But in feasts everlasting. 
 Around the gold tables, 
 Still dwell the immortals. 
 From mountain to mountain 
 They stride ; while, ascending 
 From fathomless chasms. 
 The breath of the Titans, 
 Half-stifled with anguish, 
 Like volumes of incense 
 Fumes up to the skies. 
 
 From races ill-fated, 
 Their aspect joy-bringing. 
 Oft turn the celestials, 
 And shun in the children 
 To gaze on the features, 
 Once-loved and still speaking, 
 Of their mighty sire. 
 
 So chanted the Parcse : 
 The banished one hearkens 
 The song ; the hoar captive. 
 Immured in his dungeon, 
 His children's doom ponders, 
 And boweth his head.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 75 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene L — Thoas, Areas. 
 
 ARKAS. 
 
 I OWN I am perplexed, and scarcely know 
 
 'Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion, — 
 
 Whether the priestess aids the captives' flight, 
 
 Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it. 
 
 'Tis rumoured that the ship which brought them here 
 
 Is lurking somewhere in a bay concealed. 
 
 This stranger's madness, these new lustral rites, 
 
 The specious pretext for delay, excite 
 
 Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Summon the priestess to attend me here ; 
 
 Then go with speed, and strictly search the shore, 
 
 From yonder headland to Diana's grove ; 
 
 Forbear to violate its sacred depths ; 
 
 A watchful ambush set ; attack and seize, 
 
 According to your wont, whome'er ye find. 
 
 (Akkas retires.) 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 THOAS (alone). 
 
 Fierce anger rages in my riven breast. 
 First against her, whom I esteemed so pure ; 
 Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity 
 Hath fashioned her for treason. Man is soon 
 Inured to slavery, and quickly learns 
 Submission, when of freedom quite deprived.
 
 76 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 If she had fallen in the savage hands 
 
 Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage 
 
 Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life, 
 
 She would have recognised her destiny. 
 
 Have shed before the shrine the strangers' blood, 
 
 And duty named what was necessity. 
 
 Now my forbearance in her breast allures 
 
 Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hoped 
 
 To bind her to me : rather she contrives 
 
 To shape an independent destiny. 
 
 She won my heart through flattery, and, now 
 
 That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends 
 
 By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems 
 
 A worthless and prescriptive property. 
 
 Scene III. — Iphigenia, Thoas. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Me hast thou summoned ? wherefore art thou here ? 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Wherefore delay the sacrifice ? inform me. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 From thee I wish to hear them more at large. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 The goddess for reflection grants thee time. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 To thee this time seems also opportune.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 77 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 If to this cruel deed thy heart is steeled, 
 Thou shouldst not come ! A king, who meditates 
 A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow, 
 Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse, 
 And leave the monarch's presence undefiled. 
 Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death : 
 Flaming destruction then his ministers 
 Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head ; 
 While he abideth high above the storm, 
 Calm and untroubled, an impassive god. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 No priestess, king, but Agamemnon's daughter ! 
 While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words ! 
 A princess now, — and thinkest thou to command me ? 
 From youth I have been tutored to obey. 
 My parents first and then the deity ; 
 And, thus obeying, ever hath my soul 
 Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now 
 Have I been taught comphance with the voice 
 And savage mandates of a man. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Not I: 
 An ancient law doth thy obedience claim. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws 
 Which they can wield as weapons. But to me 
 Another law, one far more ancient, speaks,
 
 78 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 And doth command me to withstand thee, king ! 
 That law declaring sacred every stranger. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 These men, methinks, he very near thy heart, 
 When sympathy with them can lead thee thus 
 To violate discretion's primal law, 
 That those in power should never be provoked. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Speaking or silent, thou canst always know 
 
 What is, and ever must be, in my heart. 
 
 Doth not remembrance of a common doom 
 
 To soft compassion melt the hardest heart ? 
 
 How much more mine ? in them I see myself. 
 
 I trembling kneeled before the altar once, 
 
 And solemnly the shade of early death 
 
 Environed me. Aloft the knife was raised 
 
 To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life ; 
 
 A dizzy horror overwhelmed my soul ; 
 
 My eyes grew dim ; — I found myself in safety. 
 
 Are we not bound to render the distressed 
 
 The gracious kindness from the gods received ? 
 
 Thou knowest we are, and yet wilt thou compel me ? 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Obey thine office, priestess, not the king. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Cease ! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force 
 Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness. 
 Though woman, I am born as free as man. 
 Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 79 
 
 And thou requiredst what became him not, 
 His arm and trusty weapon would defend 
 His bosom's freedom. I have only words ; 
 But it becomes a noble-minded man 
 To treat with due respect the words of woman. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 I more respect them than a brother's sword. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Uncertain ever is the chance of arms ; 
 
 No prudent warrior doth despise his foe ; 
 
 Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity 
 
 Hath nature left the weak, — she gives him craft 
 
 And wily cunning : artful he delays, 
 
 Evades, eludes, and finally escapes. 
 
 Such arms are justified by violence. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 But circumspection countervails deceit. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Which a pure spirit doth abbor to use. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Do not incautiously condemn thyself. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul, 
 Courageously to ward the first attack 
 Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me ! 
 Do I, then, stand before thee weaponless ?
 
 So IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand, 
 
 More potent far than instruments of war. 
 
 Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me 
 
 Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend ? 
 
 Must I implore a miracle from heaven ? 
 
 Is there no power within my spirit's depths ? 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Extravagant thy interest in the fate 
 
 Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are 
 
 For whom thy heart is thus so deeply moved. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 They are — they seem at least — I think them Greeks. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Thy countrymen : no doubt they have renewed 
 The pleasing picture of return. 
 
 IPHIGENIA (after a pause). 
 
 Doth man 
 Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds ? 
 Doth he alone to his heroic breast 
 Clasp the impossible ? What call we great ? 
 What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift 
 With shuddering horror the narrator's soul, 
 But those which, with improbable success. 
 The valiant have attempted ? Shall the man 
 Who all alone steals on his foes by night. 
 And, raging like an unexpected fire, 
 Destroys the slumbering host, and, pressed at length 
 By roused opponents on his foemen's steeds, 
 Ketreats with booty, be alone extolled ? 
 Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land 
 
 Of thieves and robbers ? Is nought left for us ? 
 
 Must gentle woman quite forego her nature, 
 
 Force against force employ, — Hke Amazons, — 
 
 Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily 
 
 Eevenge oppression ? In my heart I feel 
 
 The stirrings of a noble enterprise ; 
 
 But if I fail — severe reproach, alas ! 
 
 And bitter misery will be my doom. 
 
 Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods ! 
 
 Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are. 
 
 Now prove it by your countenance and aid ! 
 
 Honour the truth in me ! Attend, king ! 
 
 A secret plot deceitfully is laid : 
 
 Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain ; 
 
 They have departed hence, and seek their friends, 
 
 Who, with the ship, await them on the shore. 
 
 The eldest, — whom dire madness lately seized, 
 
 And hath abandoned now, — he is Orestes, 
 
 My brother, and the other Pylades, 
 
 His early friend and faithful confidant. 
 
 From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore 
 
 With a divine command to steal away 
 
 The image of Diana, and to him 
 
 Bear back the sister thither ; and for this 
 
 He promised to the blood-stained matricide. 
 
 The Fury-haunted son, dehverance. 
 
 I have surrendered now into thy hands 
 
 The remnants of the house of Tantalus. 
 
 Destroy us — if thou canst. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 And dost thou think 
 That the uncultured Scythian will attend 
 The voice of truth and of humanity 
 Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not ?
 
 82 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 'Tis heard 
 By every one, born 'neath whatever clime, 
 Within whose bosom flows the stream of hfe. 
 Pure and unhindered. — What thy thought ? king ! 
 What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul ? 
 Is it destruction ? Let me perish first ! 
 For now, deliverance hopeless, I perceive 
 The dreadful peril into which I have 
 With rash precipitancy plunged my friends. 
 Alas ! I soon shall see them bound before me ! 
 How to my brother shall I say farewell ? — 
 I, the unhappy author of his death. 
 Ne'er can I gaze again in his dear eyes ! 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 The traitors have contrived a cunning web, 
 And cast it round thee, who, secluded long, 
 Givest willing credence to thine own desires. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 No, no ! I'd pledge my life these men are true. 
 
 And shouldst thou find them otherwise, king, 
 
 Then let them perish both, and cast me forth, 
 
 That on some rock-girt island's dreary shore 
 
 I may atone my folly ! Are they true, 
 
 And is this man indeed my dear Orestes, 
 
 My brother, long implored, release us both, 
 
 And o'er us stretch the kind protecting arm 
 
 Which long hath sheltered me. My noble sire 
 
 Fell through his consort's guilt, — she by her son : 
 
 On him alone the hope of Atreus' race 
 
 Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand. 
 
 Let me depart to purify our house ! 
 
 Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise : thou didst swear. 
 
 That, were a safe return provided me,
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 83 
 
 I should be free to go. The hour is come. 
 
 A king doth never grant like comihon men, 
 
 Merely to gain a respite from petition ; 
 
 Nor promise what he hopes will ne'er be claimed. 
 
 Then first he feels his dignity supreme 
 
 When he can make the long-expecting happy. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 As fire opposes water, and doth seek 
 
 With hissing rage to overcome its foe, 
 
 So doth my anger strive against thy words. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Let mercy, Hke the consecrated flame 
 Of silent sacrifice, encircled round 
 With songs of gratitude and joy and praise, 
 Above the tumult gently rise to heaven. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 How often hath this voice assuaged my soul ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace. 
 
 THOAS, 
 
 Large thy demand within so short a time. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Beneficence doth no reflection need. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 'Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.
 
 84; IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 'Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn. 
 Consider not : act as thy feelings prompt thee. 
 
 Scene IV. — Orestes {armed), Iphigenia, Thoas. 
 
 ORESTES {addressing his followers). 
 
 Eedouble your exertions ! hold them back ! 
 Few moments will suffice : maintain your ground, 
 And keep a passage open to the ship 
 For me and for my sister. 
 
 {To Iphigenia, without perceiving Thoas.) 
 Come with speed ! 
 We are betrayed, — brief time remains for fhght. 
 
 {He perceives the king.) 
 
 Thoas {laying his hand on his sword). 
 
 None in my presence with impunity 
 His naked weapon wears. 
 
 iphigenia. 
 
 Do not profane 
 Diana's sanctuary with rage and blood. 
 Command your people to forbear awhile, 
 And listen to the priestess, to the sister. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Say, who is he that threatens us ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 In him 
 Eevere the king, who was my second father. 
 Forgive me, brother, that my childlike heart 
 Hath placed our fate thus wholl}^ in his hands.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 85 
 
 I have betrayed your meditated flight, 
 And thus from treachery redeemed my souL 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 "Will he permit our peaceable return ? 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply. 
 
 OEESTES {sheathing his sword). 
 Then, speak ! thou seest I listen to thy words. 
 
 Scene V. — Orestes, IphIgenia, Thoas. 
 
 Enter Pylades, soon after him Arkas, hoth with drawn 
 swords. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 Do not delay ! our friends are putting forth 
 Their final strength, and, yielding step by step, 
 Are slowly driven backward to the sea, — 
 A conference of princes find I here ? 
 Is this the sacred person of the king ? 
 
 AREAS. 
 
 Calmly, as doth become thee, thou dost stand, 
 
 king, surrounded by thine enemies ! 
 
 Soon their temerity shall be chastised : 
 
 Their yielding followers fly, — their ship is ours : 
 
 Speak but the word, and it is wrapt in flames. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Go, and command my people to forbear ! 
 Let none annoy the foe while we confer. 
 
 (Areas retires.)
 
 86 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 I willingly consent. Go, Pylades ! 
 
 Collect the remnant of our friends, and wait 
 
 The appointed issue of our enterprise. 
 
 (Pylades retires.) 
 
 Scene VI. — Iphigenia, Thoas, Orestes. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Relieve my cares ere ye begin to speak. 
 
 I fear contention, if thou wilt not hear 
 
 The voice of equity, O king, — if thou 
 
 Wnt not, my brother, curb thy headstrong youth ! 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 I, as becomes the elder, check my rage. 
 
 Now answer me : how dost thou prove thyself 
 
 The priestess' brother, Agamemnon's son ? 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Behold the sword with which the hero slew 
 The valiant Trojans. From his murderer 
 I took the weapon, and implored the gods 
 To grant me Agamemnon's mighty arm. 
 Success, and valour, with a death more noble. 
 Select one of the leaders of thy host. 
 And place the best as my opponent here. 
 Where'er on earth the sons of heroes dwell, 
 This boon is to the stranger ne'er refused. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 This privilege hath ancient custom here 
 To strangers ne'er accorded.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 87 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 Then from us 
 Oommence the novel custom ! A whole race 
 In imitation soon will consecrate 
 Its monarch's noble action into law. 
 Nor let me only for our liberty, — 
 Let me, a stranger, for all strangers fight. 
 If I should fall, my doom be also theirs ; 
 But, if kind fortune crown me with success, 
 Let none e'er tread this shore, and fail to meet 
 The beaming eye of sympathy and love. 
 Or unconsoled depart ! 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Thou dost not seem 
 Unworthy of thy boasted ancestry. 
 ■Great is the number of the vahant men 
 Wlio wait upon me ; but I will myself. 
 Although advanced in years, oppose the foe, 
 And am prepared to try the chance of arms. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 No, no ! such bloody proofs are not required. 
 LTnhand thy weapon, king ! my lot consider ; 
 Rash combat oft immortalises man ; 
 If he should fall, he is renowned in song : 
 But after-ages reckon not the tears 
 Which ceaseless the forsaken woman sheds ; 
 And poets tell not of the thousand nights 
 Consumed in weeping, and the dreary days, 
 "Wherein her anguished soul, a prey to grief, 
 Doth vainly yearn to call her loved one back. 
 Fear warned me to beware lest robbers' wiles 
 Might lure me from this sanctuary, and then 
 Betray me into bondage. Anxiously
 
 88 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 I questioned them, each circumstauce explored, 
 Demanded proofs ; now is my heart assured. 
 See here, the mark on his right hand impressed 
 As of three stars, which on his natal day- 
 Were by the priest declared to indicate 
 Some dreadful deed therewith to be performed. 
 And then this scar, which doth his eyebrow cleave, 
 Redoubles my conviction. When a child, 
 Electra, rash and inconsiderate, — 
 Such was her nature, — loosed him from her arms : 
 He fell against a tripos. Oh, 'tis he ! — 
 Shall I adduce the likeness to his sire, 
 Or the deep rapture of my inmost heart, 
 In further token of assurance, king ? 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 E'en though thy words had banished every doubt, 
 And I had curbed the anger in my breast. 
 Still must our arms decide. I see no peace. 
 Their purpose, as thou didst thyself confess, 
 Was to deprive me of Diana's image. 
 And think ye I will look contented on ? 
 The Greeks are wont to cast a longing eye 
 Upon the treasures of barbarians, — 
 A golden fleece, good steeds, or daughters fair ; — 
 But force and guile not always have availed 
 To lead them, with their booty, safely home. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 The image shall not be a cause of strife ! 
 We now perceive the error which the god. 
 Our journey here commanding, hke a veil, 
 Threw o'er our minds. His counsel I implored. 
 To free me from the Furies' grisly band. 
 He answered, " Back to Greece the sister bring.
 
 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 89 
 
 Who in the sanctuary on Tauris' shore 
 
 Unwillingly abides ; so ends the curse ! " 
 
 To Phoebus' sister we apphed the words, 
 
 And he referred to thee. The bonds severe, 
 
 Which held thee from us, holy one, are rent ; 
 
 And thou art ours once more. At thy blest touch, 
 
 I felt myself restored. Within thine arms, 
 
 Madness once more around me coiled its folds. 
 
 Crushing the marrow in my frame, and then 
 
 For ever, like a serpent, fled to hell. 
 
 Through thee the daylight gladdens me anew : 
 
 The counsel of the goddess now shines forth 
 
 In all its beauty and beneficence. 
 
 Like to a sacred image, unto which 
 
 An oracle immutably hath bound 
 
 A city's welfare, thee she bore away, < 
 
 Protectress of our house, and guarded here 
 
 Within this holy stillness, to become 
 
 A blessing to thy brother and thy race. 
 
 Now when each passage to escape seems closed, 
 
 And safety hopeless, thou dost give us all. 
 
 king, inchne thine heart to thoughts of peace ! 
 
 Let her fulfil her mission, and complete 
 
 The consecration of our father's house ; 
 
 Me to their purified abode restore, 
 
 And place upon my brow the ancient crown ! 
 
 Eequite the blessing which her presence brought thee^ 
 
 And let me now my nearer right enjoy ! 
 
 Cunning and force, the proudest boast of man. 
 
 Fade in the lustre of her perfect truth ; 
 
 Nor unrequited will a noble mind 
 
 Leave confidence, so childlike and so pure. 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Think on thy promise : let thy heart be moved 
 By what a true and honest tongue hath spoken !
 
 90 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS 
 
 Look on us, king ! an opportunity 
 
 For such a noble deed not oft occurs. 
 
 Eefuse thou canst not, — give thy quick consent. 
 
 THOAS. 
 
 Then, go ! 
 
 IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Not so, my king ! I cannot part 
 Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee : 
 Banish us not ! the sacred right of guests 
 Still let us claim : so not eternally 
 Shall we be severed. Honoured and beloved 
 As mine own father was, art thou by me ; 
 And this impression in my soul abides. 
 Let but the least among thy people bring 
 Back to mine ear the tones I heard from thee, 
 Or should I on the humblest see thy garb, 
 I will with joy receive him as a god. 
 Prepare his couch myself, beside our hearth 
 Invite him to a seat, and only ask 
 Touching thy fate and thee. Oh, may the gods 
 To thee the merited reward impart 
 Of all thy kindness and benignity ! 
 Farewell ! Oh, turn thou not away, but give 
 One kindly word of parting in return ! 
 So shall the wind more gently swell our sails. 
 And from our eyes with softened anguish flow 
 The tears of separation. Fare thee well ! 
 And graciously extend to me thy hand, 
 In pledge of ancient friendship. 
 
 THOAS {extending his hand). 
 
 Fare thee well !
 
 Torquato Tasso 
 
 A Drama in Five Acts 
 Translated by Anna Swanwick 
 
 This drama was written first in prose : during Goethe's residence 
 at Rome in 1786-88 he began to versify it, and completed it on his 
 journey home.
 
 Introduction 
 
 The annals of biography offer no page the perusal ol 
 which awakens a greater variety of emotions than that 
 which records the fate of Torquato Tasso. This great 
 poet, distinguished ahke by his genius and his misfor- 
 tunes, concentrates in his own person the deepest in- 
 terests of humanity ; while the mystery which broods 
 over his derangement and his love imparts to his story 
 the air rather of poetic fiction than of sober truth. 
 Goethe's poem, founded upon the residence of Tasso at 
 the co urt of ^ Eenara . is justly celebrated for its fine 
 delineations of character and its profound insight into 
 the depths of the human heart. It exhibits a striking 
 picture of the great bard at the most momentous period 
 of his existence, which was signalised by the com- 
 pletion of his immortal work ; and though the action 
 of the drama embraces only a few hours, by skilfully 
 availing himself of retrospect and anticipation, Goethe 
 has presented us with a beautiful epitome of the poet's 
 Hfe. 
 
 Thus, in the third scene of the drama, Tasso alludes 
 to his early childhood, the sorrows of which he has so 
 pathetically sung : we accompany the youthful bard, in 
 his twenty-second year, to the brilliant court of Fer- 
 rara, where he arrived at a period when the nuptials 
 of the duke with the emperor's sister were celebrated 
 with unrivalled splendour. At the conclusion of these 
 festivities, he was presented by the JPrincess-Xiicretia 
 to her sister, Leo naraj who was destined to exert such 
 a powerful influence over his future life: we behold 
 him the honoured and cherished inmate of Belriguardo, 
 
 93
 
 94 INTRODUCTION 
 
 a magnificeut palace, surrounded by beautiful gardens, 
 where the Dukes of Ferrara were accustomed to retire 
 with their most favoured courtiers, and where, under 
 the inspiring influences of love, beauty, and court 
 favour, he completed his " Gerusalemme Liberata," one 
 of the proudest monuments of human genius. 
 
 Goethe has with great skill made us acquainted with 
 some of the circumstances, which, acting upon the 
 peculiar temperament of the poet, at length induced 
 the mental disorder which cast so dark a shadow over 
 his later years. His hopel£sa.-Ja5ZB-_fmLJLeonora no 
 doubt conspired with other causes to unsettle his fine 
 intellect, — a calamity which in him appears hke the 
 bewilderment of a mind suddenly awakened from the 
 visions of poetry and love passionately cherished for so 
 many years, into the cold realities of actual life, where 
 his too sensitive ear was stunned by the harsh and dis- 
 cordant voices of envy and superstition. We are thus 
 prepared for his distracted flight from Ferrara ; and 
 Goethe has introduced prospectively the touching inci- 
 dent related by Manso, — how, in the disguise of a 
 shepherd, he presented himself to his sister Cornelia, 
 to whom he related his story in language so pathetic, 
 that she fainted from the violence of her grief. 
 
 His return to Ferrara, his imprisonment in the Hos- 
 pital of Santa Anna, and his subsequent miserable 
 wanderings from city to city, are not mentioned in the 
 drama ; but the allusion of Alphonso to the crown 
 which should adorn him on the Capitol, brings to our 
 remembrance the affecting circumstances of his death. 
 
 It appears from his letters, that, at one period of his 
 life, he earnestly desired a triumph similar to that 
 which Petrarca had enjoyed ; but when at length this 
 honour was accorded him, when a period was assigned 
 for this splendid pageant, a change had come over his 
 spirit. His long sufferings had weaned his thoughts 
 from earth : he felt that the hand of death was upon
 
 INTRODUCTION 95 
 
 him, and hoped — to use his own words — " to go 
 crowned, not as a poet to the Capitol, but with gloiy 
 as a saint to heaven." On the eve of the day appointed 
 for the ceremony, he expired at the monastery of St. 
 Onofrio ; and his remains, habited in a magnificent 
 toga, and adorned with a laurel crown, were carried in 
 procession through the streets of Rome, 
 
 Goethe has faithfully portrayed the times in which 
 Tasso lived ; and circumstances apparently trivial have 
 an historical significance, and impart an air of reality 
 to the drama. Thus the fanciful occupation and pic- 
 turesque attire of the princess and countess at the open- 
 ing of the piece transport us at once to that graceful 
 court where the pastoral drama was invented and re- 
 fined, and where, not long before, Tasso's "Aminta," 
 which is considered one of the most beautiful spec- 
 imens of this species of composition, had been per- 
 formed for the first time with enthusiastic applause. 
 
 The crov/n adorning the bust of Ariosto, together 
 with the enthusiastic admiration expressed for that 
 poet by Antonio, is hkewise characteristic of the age. 
 The " Orlando Furioso " had been composed at the 
 same court about fifty years before, and had become so 
 universally popular, that, according to Bernardo Tasso, 
 the father of Torquato, " neither learned man nor 
 artisan, no youth, no maid, no old man could be satis- 
 fied with a single perusal : passengers in the streets, 
 sailors in their boats, and virgins in their chambers 
 sang for their disport the stanzas of Ariosto." ^ 
 
 The project of dethroning this monarch of Parnassus, 
 or, at least, of placing upon his own brow a crown as 
 glorious, appears from his own letters early to have 
 awakened the ambition of Tasso. 
 
 The subordinate characters of the drama are also 
 historical portraits. Alphonso II. is represented by 
 his biographers as the liberal patron of the arts, and as 
 1 Black's "Life of Tasso."
 
 96 INTRODUCTION 
 
 treating Tasso at this period with marked consider- 
 ation ; nor had he yet manifested that implacable and 
 revengeful spirit which has rendered his memory justly 
 hateful to posterity. In the relation which subsisted 
 between this prince and Tasso, Goethe has exhibited 
 the evils resulting from the false spirit of patronage 
 prevalent at that period throughout Italy, when talent 
 was regarded as the necessary appendage of rank, and 
 works of genius were considered as belonging rather to 
 the patron than to the individual by whom they had 
 been produced. 
 
 Antonio IV^mteeatino, the duke's secretary, is also 
 I drawn from life. He is an admirable personification 
 f of that spirit of worldly wisdom which looks prin- 
 ! cipally to material results and contemplates promotion 
 i^and court favour as the highest object of ambition. 
 ^This " earth-born prudence," having httle sympathy 
 with poetic genius, affects to treat it with contempt, 
 resents as presumptuous its violation of ordinary rules, 
 holds up its foibles and eccentricities to ridicule, and 
 at the same time envies the homage paid to it by man- 
 kind. 
 
 At the period of the drama, the court of Ferrara was 
 graced by the presence ofJLeonora, Countess of Scan- 
 diano, in whom Goethe h^'s portrayed a woman em- 
 inently graceful and accomplished, but who fails to 
 win -Qur sympathy because her ruhng sentiment is 
 ^vanijr^ Tasso paid to this young beauty the tribute of 
 public homage, and addressed to her some of his most 
 beautiful sonnets : according to Gingu^n^, however, his 
 sentiment for her was merely poetical, and could easily 
 ally itself with the more genuine, deep, and constant 
 affection which he entertained for Leonora of E§te . 
 
 Lucretia and Leonora of Este were tlie daughters of 
 Een^e of France, celebrated for her insatiable thirst for 
 knowledge, and for the variety and depth of her studies. 
 She became zealously attached to the tenets of the Ee-
 
 INTRODUCTION 97 
 
 formers, in consequence of which she was deprived of 
 her children and closely imprisoned for twelve years. 
 To the intellectual power, the knowledge, heresy, 
 and consequent misfortunes of her unhappy mother, 
 the Princess Leonora twice alludes in the course of the 
 drama. The daughters of this heroic woman inherited 
 her mental superiority ; and Leonora, the younger, is 
 celebrated by various writers for her genius, learning, 
 beauty, and early indifference to the pleasures of the 
 world.
 
 Dramatis Personas 
 
 Alphonso II., Duke of Ferrara. 
 Leonora D'Este, Sister to the Duke. " 
 Leonora Sanvitale, Countess of Scandiano. 
 
 TORQUATO TaSSO. 
 
 Antonio Montecatino, Secretary of State.
 
 Torquato Tasso 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A Garden adorned ivith busts of the Epic 
 Poets. To the right a bust of Kirgil ; to the left, 
 one of A riosto . Princess and Leonora, habited 
 as shepherdesses. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Smiling thou dost survey me, Leonora ; 
 And with a smile thou dost survey thyself. 
 What is it ? Let a friend partake thy thought ! 
 Thou seemest pensive, yet thou seemest pleased. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Yes, I am pleased, my princess, to behold 
 Us twain in rural fashion thus attired. 
 Two happy shepherd-maidens we appear. 
 And like the happy we are both employed. 
 Garlands we wreathe : this one, so gay with flowers, 
 Beneath my hand in varied beauty grows ; 
 Thou hast with higher taste and larger heart 
 The slender pHant laurel made thy choice. 
 
 99
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The laurel wreath, which aimlessly I twined, 
 Hath found at once a not unworthy head : 
 I place it gratefully on Virgil's brow. 
 
 (She crowns the bust of Virgil.) 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 With my full joyous wreath the lofty brow 
 Of Master Ludovico thus I crown — 
 
 (She crowns the bust of Ariosto.) 
 Let him whose sportive salhes never fade 
 Eeceive his tribute from the early spring. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 My brother is most kind, to bring us here 
 In this sweet season to our rural haunts : 
 Here, by the hour, in freedom unrestrained, 
 We may dream back the poet's golden age. 
 I love this Belriguardo : in my youth 
 Full many a joyous day I lingered here ; 
 And this bright sunshine, and this verdant green, 
 Bring back the feelings of that bygone time. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Yes : a new -world surrounds us ! Grateful now 
 The coohng shelter of these evergreens. 
 The tuneful murmur of this gurgling spring 
 Once more revives us. In the morning wind 
 The tender branches waver to and fro. 
 The flowers look upwards from their lowly beds. 
 And smile upon us with their childlike eyes. 
 Tlie gardener, fearless grown, removes the roof 
 That screened his citron and his orange trees ; 
 The azure dome of heaven above us rests ;
 
 TORQUATO TASSO i( 
 
 And, in the far horizon, from the hills 
 The snow in balmy vapour melts away. 
 
 PRINCESS, 
 
 Most welcome were to me the genial spring, 
 Did it not lead my friend away from me. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 My princess, in these sweet and tranquil hours, 
 Kemiud me not how soon I must depart. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Yon mighty city will restore to thee. 
 
 In double measure, what thou leavest here. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 The voice of duty and the voice of love 
 Both call me to my lord, forsaken long. 
 I bring to him his son, who rapidly 
 Hath grown in stature, and matured in mind. 
 Since last they met : I share his father's joy. 
 Florence is great and noble, but the worth 
 Of all her treasured riches doth not reach 
 The prouder jewels that Ferrara boasts. 
 That city to her people owes her power : 
 Ferrara grew to greatness through her princes. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 More through the noble men whom chance led here, 
 And who in sweet communion here remained. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Chance doth again disperse what chance collects: 
 A noble nature can alone attract
 
 I02 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The noble, and retain them, as ye do. 
 
 Around thy brother, and around thyself, 
 
 Assemble spirits worthy of you both ; 
 
 And ye are worthy of your noble sires. 
 
 Here the fair hght of science and free thought 
 
 Was kindled first, while o'er the darkened world 
 
 Still hung barbarian gloom. E'en when a child 
 
 The names resounded loudly in mine ear, 
 
 Of Hercules and Hippolyte of Este. 
 
 My father oft with Florence and with Eome 
 
 Extolled Ferrara ! Oft in youthful dream 
 
 Hither I fondly turned : now am I here. 
 
 Here was Petrarca kindly entertained, 
 
 And Ariosto found his models here. 
 
 Itaha boasts no great, no mighty name. 
 
 This princely mansion hath not called its guest. 
 
 In fostering genius we enrich ourselves : 
 
 Dost thou present her with a friendly gift, 
 
 One far more beautiful she leaves with thee. 
 
 The ground is hallowed where the good man treads 
 
 When centuries have rolled, his sons shall hear 
 
 The deathless echo of his words and deeds. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Yes, if those sons have feelings quick as thine : 
 This happiness full oft I envy thee. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Which purely and serenely thou, my friend, 
 
 As few beside thee, dost thyself enjoy. 
 
 When my full heart impels me to express 
 
 Promptly and freely what I keenly feel. 
 
 Thou feelest the while more deeply, and — art silent. 
 
 Delusive splendour doth not dazzle thee. 
 
 Nor wit beguile ; and flattery strives in vain
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 103 
 
 "With fawning artifice to win thine ear : 
 Firm is thy temper, and correct thy taste, 
 Thy judgment just ; and, truly great thyself, 
 With greatness thou dost ever sympathise. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Thou shouldst not to this highest flattery 
 The garment of confiding friendship lend. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Friendship is just : she only estimates 
 The full extent and measure of thy worth. 
 Let me ascribe to opportunity. 
 To fortune too, her portion in thy culture, 
 Still in the end thou hast it, it is thine ; 
 And all extol thy sister and thyself 
 Before the noblest women of the age. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 That can but little move me, Leonora, 
 
 When I reflect how poor at best we are. 
 
 To others more indebted than ourselves. 
 
 My knowledge of the ancient languages, 
 
 And of the treasures by the past bequeathed, 
 
 I owe my mother, who, in varied lore 
 
 And mental power, her daughters far excelled. 
 
 Might either claim comparison with her, 
 
 'Tis undeniably Lucretia's right. 
 
 Besides, what nature and what chance bestowed 
 
 As property or rank I ne'er esteemed. 
 
 'Tis pleasure to me when the wise converse, 
 
 That I their scope and meaning comprehend, 
 
 Whether they judge a man of bygone times 
 
 And weigh his actions, or of science treat. 
 
 Which, when extended and applied to hfe.
 
 I04 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 At once exalts and benefits mankind. 
 
 Where'er the converse of such men may lead, 
 
 I follow gladly, for with ease I follow. 
 
 Well pleased the strife of argument I hear, 
 
 When, round the powers that sway the human breast,. 
 
 Waking alternately delight and fear. 
 
 With grace the lip of eloquence doth play ; 
 
 And listen gladly when the princely thirst 
 
 Of fame, of wide dominion, forms the theme, 
 
 When of an able man, the thought profound. 
 
 Developed skilfully with subtle tact. 
 
 Doth not perplex and dazzle, but instruct. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 And then, this grave and serious converse o'er. 
 Our ear and inner mind with tranquil Joy 
 Upon the poet's tuneful verse repose, 
 Who, through the medium of harmonious sounds. 
 Infuses sweet emotions in the soul. 
 Thy lofty spirit grasps a wide domain : 
 Content am I to linger in the isle 
 Of poesy, her laurel groves among. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 In this fair land, I'm told, the myrtle blooms 
 In richer beauty than all other trees : 
 Here, too, the Muses wander ; yet we seek 
 A friend and playmate 'mong their tuneful choir 
 Less often than we seek to meet the bard. 
 Who seems to shun us, — nay, appears to flee 
 In quest of something that we know not of. 
 And which, perchance, is to himself unknown. 
 How charming were it, if, in happy hour 
 Encountering us, he should with ecstasy 
 In our fair selves the treasure recognise. 
 Which in the world he long had sought in vain !
 
 ^^-> 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 105 
 
 LEONORA. '-- 
 
 To your light raillery I must submit : 
 
 So light its touch it passeth harmless by. 
 
 I honour all men after their desert, ^^ 
 
 And am in truth toward Tasso only just. (y^"^^ 
 
 His eye scarce lingers on this earthly scene 
 
 To nature's harmony his ear is tuned. %->/ 
 
 What history offers, and what life presents, 
 
 His bosom promptly and with joy receives: 
 
 The widely scattered is by him combined, 
 
 And his quick feeling animates the dead. 
 
 Oft he ennobles what we count for nought : 
 
 What others treasure is by him despised. 
 
 Thus moving in his own enchanted sphere. 
 
 The wondrous man doth still allure us on 
 
 To wander with him and partake his joy : 
 
 Though seeming to approach us, he remains 
 
 Eemote as ever ; and perchance his eye, 
 
 Eesting on us, sees spirits in our place. 
 
 PRINCESS. S^^-* 
 
 Thou hast with taste and truth portrayed the bard. 
 
 Who hovers in the shadowy realm of dreams. 
 
 And yet reahty, it seems to me, 
 
 Hath also power to lure him and enchain. 
 
 In the sweet sonnets, scattered here and there. 
 
 With which we sometimes find our trees adorned. 
 
 Creating hke the golden fruit of old 
 
 A new Hesperia, perceivest thou not 
 
 The gentle tokens of a genuine love ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 In these fair leaves I also take delight. 
 With all his rich diversity of thought 
 He glorifies one form in all his strains. 
 Now he exalts her to the starry heavens -
 
 io6 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 In radiant glory, and before that form 
 Bows down, like angels in the realms above. 
 Then, stealing after her through silent fields. 
 He garlands in his wreath each beauteous flower ; 
 And, should the form he worships disappear, 
 Hallows the path her gentle foot hath trod. 
 Thus like the nightingale, concealed in shade. 
 From his love-laden breast he fills the air 
 And neighbouring thickets with melodious plaints 
 His blissful sadness and his tuneful grief 
 Charm every ear, enrapture every heart — 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 And Leonora is the favoured name 
 Selected for the object of his strains. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thy name it is, my princess, as 'tis mine. 
 It would displease me were it otherwise. 
 Now I rejoice that under this disguise 
 He can conceal his sentiment for thee, 
 And am no less contented with the thought 
 That this sweet name should also picture me. 
 Here is no question of an ardent love, 
 Seeking possession, and with jealous care 
 Screening its object from another's gaze. 
 While he enraptured contemplates thy worth, 
 He in my lighter nature may rejoice. 
 He loves not us, — forgive me what I say, — 
 His loved ideal from the spheres he brings, 
 And doth invest it with the name we bear : 
 His feeling we participate ; we seem 
 To love the man, yet only love in him 
 The highest object that can claim our love.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 107 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 In this deep science thou art deeply versed, 
 My Leonora ; and thy words in truth 
 Play on my ear, yet scarcely reach my soul. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou Plato's pupil ! and not comprehend 
 What a mere novice dares to prattle to thee ? 
 It must be, then, that I have widely erred ; 
 Yet well I know I do not wholly err. 
 For love doth in this graceful school appear 
 No longer as the spoilt and wayward child : 
 He is the youth whom Psyche hath espoused, 
 Who sits in council with the assembled gods. 
 He hath relinquished passion's fickle sway : 
 He clings no longer with delusion sweet 
 To outward form and beauty, to atone 
 For brief excitement by disgust and hate. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 Here comes my brother ! let us not betray 
 Whither our converse hath conducted us ; 
 Else we shall have his raillery to bear, 
 As in our dress he found a theme for jest. 
 
 Scene II. — Princess, Leonora, Alphonso. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Tasso I seek, whom nowhere I can find ; 
 And even here, with you, I meet him not. 
 Can you inform me where he hides himself ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I have scarce seen him for the last two days.
 
 io8 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 / 
 
 'Tis his habitual failing that he seeks 
 Seclusion rather than society. 
 I can forgive him when the motley crowd 
 Thus studiously he shuns, and loves to hold 
 Free converse with himself in sohtude ; 
 Yet can I not approve, that he should thus 
 Also the circle of his friends avoid. 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 If I mistake not, thou wilt soon, O prince ! 
 
 Convert this censure into joyful praise. 
 
 To-day I saw him from afar : he held 
 
 A book and scroll, in which at times he wrote. 
 
 And then resumed his walk, then wrote again.^ 
 
 A passing word, which yesterday he spoke. 
 
 Seemed to announce to me his work complete : 
 
 His sole anxiety is now to add 
 
 A finivshed beauty to minuter parts, 
 
 That to your Grace, to whom he owes so much, 
 
 A worthy offering he at length may bring. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 A welcome, when he brings it, shall be his, 
 And long immunity from all restraint. 
 •Great, in proportion to the lively joy 
 And interest which his noble work inspires. 
 Is my impatience at its long delay. 
 After each slow advance he leaves his task : 
 He ever changeth, and can ne'er conclude, 
 Till baffled hope is weary ; for we see 
 Eeluctantly postponed to times remote 
 A pleasure we had fondly deemed so near.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 109 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I rather praise the modesty, the care, 
 
 "With which thus, step by step, he nears the goal. 
 
 His aim is not to string amusing tales, 
 
 Or weave harmonious numbers, which at length, 
 
 Like words delusive, die upon the ear. 
 
 His numerous rhymes he labours to combine 
 
 Into one beautiful, poetic whole ; 
 
 And he whose soul this lofty aim inspires, 
 
 Must pay devoted homage to the Muse. 
 
 Disturb him not, my brother : time alone 
 
 Is not the measure of a noble work ; 
 
 And, is the coming age to share our joy, 
 
 We of the present must forget ourselves. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Let us, dear sister, work together here, 
 As for our mutual good we oft have done. 
 Am I too eager — thou must then restrain ; 
 Art thou too gentle — I will urge him on. 
 Then we perchance shall see him at the goal. 
 Where to behold him we have wished in vain. 
 His fatherland, the world, shall then admire 
 And view with wonder his completed work. 
 I shall receive my portion of the fame. 
 And Tasso will be ushered into hfe. 
 In a contracted sphere, a noble man 
 Cannot develop all his mental powers. 
 On him his country and the world must work. 
 He must endure both censure and applause. 
 Must be compelled to estimate aright 
 Himi^elf and others. Sohtude no more 
 Lulls him delusively with flattering dreams. 
 Opponents will not, friendship dare not, spare : 
 Then in the strife the youth puts forth his powers, 
 Knows what he is, and feels himself a man.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 Thus will he, prince, owe everything to thee, 
 Who hast already done so much for him. 
 Talents are nurtured best in solitude, — 
 A character on life's tempestuous sea. 
 Oh that according to thy rules he would 
 Model his temper as he forms his taste, 
 Cease to avoid mankind, nor in his breast 
 Nurture suspicion into fear and hate ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 He only fears mankind who knows them not, 
 
 And he will soon misjudge them who avoids. 
 
 This is his case, and so by slow degrees 
 
 His noble mind is trammelled and perplexed. 
 
 Thus to secure my favour he betrays, 
 
 At times, unseemly ardour ; against some. 
 
 Who, I am well assured, are not his foes, 
 
 He cherishes suspicion ; if by chance 
 
 A letter go astray, a hireling leave 
 
 His service, or a paper be mislaid. 
 
 He sees deception, treachery, and fraud, 
 
 Working insidiously to sap his peace. 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 Let us, beloved brother, not forget 
 That his own nature none can lay aside. 
 And should a friend, who with us journey eth, 
 Injure by chance his foot, we would in sooth 
 Kather relax our speed, and lend our hand 
 Gently to aid the sufferer on his way. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Better it were to remedy his pain. 
 With the physician's aid attempt a cure.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO iii 
 
 Then with our healed and renovated friend 
 A new career of life with joy pursue. 
 And yet, dear friends, I hope that I may ne'er 
 The censure of the cruel leech incur. 
 I do my utmost to impress his mind 
 With feelings of security and trust. 
 Oft purposely, in presence of the crowd. 
 With marks of favour I distinguish him. 
 Should he complain of aught, I sift it well, 
 As lately when his chamber he supposed 
 Had been invaded ; then, should nought appear, 
 I calmly show him how I view the affair. 
 And, as we ought to practise every grace 
 With Tasso, seeing he deserves it well, 
 I practise patience : you, I'm sure, will aid. 
 I now have brought you to your rural haunts, 
 And must myself at eve return to town. 
 For a few moments you will see Antonio : 
 He calls hete for me on his way from Rome. 
 We have important business to discuss, 
 Eesolves to frame, and letters to indite. 
 All which compels me to return to town. 
 
 PRIISrCESS. 
 
 Wilt thou permit that we return with thee ? 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Nay : rather hnger here in Belriguardo, 
 
 Or go together to Consandoli ; 
 
 Enjoy these lovely days as fancy prompts. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 Thou canst not stay with us ? Not here arrange 
 All these affairs as well as in the town ?
 
 112 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 So soon, thou takest hence Antonio, too. 
 Who hath so much to tell us touching Rome. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 It may not be, ye children : but with him 
 
 So soon as possible will I return ; 
 
 Then shall he tell you all ye wish to hear, 
 
 And ye shall help me to reward the man, 
 
 Wlio, in my cause, hath laboured with such zeal. 
 
 And, when we shall once more have talked our fill, 
 
 Hither the crowd may come, that mirth and joy 
 
 May in our gardens revel, that for me, 
 
 As is but meet, some fair one in the shade 
 
 May, if I seek her, gladly meet me there. 
 
 LEONORA. , 
 
 And we meanwhile will kindly shut our eyes. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Ye know that I can be forbearing too. 
 
 PRINCESS {turned toward the scene). 
 
 I long have noticed Tasso ; hitherward 
 Slowly he bends his footsteps ; suddenly, 
 As if irresolute, he standeth still ; 
 Anon, with greater speed he draweth near, 
 Then lingers once again. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Disturb him not. 
 Nor, when the poet dreams and versifies. 
 Intrude upon his musings : let him roam.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 113 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 No : he has seen us, and he comes this way. 
 
 Scene III. — Peincess, Leonora, Alphonso, Tasso 
 {with a volume hound in jparchment). 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Slowly I come to bring my work to thee, 
 And yet I linger ere presenting it. 
 Although apparently it seems complete, 
 Too well I know, it is unfinished still. 
 But, if I cherished once an anxious fear 
 Lest I should bring thee an imperfect work, 
 A new solicitude constrains me now : 
 I would not seem ungrateful, nor appear 
 Unduly anxious ; and as to his friends, 
 A man can say but simply, " Here I am ! " 
 That they, with kind forbearance, may rejoice, 
 So I can only say, " Eeceive my work ! " 
 
 {He presents the volume) 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thou hast surprised me, Tasso, with thy gift, 
 
 And made this lovely day a festival. 
 
 I hold it, then, at length within my hands. 
 
 And in a certain sense can call it mine. 
 
 Long have I wished that thou couldst thus resolve, 
 
 And say at length, " 'Tis finished ! here it is." 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Are you contented ? then it is complete. 
 For it belongs to you in every sense. 
 Were I to contemplate the pains bestowed. 
 Or dwell upon the written character.
 
 114 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 I might, perchance, exclaim, " This work is mine ! " 
 
 But when I mark what 'tis that to my song 
 
 Its inner worth and dignity imparts, 
 
 I humbly feel I owe it all to you. 
 
 If Nature from her Hberal stores on me 
 
 The genial gift of poesy bestowed. 
 
 Capricious Fortune, with malignant power. 
 
 Had thrust me from her ; though this beauteous world 
 
 "With all its varied splendour lured the boy, 
 
 Too early was his youthful eye bedimmed 
 
 By his loved parents' undeserved distress. 
 
 Forth from my lips, when I essayed to sing, 
 
 There ever flowed a melancholy song ; 
 
 And I accompanied, with plaintive tones. 
 
 My father's sorrow and my mother's grief. 
 
 *Twas thou alone, who, from this narrow sphere, 
 
 Raised me to glorious liberty, reheved 
 
 From each depressing care my youthful mind. 
 
 And gave me freedom, in whose genial air 
 
 My spirit could unfold in harmony : 
 
 Then, whatsoe'er the merit of the work, 
 
 Thine be the praise, for it belongs to thee. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 A second time thou dost deserve applause. 
 And honourest modestly thyself and us. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Fain would I say how sensibly I feel 
 That what I bring is all derived from thee ! 
 The inexperienced youth — could he produce 
 The poem from his own unfurnished mind ? 
 Could he invent the couduct of the war, 
 The gallant bearing and the martial skill 
 Which every hero on the field displayed,
 
 : is mmel" 
 imparts, 
 
 '-■ on me 
 
 or, 
 'iiuteous world 
 
 who, from this narrow sphere, 
 
 from thee ! 
 J Id he produce 
 imfumished mind ? 
 
 ' This single mtifhtf''is M^l^fi>f mc ' 
 
 Photogravure from the painting by F. Barth
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 115 
 
 The leader's prudence, and his followers' zeal, 
 
 How vigilance the arts of cunning foiled, 
 
 Hadst thou not, valiant prince, infused it all, y^ 
 
 As if my guardian genius thou hadst been, v^" ^ ' 
 
 Through a mere mortal deigning to reveal V'Sj^ 
 
 His nature high and inaccessible ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Enjoy the work in which we all rejoice ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Enjoy the approbation of the good ! 
 
 LEONOEA. 
 
 Eejoice, too, in thy universal fame ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 This single moment is enough for me. 
 
 Of you alone I thought while t composed : 
 
 You to delight was still my highest wish, 
 
 You to enrapture was my final aim. 
 
 Who doth not in his friends behold the world, 
 
 Deserves not that of him the world should hear. 
 
 Here is my fatherland, and here the sphere 
 
 In which my spirit fondly loves to dwell ; 
 
 Here I attend and value every hint ; 
 
 Here speak experience, knowledge, and true taste ; 
 
 Here stand the present and the future age. 
 
 With shy reserve the artist shuns the crowd : 
 
 Its judgment but perplexes. Those alone 
 
 With minds Hke yours can understand and feel. 
 
 And such alone should censure and reward ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 If thus the present and the future age 
 We represent, it is not meet that we
 
 ii6 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Receive the poet's song unrecompensed. 
 The laurel wreath, fit chaplet for the bard, 
 Which e'en the hero, who requires his verse, 
 Sees without envy round his temples twined. 
 Adorns, thou seest, thy predecessor's brow. 
 
 {Pointing to the bust of Virgil.) 
 Hath chance, hath some kind genius, twined the wreath, 
 And brought it hither ? Not in vain it thus 
 Presents itself : Virgil I hear exclaim, 
 " Wherefore confer this honour on the dead ? 
 They in their hfetime had reward and joy : 
 Do ye indeed revere the bards of old ? 
 Then, to the Hving bard accord his due. 
 My marble statue hath been amply crowned. 
 And the green laurel branch belongs to life." 
 
 (Alphonso makes a sign to his sister ; she takes 
 the crown from the bust of Virgil, and ap- 
 proaches Tasso \ he steps hack.) 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 Thou dost refuse ? Seest thou what hand the wreath, 
 The fair, the never-fading wreath, presents ? 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, let me pause ! I scarce can comprehend 
 How after such an hour I still can live. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Live in enjoyment of the high reward 
 
 From which thy inexperience shrinks with fear. 
 
 PRINCESS {raising the crown). 
 
 Thou dost afford me, Tasso, the rare joy 
 Of giving silent utterance to my thought.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO n? 
 
 TASSO. ^^ 
 
 The beauteous burden from thy honoured hands, &\ O" 
 
 On my weak head, thus kneeling I receive. ^>^ 
 
 (He kneels down: the Pkincess places the crown 
 upon his head.) 
 
 LEONOKA {applauding). 
 
 Long hve the poet, for the first time crowned ! 
 How well the crown adorns the modest man ! . 
 
 (Tasso rises.) 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 It is an emblem only of that crown 
 Which shall adorn thee on the CapitoL 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 There louder voices will salute thine ear : 
 Friendship with lower tones rewards thee here. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Take it, oh, take it quickly, from my brow ! 
 Pray thee remove it ! It doth scorch my locks : 
 And like a sunbeam, that with fervid heat 
 "Falls on my forehead, burneth in my brain 
 The power of thought ; while fever's fiery glow 
 Impels my blood. Forgive ! it is too much. 
 
 . LEONORA. 
 
 This garland rather doth protect the head 
 
 Of him who treads the burning realm of fame, 
 
 And with its grateful shelter cools his brow.
 
 ii8 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I am not worthy to receive its shade, 
 
 Which only round the hero's brow should wave. 
 
 Ye gods, exalt it high among the clouds, 
 
 To float in glory inaccessible, 
 
 That through eternity my life may be 
 
 An endless striving to attain this goal ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 He who in youth acquires life's noblest gifts, 
 Learns early to esteem their priceless worth ; 
 He who in youth enjoys, resigneth not 
 Without reluctance what he once possessed ; 
 And he who would possess, must still be armed. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And who would arm himself, within his breast 
 
 A power must feel that ne'er forsaketh him. 
 
 Ah, it forsakes me now ! In happiness 
 
 The inborn power subsides, which tutored me 
 
 To meet injustice with becoming pride, 
 
 And steadfastly to face adversity. 
 
 Hath the delight, the rapture, of this hour. 
 
 Dissolved the strength and marrow in my limbs ? 
 
 My knees sink feebly ! yet a second time 
 
 Thou seest me, princess, here before thee bowed: 
 
 Grant my petition, and remove the crown. 
 
 That, as awakened from a blissful dream, 
 
 A new and fresh existence I may feel. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 If thou with quiet modesty canst wear 
 The glorious talen t from the gods received,
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 119 
 
 Learn also now the laurel wreath to wear, 
 The fairest gift that friendship can bestow. 
 The brow it once hath worthily adorned, 
 It shall encircle through eternity. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, let me, then, ashamed from hence retire ! 
 
 Let me in deepest shades my joy conceal, 
 
 As there my sorrow I was wont to shroud. 
 
 There will I range alone : no eye will there 
 
 Eemind me of a bliss so undeserved. 
 
 And if perchance I should behold a youth 
 
 In the clear mirror of a crystal spring, 
 
 Who in the imaged heaven, 'midst rocks and trees. 
 
 Absorbed in thought appears, his brow adorned 
 
 With glory's garland, — there, methinks, I see 
 
 Elysium mirrored in the magic flood. 
 
 I pause and calmly ask. Who may this be ? 
 
 What youth of bygone times so fairly crowned ? 
 
 Whence can I learn his name ? his high desert ? 
 
 I linger long, and musing fondly think : 
 
 Oh, might there come another, and yet more. 
 
 To join with him in friendly intercourse ! 
 
 Oh, could I see assembled round this spring 
 
 The bards, the heroes, of the olden time ! 
 
 Could I behold them still united here 
 
 As they in life were ever firmly bound ! 
 
 As with mysterious power the magnet binds 
 
 Iron with iron, so do kindred aims 
 
 Unite the souls of heroes and of bards. 
 
 Himself forgetting, Homer spent his life 
 
 In contemplation of two mighty men ; 
 
 And Alexander in the Elysium fields 
 
 Doth Homer and Achilles haste to seek. 
 
 Oh, would that I were present to behold 
 
 Those mighty spirits in communion met,
 
 120 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Awake ! awake ! let us not feel that thou 
 The present quite forgettest in the past. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 It is the present that inspireth me : 
 Absent I seem alone, I am entranced ! 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 When thou dost speak with spirits, I rejoice 
 The voice is human, and I gladly hear. 
 
 (A page steps to the Peince.) 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 He is arrived ! and in a happy hour : 
 
 Antonio ! Bring him hither, — here he comes ! 
 
 Scene IV. — Princess, Leonora, Alphonso, Tasso, 
 Antonio. 
 
 alphonso. 
 
 Thou'rt doubly welcome ! thou who bringest at once 
 Thyself and welcome tidings. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Welcome here ! 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Scarce dare I venture to express the joy 
 Which in your presence quickens me anew. 
 In your society I find restored 
 What I have missed so long. You seem content 
 With what I have accomplished, what achieved ;
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 So am I recompensed for every care, 
 
 For many days impatiently endured, 
 
 And many others wasted purposely. 
 
 At length our wish is gained, — the strife is o'er. 
 
 LEON OKA. 
 
 I also greet thee, though in sooth displeased : 
 Thou dost arrive when I must hence depart. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 As if to mar my perfect happiness. 
 
 One lovely part forthwith thou takest hence. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 My greetings too ! I also shall rejoice 
 
 In converse with the much-experienced man. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou'lt find me true, whenever thou wilt deign 
 To glance awhile from thy world into mine. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Though thou by letter hast announced to me 
 The progress and the issue of our cause, 
 Full many questions I have yet to ask 
 Touching the course thou hast pursued therein. 
 In that strange region a well-measured step 
 Alone conducts us to our destined goal. 
 Who doth his sovereign's interest purely seek, 
 In Eome a hard position must maintain ; 
 For Eome gives nothing, while she grasps at all ; 
 Let him who thither goes some boon to claim. 
 Go well provided, and esteem himself 
 Most happy, if e'en then he gaineth aught.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 'Tis neither my demeanour nor my art 
 By which thy will hath been accomplished, prince. 
 For where the skill which at the Vatican 
 Would not be overmastered ? Much conspired 
 Which I could use in furtherance of our cause. 
 Pope Gregory salutes and blesses thee. 
 That aged man, that sovereign most august, 
 Who on his brow the load of empire bears, 
 Eecalls the time when he embraced thee last 
 With pleasure. He who can distinguish men 
 Knows and extols thee highly. For thy sake 
 He hath done much. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 So far as 'tis sincere, 
 His good opinion cannot but rejoice me. 
 But well thou knowest, from the Vatican 
 The Pope sees empires dwindled at his feet; 
 Princes and men must needs seem small indeed. 
 Confess what was it most assisted thee. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Good ! if thou will'st : the Pope's exalted mind. 
 
 To him the small seems small, the great seems great. 
 
 That he may wield the empire of the world. 
 
 He to his neighbour yields with kind good will. 
 
 The strip of land, which he resigns to thee. 
 
 He knoweth, like thy friendship, well to prize. 
 
 Italia must be tranquil, friends alone 
 
 Will he behold around him, peace must reign 
 
 Upon his borders, that of Christendom 
 
 The might, which he so potently directs. 
 
 May smite at once the Heretic and Turk.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 123 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 And is it known what men he most esteems, 
 And who approach him confidentially ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 The experienced man alone can win his ear, 
 
 The active man his favour and esteem. 
 
 He, who from early youth has served the state, 
 
 Commands it now, ruling those very courts 
 
 Which, in his office of ambassador. 
 
 He had observed and guided years before. 
 
 The world lies spread before his searching gaze, 
 
 Clear as the interests of his own domain. 
 
 In action we must yield him our applause. 
 
 And mark with joy, when time unfolds the plans 
 
 Which his deep forethought fashioned long before. 
 
 There is no fairer prospect in the world 
 
 Than to behold a prince who wisely rules ; 
 
 A realm where every one obeys with pride, 
 
 Where each imagines that he serves himself, 
 
 Because 'tis justice only that commands. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 How ardently I long to view that realm ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Doubtless that thou mayst play thy part therein, 
 For Leonora never could remain 
 A mere spectator : meet it were, fair friend. 
 If now and then we let your gentle hands 
 Join in the mighty game — say, is't not so ? 
 
 LEONORA {to ALPHONSO). 
 
 Thou wouldst provoke me, — thou shalt not succeed.
 
 124 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 I am already deeply in thy debt. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Good : then to-day I will remain in thine ! 
 Forgive, and do not interrupt me now. 
 
 {To Antonio.) 
 Say, hath he for his relatives done much ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Nor more nor less than equity allows. 
 The potentate who doth neglect his friends 
 Is even by the people justly blamed. 
 With wise discretion Gregory employs 
 His friends as trusty servants of the state, 
 And thus fulfils at once two kindred claims. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Doth science, do the hberal arts, enjoy 
 His fostering care ? and doth he emulate 
 The glorious princes of the olden time ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 He honours science when it is of use, — 
 Teaching to govern states, to know mankind : 
 He prizes art when it embelhshes, — 
 When it exalts and beautifies his Eome, 
 Erecting palaces and temples there, 
 Which rank among the marvels of this earth. 
 Within his sphere of influence he admits 
 Nought inefficient, and alone esteems 
 The active cause and instrument of good.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 125 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thou thinkest, then, that we may soon conclude 
 The whole affair ? that no impediments 
 Will finally be scattered in our way ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Unless I greatly err, 'twill but require 
 A few brief letters and thy signature, 
 To bring this contest to a final close. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 This day with justice, then, I may proclaim 
 
 A season of prosperity and joy. 
 
 My frontiers are enlarged and made secure : -V*./^ 
 
 Thou hast accomplished all without the sword, j^ 
 
 And hence deservest well a civic crown. l^^^"^ 
 
 Our ladies on some beauteous morn shall twine 
 
 A wreath of oak to bind around thy brow. 
 
 Meanwhile our poet hath enriched us too : 
 
 He, by his conquest of Jerusalem, 
 
 Hath put our modern Christendom to shame. 
 
 With joyous spirit and unwearied zeal, 
 
 A high and distant goal he had attained ; 
 
 For his achievement thou beholdest him crowned. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou solvest an enigma. Two crowned heads 
 I saw with wonder on arriving here. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 While thou dost gaze upon my happiness, 
 
 With the same glance, oh, couldst thou view my heart. 
 
 And witness there my deep humility !
 
 126 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 How lavishly Alphonso can reward 
 
 I long have known : thou only provest now 
 
 What all enjoy who come within its sphere. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 When thou shalt see the work he hath achieved. 
 
 Thou wilt esteem us moderate and just. 
 
 The first, the silent, witnesses are we 
 
 Of praises which the world and future years 
 
 In tenfold measure will accord to him. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Through you his fame is certain. Who so bold 
 To entertain a doubt when you commend ? 
 But teU me, who on Ariosto's brow 
 Hath placed this wreath ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 This hand. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 It hath done welL 
 It more becomes him than a laurel crown. 
 As o'er her fruitful bosom Nature throws 
 Her variegated robe of beauteous green, 
 So he enshrouds in Fable's flowery garb 
 Whatever can conspire to render man 
 Worthy of love and honour. Power and taste, 
 Experience, understanding, and content, 
 And a pure feeling for the good and true, 
 Pervade the spirit of his every song. 
 And there appear in person, to repose 
 'Neath blossoming trees, besprinkled by the snow 
 Of lightly falling flowers, their heads entwined
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 127 
 
 With rosy garlands ; while the sportive Loves 
 
 With frolic humour weave their magic spells. 
 
 A copious fountain, gurgling near, displays 
 
 Strange variegated fish ; and all the air 
 
 Is vocal with the song of wondrous birds ; 
 
 Strange cattle pasture in the bowers and glades ; 
 
 Half hid in verdure, Folly slyly lurks ; 
 
 At times, resounding from a golden cloud, 
 
 The voice of Wisdom utters lofty truth ; 
 
 While Madness, from a wild, harmonious lute, 
 
 Scatters forth bursts of fitful harmouy. 
 
 Yet all the while the justest measure holds. 
 
 He who aspires to emulate this man, 
 
 E'en for his boldness well deserves a crown. 
 
 Forgive me if I feel myself inspired. 
 
 Like one entranced forget both time and place, 
 
 And fail to weigh my words ; for all these crowns. 
 
 These poets, and the festival attire 
 
 Of these fair ladies, have transported me 
 
 Out of myself into a foreign land. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Who thus can prize one species of desert^ 
 Will not misjudge another. Thou to us, 
 Some future day, shalt show in Tasso's song 
 What we can feel, and thou canst comprehend. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Come, now, Antonio ! many things remain 
 Whereof I am desirous to inquire. 
 Then, till the setting of the sun, thou shalt 
 Attend the ladies. Follow me, — farewell ! 
 
 (Antonio follows the prince. Tasso the ladies)
 
 128 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Boom. Princess, Tasso. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I WITH uncertain footsteps follow thee, 
 O princess':' there arise within my soul 
 Thoughts without rule and measure. Solitude 
 Appears to beckon me : complaisantly 
 She whispers, " Hither come, I wiU allay. 
 Within thy breast, the newly wakened doubt." 
 Yet catch I but a ghmpse of thee, or takes 
 My listening ear one utterance from thy lip. 
 At once a new-born day around me shines, 
 And all the fetters vanish from my soul. 
 To thee I freely will confess, the man 
 Who unexpectedly appeared among us 
 Hath rudely waked me from a beauteous dream : 
 So strangely have his nature and his words 
 Affected me, that more than ever now 
 A want of inward harmony I feel, 
 And a distracting conflict with myself. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Tis not to be expected that a friend, 
 Who long hath sojourned in a foreign land, 
 Should, in the moment of his first return. 
 The tone of former times at once resume : 
 He in his inner mind is still unchanged ; 
 And a few days of intercourse will tune 
 The jarring strings, until they blend once more 
 In perfect harmony. When he shall know 
 The greatness of the work thou hast achieved. 
 Believe me, he will place thee by the bard, 
 Whom as a giant now he sets before thee.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 129 
 
 TASSO. "^ 
 
 My princess, Ariosto's praise from him 
 
 Has more delighted than offended me. 
 
 Consoling 'tis, to know the man renowned, 
 
 Whom as our model we have placed before us : 
 
 An inward voice then whispers to the heart, 
 
 " Canst thou obtain a portion of his worth, 
 
 A portion of his fame is also thine." 
 
 No : that which hath most deeply moved my heart, 
 
 Which even now completely fills my soul. 
 
 Was the majestic picture of that world, 
 
 Which, with its hving, restless, mighty forms, 
 
 Around one great and prudent man revolves, 
 
 And runs with measured steps the destined course 
 
 Prescribed beforehand by the demigod. 
 
 I listened eagerly, and heard with joy 
 
 The wise discourse of the experienced man ; 
 
 But, ah ! the more I heard, the more I felt 
 
 Mine own unworthiness, and feared that I, 
 
 Like empty sound, might dissipate in air. 
 
 Or vanish like an echo or a dream. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 And yet erewhile thou didst so truly feel 
 
 How bard and hero for each other Hve, 
 
 How bard and hero to each other tend, 
 
 And toward each other know no envious thought. 
 
 Noble in truth are deeds deserving fame ; 
 
 But it is also noble to transmit 
 
 The lofty grandeur of heroic deeds. 
 
 Through worthy song, to our posterity. 
 
 Be satisfied to contemplate in peace. 
 
 From a small, sheltering state, as from the shore, 
 
 The wild and stormy current of the world.
 
 I30 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Was it not here, amazed, I first beheld 
 
 The high reward on valiant deeds bestowed ? 
 
 An inexperienced youth I here arrived, 
 
 When festival on festival conspired 
 
 To render this the centre of renown. 
 
 Oh, what a scene Ferrara then displayed ! 
 
 The wide arena, where in all its pomp 
 
 Accomplished valour should its skill display, 
 
 Was bounded by a circle, whose high worth 
 
 The sun might seek to parallel in vain. 
 
 The fairest women sat assembled there. 
 
 And men the most distinguished of the age. 
 
 Amazed the eye ran o'er the noble throng : 
 
 Proudly I cried, " And 'tis our fatherland. 
 
 That small, sea-girded land, hath sent them here. 
 
 They constitute the noblest court that e'er 
 
 On honour, worth, or virtue, judgment passed. 
 
 Survey them singly, thou wilt not find one 
 
 Of whom his neighbour needs to feel ashamed ! " — 
 
 And then the hsts were opened, chargers pranced, 
 
 Esquires pressed forward, helmets brightly gleamed. 
 
 The trumpet sounded, shivering lances split. 
 
 The din of clanging helm and shield was heard, 
 
 And for a moment eddying dust concealed 
 
 The victor's honour and the vanquished's shame. 
 
 Oh, let me draw a curtain o'er the scene, 
 
 The all too brilliant spectacle conceal. 
 
 That in this tranquil hour I may not feel 
 
 Too painfully mine own unworthiness ! 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 If that bright circle and those noble deeds 
 Aroused thee then to enterprise and toil, 
 I could the while, young friend, have tutored thee 
 In the still lesson of calm sufferance.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 131 
 
 The brilliant festival thou dost extol, 
 Which then and since a hundred voices praised 
 I did not witness. In a lonely spot, 
 So tranquil, that, unbroken on the ear, 
 Joy's lightest echo faintly died away, 
 A prey to pain and melancholy thoughts, 
 I was compelled to pass the tedious hours. 
 Before me hovered, on extended wing, 
 Death's awful form, concealing from my view 
 The prospect of this ever-changing world. 
 Slowly it disappeared : and I beheld, 
 As through a veil, the varied hues of life. 
 Pleasing but indistinct ; while living forms 
 Began once more to flicker through the gloom. 
 Still feeble, and supported by my women, 
 For the first time my silent room I left, 
 When hither, full of happiness and life. 
 Thee leading by the hand, Lucretia came. 
 A stranger then, thou, Tasso, wast the first 
 To welcome me on my return to hfe. 
 Much then I hoped for both of us ; and hope 
 Hath not, methinks, deceived us hitherto. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Stunned by the tumult, dazzled by the glare, 
 Impetuous passions stirring in my breast, 
 I by thy sister's side pursued my way 
 In silence through the stately corridors, 
 Then in the chamber entered, where ere long 
 Thou didst appear supported by thy women. 
 Oh, what a moment ! Princess, pardon me ! 
 As in the presence of a deity 
 The victim of enchantment feels with joy 
 His frenzied spirit from delusion freed ; 
 So was my soul from every fantasy, 
 From every passion, every false desire
 
 132 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Restored at once by one calm glance of thine, 
 
 And if, before, my inexperienced mind 
 
 Had lost itself in infinite desires, 
 
 I then, with shame, first turned my gaze within. 
 
 And recognised the truly valuable. 
 
 Thus on the wide seashore we seek in vain 
 
 The pearl, reposing in its silent shell. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 'Twas the commencement of a happy time. 
 
 And had Urbino's duke not led away 
 
 My sister from us, many years had passed 
 
 For us in calm, unclouded happiness. 
 
 But now, alas ! we miss her all too much, 
 
 Miss her free spirit, buoyancy, and life, 
 
 And the rich wit of the accomplished woman. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Too well I know, since she departed hence, 
 
 None hath been able to supply to thee 
 
 The pure enjoyment which her presence gave. 
 
 Alas, how often hath it grieved my soul ! 
 
 How often have I, in the silent grove, 
 
 Poured forth my lamentation ! How ! I cried. 
 
 Is it her sister's right and joy alone 
 
 To be a treasure to the dear one's heart ? 
 
 Does, then, no other soul respond to hers. 
 
 No other heart her confidence deserve ? 
 
 Are soul and wit extinguished ? and should one, 
 
 How great soe'er her worth, engross her love ? 
 
 Forgive me, princess! Often I have wished 
 
 I could be something to thee, — little, perhaps. 
 
 But something : not with words alone, with deeds 
 
 I wished to be so, and in life to prove 
 
 How I had worshipped thee in solitude.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 133 
 
 But I could ne'er succeed, and but too oft 
 
 In error wounded thee, offending one 
 
 By thee protected, or perplexing" more 
 
 What thou didst wish to solve, and thus, alas ! 
 
 E'en in the moment when I fondly strove 
 
 To draw more near thee, felt more distant stilL 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 Thy wish I never have misconstrued, Tasso, 
 How thou dost prejudice thyself I know : 
 Unlike my sister, who possessed the art 
 Of living happily with every one. 
 After so many years, thou art in sooth 
 Thyself well-nigh unfriended. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Censure me ! 
 But after say, where shall I find the man, 
 The woman where, to whom as unto thee 
 I freely can unbosom every thought ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Thou shouldest in my brother more confide. 
 
 TASSO, 
 
 He is my prince ! — Yet do not hence suppose 
 
 That freedom's lawless impulse swells my breast. 
 
 Man is not born for freedom ; and to serve 
 
 A prince deserving honour and esteem 
 
 Is a pure pleasure to a noble mind. 
 
 He is my sovereign, — of that great word 
 
 I deeply feel the full significance. 
 
 I must be silent when he speaks, and learn 
 
 To do what he commandeth, though perchance 
 
 My heart and understanding both rebel.
 
 134 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 That with my brother never can befall. 
 And in Antonio, who is now returned, 
 Thou wilt possess another prudent friend. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I hoped it once, now almost I despair. 
 
 His converse how instructive, and his words 
 
 How useful in a thousand instances ! 
 
 For he possesses, I may truly say, 
 
 All that in me is wanting. But, alas ! V^ 
 
 When round his cradle all the gods assembled ' ^ 
 
 To bring their gifts, the Graces were not there ; 
 
 And he who lacks what these fair Powers impart, 
 
 May much possess, may much communicate • 
 
 But on his bosom we can ne'er repose. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 But we can trust in him, and that is much. 
 
 Thou shouldst not, Tasso, in one man expect 
 
 All qualities combined : Antonio 
 
 What he hath promised surely will perform. 
 
 If he have once declared himself thy friend, 
 
 He'll care for thee, where thou dost fail thyself. 
 
 Ye must be friends ! I cherish the fond hope 
 
 Ere long this gracious work to consummate. 
 
 Only oppose me not, as is thy wont. 
 
 Then, Leonora long hath sojourned here, 
 
 Who is at once refined and elegant : 
 
 Her easy manners banish all restraint. 
 
 Yet thou hast ne'er approached her as she wished. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 To thee I hearkened, or, believe me, princess, 
 
 I should have rather shunned her than approached.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 135 
 
 Though she appear so kind, I know not why, 
 I can but rarely feel at ease with her : 
 E'en when her purpose is to aid her friends, 
 They feel the purpose, and are thence constrained. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Upon this pathway, Tasso, nevermore 
 Will glad companionship be ours ! This track 
 Leadeth us on through solitary groves 
 And silent vales to wander ; more and more 
 The spirit is untuned ; and fondly strives 
 The golden age, that from the outer world 
 For aye hath vanished, to restore within, 
 How vain soever the attempt may prove. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, what a word, my princess, hast thou spoken ! 
 The golden age, ah ! whither is it flown, 
 For which in secret every heart repines ? 
 When o'er the yet unsubjugated earth, 
 Men roamed, hke herds, in joyous liberty ; 
 When on the flowery lawn an ancient tree 
 Lent to the shepherd and the shepherdess 
 Its grateful shadow, and the leafy grove 
 Its tender branches lovingly entwined 
 Around confiding love ; when still and clear, 
 O'er sands for ever pure, the pearly stream 
 The nymph's fair form encircled ; when the snake 
 Glided innoxious through the verdant grass, 
 And the bold youth pursued the daring faun ; 
 When every bird winging the limpid air, 
 And every living thing o'er hill and dale, 
 Proclaimed to man, — What pleases is allowed.
 
 136 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 My friend, the golden age hath passed away ; * 
 Only the good have power to bring it back : 
 Shall I confess to thee my secret thought ? 
 The golden age, wherewith the bard is wont 
 Our spirits to beguile, that lovely prime, 
 Existed in the past no more than now ; 
 And, did it e'er exist, beheve me, Tasso, 
 As then it was, it now may be restored. 
 Still meet congenial spirits, and enhance 
 Each other's pleasures in this beauteous world ; 
 But in the motto change one single word. 
 And say, my friend, — What's fitting is allowed. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Would that of good and noble men were formed 
 
 A great tribunal, to decide for all 
 
 What is befitting ! then no more would each 
 
 Esteem that right which benefits himself. 
 
 The man of power acts ever as he lists. 
 
 And whatsoe'er he doth is fitting deemed. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Wouldst thou define exactly what is fitting, 
 Thou shouldst apply, methinks, to noble women ; 
 For them it most behooveth that in hfe 
 Nought should be done unseemly or unfit : 
 Propriety encircles with a wall 
 The tender, weak, and vulnerable sex. 
 Where moral order reigneth, women reign ; 
 They only are despised where rudeness triumphs^ 
 And wouldst thou touching either sex inquire, 
 'Tis order woman seeketh ; freedom, man. 
 
 ii
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 137 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou thinkest us unfeelicg, wild, and rude ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Not so ! but ye with violence pursue 
 
 A multitude of objects far remote. 
 
 Ye venture for eternity to act ; 
 
 While we, with views more narrow, on this earth 
 
 Seek only one possession, well content 
 
 If that with constancy remain our own. 
 
 For we, alas ! are of no heart secure, 
 
 Whate'er the ardour of its first devotion. 
 
 Beauty is transient, which alone ye seem 
 
 To hold in honour ; what beside remains 
 
 No longer charms, — what doth not charm is dead. 
 
 If among men there were who knew to prize 
 
 The heart of woman, who could recognise 
 
 What treasure of fidelity and love 
 
 Are garnered safely in a woman's breast ; 
 
 If the remembrance of bright single hours 
 
 Could vividly abide within your souls ; 
 
 If your so searching glance could pierce the veil 
 
 Which age and wasting sickness o'er us fling ; 
 
 If the possession which should satisfy 
 
 Wakened no restless cravings in your hearts, — 
 
 Then were our happy days indeed arrived, 
 
 We then should celebrate our golden age. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thy words, my princess, in my breast awake 
 An old anxiety half lulled to sleep. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 What meanest thou, Tasso ? Freely speak with me.
 
 138 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I oft before have heard, and recently 
 
 Again it hath been rumoured, — had I not 
 
 Been told, I might have known it, — princes strive 
 
 To win thy hand. What we must needs expect 
 
 We view with dread, — nay, almost with despair. 
 
 Thou wilt forsake us, — it is natural ; 
 
 Yet how we shall endure it, know I not. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 Be for the present moment unconcerned, — 
 Almost, I might say, unconcerned for ever. 
 I am contented still to tarry here, 
 Nor know I any tie to lure me hence. 
 And if thou wouldst indeed detain me, Tasso, 
 live peaceably with all ; so shalt thou lead 
 A happy hfe thyseK, and I through thee. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Teach me to do whate'er is possible ! 
 My life itself is consecrate to thee. 
 When to extol thee and to give thee thanks 
 My heart unfolded, I experienced first 
 The purest happiness that man can feel ; 
 My soul's ideal I first found in thee. 
 As destiny supreme is raised above 
 The will and counsel of the wisest men. 
 So tower the gods of earth o'er common mortals. 
 The rolhng surge which we behold with dread. 
 Doth all unheeded murmur at their feet 
 Like gentle billows : they hear not the storm 
 Which blusters round us, scarcely heed our prayers, 
 And treat us as we helpless children treat. 
 Letting us fill the air with sighs and plaints. 
 > Thou hast, divine one ! often borne with me,
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 139 
 
 And, like the radiant sun, thy pitying glance 
 Hath jrom m ine eyeUd dried the dew of sorrow. 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 'Tis only just that women cordially 
 Should meet the poet, whose heroic song 
 In strains so varied glorifies the sex. 
 Tender or vahant, thou hast ever known 
 To represent them amiable and noble ; 
 And, if Armida is deserving hate. 
 Her love and beauty reconcile us to her. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Whatever in my song doth reach the heart 
 And find an echo there, I owe to one. 
 And one alone ! No image undefined 
 Hovered before my soul, approaching now 
 In radiant glory, to retire again. 
 I have myself, with mine own eyes, beheld 
 The type of every virtue, every grace ; 
 What I have copied thence will aye endure : 
 The heroic love of Tancred to Clorinda, 
 Erminia's silent and unnoticed truth, 
 Sophronia's greatness and Olinda's woe ; 
 These are not shadows by illusion bred ; 
 I know they are eternal, for they are. 
 And what is more deserving to survive, 
 And silently to work for centuries, 
 Than the confession of a noble love 
 Confided modestly to gentle song ? 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 And shall I name to thee another charm 
 Which, all unconsciously, this song may claim ?
 
 140 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 It doth allure us still to listen to it : 
 We listen, and we think we understand ; 
 We understand, and yet we censure not ; 
 So, with thy song, thou winnest us at last. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, what a heaven thou dost open to me. 
 My princess ! if this radiance blinds me not, 
 I see unhoped-for and eternal bliss 
 Descending gloriously on golden beams. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 No further, Tasso ! many things there are 
 That we may hope to win with violence ; 
 While others only can become our own 
 Through moderation and wise self-restraint. 
 Such, it is said, is virtue, such is love. 
 Which is allied to her. Think well of this ! 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And art thou, then, allowed to raise thine eyes ? 
 Around thee darest thou gaze ? Thou art alone I 
 O'erheard these pillars what the princess spake ? 
 And hast thou witnesses, dumb witnesses 
 Of thine exalted happiness to fear ? 
 The sun arises of a new life-day. 
 Whose splendour dims the light of former days. 
 The goddess, downward stooping, swiftly bears 
 Aloft the mortal. What a wide expanse 
 Is to mine eye discovered, what a realm ! 
 How richly recompensed my burning wish ! 
 In dreams the highest happiness seemed near : 
 This happiness surpasses all my dreams.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 141 
 
 The man born blind conceiveth as he may 
 
 Of light and colour : when upon his eye 
 
 The daylight pours, he hails a new-born sense. 
 
 Full of vague hope and courage, drunk with joy, 
 
 Eeeling I tread this path. Thou givest me much: 
 
 Thou givest lavishly, as earth and heaven. 
 
 With bounteous hand, dispense their costly gifts. 
 
 Demanding in return what such a boon 
 
 Alone empowers thee to demand from me. 
 
 I must be moderate, I must forbear, 
 
 And thus deserve thy cherished confidence. 
 
 What have I ever done that she should choose me ? 
 
 What can I do to merit her regard ? 
 
 Her very confidence doth prove thy worth. 
 
 Yes, princess, to tliine every word and look 
 
 Be my whole soul for ever consecrate ! 
 
 Ask what thou wilt, for I am wholly thine ! , 
 
 To distant regions let her send me forth [I 
 
 In quest of toil and danger and renown ; ' 
 
 Or in the grove, present the golden lyre, 
 
 Devoting me to quiet and her praise. 
 
 Hers am I : me possessing, she shall mould ! 
 
 For her my heart hath garnered every treasure. 
 
 Oh, hath some heavenly power bestowed on me 
 
 An organ thousand-fold, I scarcely then 
 
 Could utter forth my speechless reverence. 
 
 The paiuter's pencil, and the poet's hp. 
 
 The sweetest that e'er sipped the vernal honey, 
 
 I covet now. No ! Tasso shall henceforth 
 
 Wander no more forlorn, 'mong trees, 'mong men, 
 
 Lonely and weak, oppressed with gloomy care ! 
 
 He is no more alone, he is with thee. 
 
 Oh, would that visibly the noblest deed 
 
 Were present here before me, circled round 
 
 With grisly danger ! Onward I would rush. 
 
 And with a joyous spirit risk the life 
 
 Now from her hand received — the choicest men
 
 142 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 As comrades I would hail, a noble band, 
 
 To execute her will and high behest, 
 
 And consummate what seemed impossible. 
 
 Eash mortal ! wherefore did thy lip not hide 
 
 What thou didst feel, till thou couldst lay thyself 
 
 Worthy, and ever worthier, at her feet ? 
 
 Such was thy purpose, such thy prudent wish ! 
 
 Yet be it so ! 'Tis sweeter to receive, 
 
 Free and unmerited, so fair a boon, 
 
 Than, with self-flattery, dream one might perchance 
 
 Successfully have claimed it. Gaze with joy ! 
 
 So vast, so boundless, all before thee lies ! 
 
 And youth, with hope inspired, allures thee on 
 
 Towards the future's unknown, sunny realms ! 
 
 My bosom, heave ! propitious seasons smile 
 
 Once more with genial influence on this plant ! 
 
 It springeth heavenward, and shooteth out 
 
 A thousand branches that unfold in bloom. 
 
 Oh, may it bring forth fruit, — ambrosial fruit ! 
 
 And may a hand beloved the golden spoil 
 
 Cull from its verdant and luxuriant boughs ! 
 
 Scene III. — Tasso, Antonio. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Gladly I welcome thee : it seems indeed 
 As though I saw thee for the first time now ! 
 Ne'er was arrival more auspicious. Welcome ! 
 I know thee now, and all thy varied worth. 
 Promptly I offer thee my heart and hand, 
 And trust that thou wilt not despise my love. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Freely thou offerest a precious gift : 
 Its worth I duly estimate, and hence
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 143 
 
 Would pause awhile before accepting it. 
 I know not yet if I can render thee 
 A full equivalent. Not wilhngly 
 Would I o'erhasty or unthankful seem : 
 Let, then, my sober caution serve for both. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 What man would censure caution ? Every step 
 Of life doth prove that 'tis most requisite ; 
 Yet nobler is it, when the soul reveals, 
 Where we, with prudent foresight, may dispense. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 The heart of each be here his oracle. 
 Since each his error must himself atone. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 So let it be ! My duty I've performed : 
 
 It is the princess' wish we should be friends ; 
 
 Her words I honoured and thy friendship sought. 
 
 I wished not to hold back, Antonio ; 
 
 But I will never be importunate. 
 
 Time and more near acquaintance may induce thee 
 
 To give a warmer welcome to the gift 
 
 Which now thou dost reject, almost with scorn. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Oft is the moderate man named cold by those 
 Who think themselves more warm than other men. 
 Because a transient glow comes over them. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou blamest what I blame, — what I avoid. 
 Young as I am, I ever must prefer 
 Unshaken constancy to vehemence.
 
 144 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Most wisely said ! Keep ever in this mind. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou'rt authorised to counsel and to warn ; 
 For hke a faithful, time-approved friend, 
 Experience holds her station at thy side. 
 But trust me, sir, the meditative heart 
 Attends the warning of each day and hour, 
 And practises in secret every virtue, 
 Which in thy rigour thou wouldst teach anew. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 'Twere well to be thus occupied with self. 
 
 If it were only profitable too. 
 
 His inmost nature no man learns to know 
 
 By introspection : still he rates himself, 
 
 Sometimes too low, but oft, alas ! too high. 
 
 Self-knowledge comes from knowing other men : 
 
 'Tis life reveals to each his genuine worth. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I listen with applause and reverence. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Yet to my words I know thou dost attach 
 A meaning wholly foreign to my thought. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Proceeding thus, we ne'er shall draw more near. 
 It is not prudent, 'tis not well, to meet 
 With purposed misconception any man. 
 Let him be who he may ! The princess' word
 
 TORQUATO TASSO ^c.. 145 
 
 I scarcely needed ; — I have read thy soul : 
 
 Good thou dost purpose and accomplish too. '' ^ _^ 
 
 Thine own immediate fate concerns thee not. V -Ss/. "^^ 
 
 Thou thinkest of others, others thou dost aid; ' ', '^' "^ 
 
 And on life's sea, vexed by each passing gale, -^ 
 
 Thou holdest a heart unmoved. I view thee thus ; 
 
 What, then, were I, did I not draw toward thee ? 
 
 Did I not even keenly seek a share 
 
 Of the locked treasure which thy bosom guards ? 
 
 Open thine heart to me, thou'lt not repent ; 
 
 Know me, and I sure am thou'lt be my friend ; 
 
 Of such a friend I long have felt the need. 
 
 My inexperience, my ungoverned youth, 
 
 Cause me no shame ; for stiU around my brow ^^^ 
 
 The future's golden clouds in brightness rest. .cv'^ 
 
 Oh, to thy bosom take me, noble man ! 
 
 Into the wise, the temperate use of life 
 
 Initiate my rash, my unfledged youth. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou in a single moment wouldst demand 
 What time and circumspection only yield. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 In one brief moment love has power to give 
 
 What anxious toil wins not in lengthened years. 
 
 I do not ask it from thee, I demand. < 
 
 I summon thee in Virtue's sacred name, 
 
 For she is zealous to unite the good ; 
 
 And shall I name to thee another name ? 
 
 The princess, she doth wish it, — Leonora. 
 
 Me she would lead to thee, and thee to me. 
 
 Oh, let us meet her wish with kindred hearts ! 
 
 United let us to the goddess haste, 
 
 To offer her our service, our whole souls,
 
 146 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Leagued to achieve for her the noblest aims. 
 
 Yet once again ! — Here is my hand ! Give thine ! 
 
 I do entreat, hold thyself back no longer, 
 
 O noble man, and grudge me not the joy, 
 
 The good man's fairest joy, without reserve, 
 
 Freely to yield himself to nobler men ! 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou goest with full sail ! It would appear 
 Thou'rt wont to conquer, everywhere to find 
 The pathways spacious and the portals wide. 
 I grudge thee not or merit or success, — 
 Only I see indeed, too plainly see, 
 We from each other stand too far apart. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 It may be so in years and time-tried worth ; — 
 In courage and good will I yield to none. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Good will doth oft prove deedless : courage still 
 Pictures the goal less distant than it is. 
 His brow alone is crowned who reaches it, ^ <J_^ 
 And oft a worthier must forego the crown. ^ ^ ^ 
 Yet wreaths there are of very different fashion,-- 7 
 Light, worthless wreaths, which, idly strolling on. 
 The loiterer oft without the toil obtains. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 What a divinity to one accords. 
 
 And from another sternly doth withhold, 
 
 Is not obtained by each man as he lists.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 147 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 To Fortune before other gods ascribe it : 
 I'll hear thee gladly, for her choice is blind. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Impartial Justice also wears a band, 
 
 And to each bright illusion shuts her eyes. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Fortune 'tis for the fortunate to praise ! 
 
 Let him ascribe to her a hundred eyes 
 
 To scan desert, — stern judgment, and wise choice. 
 
 Call her Minerva, call her what he wiU, 
 
 He holds as just reward her golden gifts, 
 
 Chance ornament as symbol of desert. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou needest not speak more plainly. 'Tis enough ! 
 
 Deeply I see into thine inmost heart, 
 
 And know thee now for Hfe. Oh, would that so 
 
 My princess knew thee also ! Lavish not 
 
 The arrows of thine eyes and of thy tongue ! 
 
 In vain thou aimest at the fadeless wreath 
 
 Entwined around my brow. First be so great 
 
 As not to envy me the laurel wreath. 
 
 And then perchance thou mayst dispute the prize. 
 
 I deem it sacred, yea, the highest good ; 
 
 Yet only show me him, who hath attained 
 
 That after which I strive ; show me the hero, 
 
 Of whom on history's ample page I read ; 
 
 The poet place before me, who himself 
 
 With Homer or with Virgil may compare ; 
 
 Ay, what is more, let me behold the man 
 
 Who hath deserved threefold this recompense,
 
 148 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 And yet can wear the laurel round his brow, 
 With modesty thrice greater than my own, — 
 Then at the feet of the divinity 
 Who thus endowed me, thou shouldst see me kneel. 
 Nor would I stand erect, till from my brow 
 She had to his the ornament transferred. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Till then thou'rt doubtless worthy of the crown. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Let me be justly weighed ; I shun it not : 
 But your contempt I never have deserved. 
 The wreath considered by my prince my due. 
 Which for my brow my princess' hand entwined, 
 None shall dispute with me, and none asperse ! 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 This haughty tone, methinks, becomes thee not. 
 Nor this rash glow, unseemly in this place. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 The tone thou takest here, becomes me too. 
 
 Say, from these precincts is the truth exiled ? 
 
 Within the palace is free thought imprisoned ? 
 
 Here must the noble spirit be oppressed ? 
 
 This is nobihty's appropriate seat, — 
 
 The soul's nobihty ! and may she not. 
 
 In presence of earth's mighty ones, rejoice ? 
 
 She may and shall. Nobles draw near the prince 
 
 In virtue of the rank their sires bequeathed : 
 
 Why should not genius, then, which partial Nature 
 
 Grants, like a glorious ancestry, to few ?
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 149 
 
 Here littleness alone should feel confused, 
 And envy shun tojnanifest its shame ; 
 As no insidious '^idej should attach 
 Its noisome fabric" to these marble walls. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thyself dost show that my contempt is just ! 
 The impetuous youth, forsooth, would seize by force 
 The confidence and friendship of the man ! 
 Eude as thou art, doth think thyself of worth ? 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I'd rather be what thou esteemest rude. 
 Than what I must myself esteem ignoble. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou art still so young that wholesome chastisement 
 May tutor thee to hold a better course. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Not young enough to bow to idols down. 
 Yet old enough to conquer scorn with scorn. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 From contests of the lip and of the lyre, 
 A conquering hero, thou mayst issue forth. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 It were presumptuous to extol my arm ; 
 As yet 'tis deedless ; still I'll trust to it.
 
 ISO TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou trustest to forbearance, which too long 
 Hath spoiled thee in thine insolent career. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 That I am grovra to manhood, now I feel : 
 
 It would have been the farthest from my wish 
 
 To try with thee the doubtful game of arms ; 
 
 But thou dost stir the inward fire ; my blood, 
 
 My inmost marrow, boils ; the fierce desire 
 
 Of vengeance seethes and foams within my breast. 
 
 Art thou the man thou boastest thyself, — then stand. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou knowest as little who, as where, thou art. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 No fane so sacred as to shield contempt. 
 
 Thou dost blaspheme, thou dost profane, this spot, 
 
 Not I, who fairest offerings — confidence, 
 
 Eespect, and love — for thine acceptance brought. 
 
 Thy spirit desecrates this paradise. 
 
 And thy injurious words this sacred hall, — 
 
 Not the indignant heaving of my breast. 
 
 Which boils to wipe away the shghtest stain. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 What a high spirit in a narrow breast ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Here there is space to vent the bosom's rage. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 The rabble also vent their rage in words.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 151 
 
 TASSO. 
 Art thou of noble blood as I am, draw. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 I am, but I remember where I stand. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Come, then, below, where weapons may avail. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou shouldst not challenge, therefore I'll not follow. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 To cowards welcome such impediments. <^ (/-^^ y^^ 
 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 The coward only threats where he's secure. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 With joy would I relinquish this defence. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Degrade thyself : degrade the place thou canst not. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 The place forgive me that I suffered it ! 
 
 (Re draws his sioord) 
 Or draw or follow, if, as now I hate, 
 I'm not to scorn thee to eternity !
 
 152 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Scene IV. — Tasso, Antonio, Alphonso. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 In what unlooked-for strife I find you both ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Calm and unmoved, O prince, thou findest me here. 
 Before a man whom passion's rage hath seized ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 As a divinity I worship thee 
 
 That thus thou tamest me with one warning look. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Relate, Antonio, Tasso, tell me straight ; — 
 Say, why doth discord thus invade my house ? 
 How hath it seized you both, and hurried you 
 Confused and reehng from the beaten track 
 Of decency and law ! I stand amazed. 
 
 TASSO, 
 
 I feel it, thou dost know nor him, nor me. 
 
 This man, reputed temperate and wise, 
 
 Hath toward me, hke a rude, ill-mannered churl, 
 
 Behaved himself with spiteful insolence. 
 
 I sought him trustfully, he thrust me back : 
 
 With constancy I pressed myself on him ; 
 
 And still, with growing bitterness imbued, 
 
 He rested not till he had turned to gall 
 
 My blood's pure current. Pardon ! Thou, my prince. 
 
 Hast found me here, possessed with furious rage. 
 
 If guilty, to this man the guilt is due : 
 
 With violence he fanned the fiery glow ' 
 
 Which, seizing me, hath injured both of us.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 153 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Poetic frenzy hurried him away ! 
 Thou hast, prince ! addressed thyself to me, 
 Hast questioned me : be it to me allowed 
 After this rapid orator to speak. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, yes ! repeat again each several word ; 
 And if before this judge thou canst recall 
 Each syllable, each look, — then dare to do so ! 
 Disgrace thyself a second time, and bear 
 Witness against thyself ! I'll not disown 
 A single pulse-throb, nor a single breath. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 If thou hast somewhat more to say, proceed ; 
 
 If not, forbear, and interrupt me not. 
 
 Whether at first this fiery youth or I 
 
 Began this quarrel, whether he or I 
 
 Must bear the blame, is a wide question, prince. 
 
 Which stands apart, and need not be discussed. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 How so ? The primal question seems to me. 
 Which of the two is right, and which is wrong. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Not so precisely, as the ungoverned mind 
 Might first suppose. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Antonio !
 
 154 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Gracious prince ! 
 Thy hint I honour, but let him forbear ; 
 When I have spoken, he may then proceed : 
 Thy voice must then decide. I've but to say, 
 I can no longer with this man contend ; 
 Can nor accuse him, nor defend myself, 
 Nor give the satisfaction he desires ; 
 For, as he stands, he is no longer free. 
 There hangeth over him a heavy law, 
 Which, at the most, thy favour may relax. 
 Here hath he dared to threat, to challenge me, 
 Scarce in thy presence sheathed his naked sword ; 
 And if between us, prince, thou hadst not stepped, 
 Obnoxious to reproof, I now had stood. 
 Before thy sight, the partner of his fault. 
 
 ALPHONSO (to TASSO). 
 
 Thou hast not acted well. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Mine own heart, prince, 
 And surely thine, doth speak me wholly free. 
 Yes, true it is, I threatened, challenged, drew ; 
 But how mahciously his guileful tongue. 
 With words well-chosen, pierced me to the quick ! 
 How sharp and rapidly his biting tooth 
 The subtle venom in my blood infused ! 
 How more and more the fever he inflamed — 
 Thou thinkest not ! cold and unmoved himself. 
 He to the highest pitch excited me. 
 Thou knowest him not, and thou wilt never know him ! 
 Warmly I tendered him the fairest friendship ; 
 Down at my feet he flung the proffered gift :
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 155 
 
 And had my spirit not with anger glowed, 
 
 Of thy fair service and thy princely grace 
 
 I were for aye unworthy. If the law 
 
 I have forgotten, and this place, forgive ! 
 
 The spot exists not where I dare be base, 
 
 Nor yet where I debasement dare endure. ' "-.^^ 
 
 But if this heart in any place be false, "''-^ 
 
 Or to itself, or thee, — condemn, reject, — 
 
 And let me ne'er again behold thy face. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 How easily the youth bears heavy loads, 
 
 And shaketh misdemeanours off like dust ! 
 
 It were indeed a marvel, knew I not 
 
 Of magic poesy the wondrous power. 
 
 Which loveth still with the impossible 
 
 In frolic mood to sport. I almost doubt 
 
 Whether to thee, and to thy ministers, 
 
 This deed will seem so insignificant. 
 
 For Majesty extends its shield o'er all 
 
 Who draw near its inviolate abode. 
 
 And bow before it as a deity : 
 
 As at the altar's consecrated foot, 
 
 So on its sacred threshold rage subsides ; 
 
 No sword there gleams, no threatening word resounds, 
 
 E'en injured innocence seeks no revenge. 
 
 The common earth affordeth ample scope 
 
 For bitter hate, and rage implacable. 
 
 There will no coward threat, no true man flee : 
 
 Thy ancestors, on sure foundations, based 
 
 These walls, fit shelter for their dignity. 
 
 And, with wise forecast, hedged the palace round 
 
 With fearful penalties. Of all transgressors. 
 
 Exile, confinement, death, the certain doom. 
 
 Respect of persons was not, nor did mercy 
 
 The arm of justice venture to restrain.
 
 156 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The boldest culprit felt himself o'erawed. 
 And now, after a lengthened reign of peace, 
 We must behold unhcensed rage invade 
 The realm of sacred order. Judge, prince. 
 And punish ! for unguarded by the law, 
 Unshielded by his sovereign, who will dare 
 To keep the narrow path that duty bounds ? 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 More than your words, or aught that ye could say, 
 
 My own impartial feelings let me heed. 
 
 If that your duty ye had both fulfilled, 
 
 I should not have this judgment to pronounce ; 
 
 For here the right and wrong are near allied. 
 
 If that Antonio hath offended thee, 
 
 Due satisfaction he must doubtless give, 
 
 In such a sort as thou shalt choose to ask. 
 
 I gladly would be chosen arbiter. 
 
 {To Tasso.) 
 Meanwhile thy misdemeanour subjects thee 
 To brief confinement, Tasso. I forgive thee, 
 And therefore, for thy sake, relax the law. 
 Now leave us, and within thy chamber bide. 
 Thyself thy sole companion, thy sole guard. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Is this, then, thy judicial sentence, prince ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Discernest thou not a father's lenity ? 
 
 TASSO {to ANTONIO). 
 
 With thee, henceforth, I have no more to say. 
 Thine earnest word, prince, delivers me, 
 
 (To Alphonso).
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 157 
 
 A freeman to captivity ! So be it ! 
 
 Thou deemest it right. Thy sacred word I hear, 
 
 And counsel silence to mine inmost heart. 
 
 It seems so strange, so strange, — myself and thee, 
 
 This sacred spot I scarce can recognise. 
 
 Yet him I know full well. Oh ! there is much 
 
 I might and ought to say, yet I submit. 
 
 My lips are mute. Was it indeed a crime ? 
 
 At least, they treat me as a criminal. 
 
 Howe'er my heart rebel, I'm captive now. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 J' 1/ 
 
 "^^ Thou takest it, Tasso, more to heart than L 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 To me it still is inconceivable ; 
 
 And yet not so, I am no child. Methinks 
 
 I should be able to unravel it. 
 
 A sudden light breaks in upon my soul ; 
 
 As suddenly it leaves me in the dark ; 
 
 I only hear my sentence, and submit. 
 
 These are, indeed, superfluous, idle words ! 
 
 Henceforth inure thy spirit to obey. 
 
 Weak mortal ! To forget where thou didst stand ! 
 
 Thou didst forget how high the abode of gods. 
 
 And now art staggered by the sudden fall. 
 
 Promptly obey, for it becomes a man. 
 
 Each painful duty to perform with joy. 
 
 Take back the sword thou gavest me, what time 
 
 The cardinal I followed into France. 
 
 Though not with glory, not with shame, I wore it, — 
 
 No, not to-day. The bright, auspicious gift, 
 
 With heart sore troubled, I relinquish now. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thou knowest not, Tasso, how I feel toward thee.
 
 158 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 My lot is to obey, and not to think ! 
 And destiny, alas ! demands from me 
 Kenunciation of this precious gift. 
 Ill doth a crown become a captive's brow. 
 I from my head myself remove the wreath 
 Wliich seemed accorded for eternity. 
 Too early was the dearest bliss bestowed, 
 And is, alas ! as if I had been boastful. 
 Too early taken away. 
 
 Thou takest back what none beside could take, 
 And what no god a second time accords. 
 We mortals are most wonderfully tried : 
 We could not bear it, were we not endowed 
 By Nature with a kindly levity. 
 Calmly necessity doth tutor us 
 With priceless treasures lavishly to sport : 
 Our hands we open of our own free will — 
 The prize escapes us, ne'er to be recalled. 
 A tear doth mingle with this parting kiss. 
 Devoting thee to mutability ! 
 This tender sign of weakness may be pardoned ! 
 Who would not weep when what was deemed immortal 
 Yields to destruction's power ! Now to this sword 
 (Alas, it won thee not) ally thyself, 
 And round it twined, as on a hero's bier 
 Eeposing, mark the grave where buried he 
 My short-lived happiness, my withered hopes ! 
 Here at thy feet, prince, I lay them down ! 
 For who is justly armed if thou art wroth ? 
 Who justly crowned, on whom thy brow is bent ? 
 I go a captive and await my doom. [Exit. 
 
 (^On a sign from the jprince, a page raises the sword 
 and wreath, and hears them away.)
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 159 
 
 Scene V. — Alphonso, Antonio. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Whither doth frenzied fancy lead the boy ? 
 And in what colours doth he picture forth 
 His high desert and glorious destiny ? 
 Eash, inexperienced, youth esteems itself 
 A chosen instrument, and arrogates 
 Unbounded Hcense. He has been chastised ; 
 And chastisement is profit to the boy, 
 For which the man will render cordial thanks. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 He is chastised too painfully, I fear. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Art thou disposed to practise lenity, 
 
 Restore to him his liberty, prince ! 
 
 And then the sword may arbitrate our strife. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 So be it, if the public voice demands. 
 
 But tell me, how didst thou provoke his ire ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 In sooth, I scarce can say how it befell. 
 
 As man, I may perchance have wounded him. 
 
 As nobleman, T gave him no offence. 
 
 And, in the very tempest of his rage. 
 
 No word unseemly hath escaped this hp.
 
 i6o TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Of such a sort your quarrel seemed to me, 
 And your own word confirms me in my thought. 
 ./When men dispute we justly may esteem 
 The wiser the offender. Thou with Tasso 
 Shouldst not contend, but rather guide his steps : 
 It would become thee more. 'Tis not too late. 
 The sword's decision is not called for here. 
 So long as I am blessed with peace abroad, 
 So long would I enjoy it in my house. 
 Eestore tranquilh'ty, — thou canst with ease. 
 Leonora Sanvitale may at first 
 Attempt to soothe him with her honeyed lip ; 
 Then go thou to him ; in my name restore 
 His liberty ; with true and noble words 
 Endeavour to obtain his confidence. 
 Accomplish this with all the speed thou canst : 
 As a kind friend and father speak with him. 
 Peace I would know restored ere I depart : 
 All, if thou wilt, is possible to thee. 
 We gladly will remain another hour, 
 Then leave it to the ladies' gentle tact 
 To consummate the work commenced by thee. 
 So when we come again, the last faint trace 
 Of this rash quarrel will be quite effaced. 
 It seems thy talents will not rust, Antonio ! 
 Scarcely hast thou concluded one affair. 
 And on thy first return thou seekest another. 
 In this new mission may success be thine ! 
 
 ANTONIO, 
 
 I am ashamed : my error in thy words, 
 
 As in the clearest mirror, I discern ! 
 
 How easy to obey a noble prince 
 
 Who doth convince us while he doth command I
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 16 1 
 
 ACT III. 
 Scene I. 
 
 PRINCESS {alone). 
 
 Where tarries Leonora ? Anxious fear, 
 Augmenting every moment, agitates 
 My inmost heart. Scarce know I what befell ; 
 Which party is to blame I scarcely know. 
 Oh, that she would return ! I would not yet 
 Speak with my brother, with Antonio, 
 Till I am more composed, till I have heard 
 How matters stand, and what may be the issue. 
 
 Scene II. — Princess, Leonora. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 What tidings, Leonora ? Tell me aU : 
 
 How stands it with our friends ? Say, what befell ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 More than I knew before I have not learned. 
 Contention rose between them ; Tasso drew ; 
 Thy brother parted them : yet it would seem 
 That it was Tasso who began the fray. 
 Antonio is at large, and with his prince 
 Converses freely. Tasso, in his chamber. 
 Abides meanwhile, a captive and alone. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Doubtless Antonio irritated him, 
 
 And met with cold disdain the high-toned youth. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 I do beheve it : when he joined us first, 
 A cloud already brooded o'er his brow.
 
 i62 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 Alas, that we so often disregard 
 The pure and silent warnings of the heart ! 
 Softly a god doth whisper in our breast, 
 Softly, yet audibly, doth counsel us, 
 Both what we ought to seek and what to shun. 
 This morn Antonio hath appeared to me 
 E'en more abrupt than ever, — more reserved. 
 When at his side I saw our youthful bard, 
 My spirit warned me. Only mark of each 
 The outward aspect, — countenance and tone, 
 Look, gesture, bearing ! Everything opposed : 
 Affection they can never interchange. 
 Yet Hope persuaded me, the flatterer : 
 They both are sensible, she fondly urged. 
 Both noble, gently nurtured, and thy friends. 
 What bond more sure than that which links the good ? 
 I urged the youth : with what devoted zeal, • 
 How ardently, he gave himself to me ! 
 Would I had spoken to Antonio then ! 
 But I delayed ; so recent his return, 
 That I felt shy, at once and urgently, 
 \ To recommend the youth to his regard : 
 y On custom I relied, and courtesy. 
 
 And on the common usage of the world, 
 E'en between foes which smoothly intervenes. 
 I dreaded not from the experienced man 
 The rash impetuosity of youth. 
 The ill seemed distant, now, alas, 'tis here. 
 Oh, give me counsel .' What is to be done ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thy words, my princess, show that thou dost feel 
 How hard it is to counsel. 'Tis not here 
 Between congenial minds a misconception : 
 A word, if needful an appeal to arms.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 163 
 
 Peace in such case might happily restore. 
 Two men they are, who therefore are opposed, 
 I've felt it long, because by Nature cast 
 In moulds so opposite, that she the twain 
 Could never weld into a single man. 
 And were they to consult their common weal, 
 A league of closest friendship they would form : 
 Then as one man their path they would pursue, 
 With power and joy and happiness through Hfe. 
 I hoped it once, I now perceive in vain. 
 To-day's contention, whatsoe'er the cause, 
 Might be appeased ; but this assures us not 
 Or for the morrow, or for future time. 
 Methinks 'twere best, that Tasso for awhile 
 Should journey hence : to Eome he might repair, 
 To Florence also bend forthwith his course ; 
 A few weeks later I should meet him there, 
 And as a friend could work upon his mind : 
 Thou couldest here meanwhile Antonio, 
 Wlio has become almost a stranger to us, -^ 
 Once more within thy friendly circle bring ; 
 And thus benignant time, that grants so much, 
 Might grant, perchance, what seems impossible. 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 A happiness will thus, my friend, be thine. 
 Which I must needs forego ; say, is that right ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou only wouldst forego what thou thyself, 
 As things at present stand, could st not enjoy. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 So calmly shall I banish hence a friend ?
 
 a 64 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Eather retain whom thou dost seem to banish. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The duke will ne'er consent to part with him. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 When he shall see as we do, he will yield. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 'Tis painful in one's friend to doom one's self. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Yet, with thy friend, thou'lt also save thyself. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I cannot give my voice that this shall be. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 An evil stUl more grievous then expect. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Thou givest me pain, — uncertain thy success. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Ere long we shall discover who doth err. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Well, if it needs must be so, say no more. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 He conquers grief who firmly can resolve.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 165 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Eesolved I am not : nathless let it be, 
 If he for long doth not absent himself ; 
 And let us, Leonora, care for him. 
 That he may never be oppressed by want, 
 But that the duke, e'en in a distant land, 
 May graciously assign him maintenance. 
 Speak with Antonio : with my brother he 
 Can much accomplish, and will not remember 
 The recent strife, against our friend or us. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Princess, a word from thee would more avaiL 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I cannot, well thou knowest, Leonora, 
 Solicit favours for myself and friends, 
 As my dear sister of Urbino can. 
 A calm, secluded life I'm fain to lead. 
 And from my brother gratefully accept 
 Whate'er his princely bounty freely grants. 
 For this reluctance once I blamed myself : 
 I've conquered now, and blame myself no more. 
 A friend full oft would censure me, and say, 
 Unselfish art thou, and unselfishness 
 Is good ; but thou dost carry it so far, 
 That even the requirements of a friend 
 Thou canst not rightly feel. I let it pass. 
 And even this reproach must also bear. 
 It doth the more rejoice me, that I now 
 Can be in truth of service to our friend : 
 My mother's heritage descends to me, 
 And to his need I'll gladly minister.
 
 1 66 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Princess, I, too, can show myself his friend. 
 
 In truth he is no thrifty manager : 
 
 My skilful aid shall help him where he fails. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 "Well, take him then, — if part with him I must, 
 
 To thee before all others be he given : 
 
 I now perceive it will be better so. 
 
 This sorrow also must my spirit hail 
 
 As good and "wholesome ? Such my doom from youth 
 
 I am inured to it. But half we feel 
 
 Renunciation of a precious joy, 
 
 "When we have deemed its tenure insecure. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Happy according to thy high desert 
 I hope to see thee. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Leonora ! Happy ? 
 Who, then, is happy ? — So indeed I might 
 Esteem my brother, for his constant mind 
 Still with unswerving temper meets his fate ; 
 Yet even he ne'er reaped as he deserved. 
 My sister of Urbino, is she happy ? 
 With beauty gifted and a noble heart ! 
 Childless she's doomed to live : her younger lord 
 Values her highly, and upbraids her not ; 
 But happiness is stranger to their home. 
 Of what avail our mother's prudent skill, 
 Her varied knowledge, and her ample mind ? 
 Her could they shield from foreign heresy ? 
 They took us from her : now she is no more, 
 And, dying, left us not the soothing thought, 
 That, reconciled with God, her spirit passed.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 167 
 
 LEONOKA. ^ ^ 
 
 Oh, mark not only that which fails to each, p\ 
 
 Consider rather what to each remains ! 
 
 And, princess, what doth not remain to thee ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 What doth remain to me, Leonora ? Patience ! 
 Which I have learned to practise from my youth. 
 When friends and kindred, knit in social love, 
 In joyous pastime whiled the hours away. 
 Sickness held me a captive in my chamber; 
 And, in the sad companionship of pain, 
 I early learned the lesson, — to endure ! 
 One pleasure cheered me in my solitude, — 
 The joy of song. I communed with myself. 
 And lulled, with soothing tones, the sense of pain. 
 The restless longing, the unquiet wish, 
 Till sorrow oft would grow to ravishment, 
 And sadness' self to harmony divine. 
 Not long, alas ! this comfort was allowed : 
 The leech's stern monition silenced me; 
 I was condemned to live and to endure 
 E'en of this sole remaining joy bereft. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Yet many friends attached themselves to thee ; 
 And now thou art in health, art joyous too. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I am in health ; that is, I am not sick. 
 And many friends I have, whose constancy 
 Doth cheer my heart ; and, ah ! I had a friend — 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou hast him still.
 
 i68 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 But soon must part with him. 
 That moment was of deep significance 
 When first I saw him. Scarce was I restored 
 From many sorrows ; sickness and dull pain 
 Were scarce subdued ; with shy and timid glance 
 I gazed once more on life, once more rejoiced 
 In the glad sunshine and my kindred's love 
 And hope's dehcious balm inhaled anew ; 
 Forward I ventured into life to gaze, 
 And friendly forms saluted me from far ; 
 Then was it, Leonora, that my sister 
 First introduced to me the youthful bard : 
 She led him hither ; and, shall I confess ? — 
 My heart embraced him, and will hold for aye. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 My princess ! Let it not repent thee now ! 
 
 To apprehend the noble is a gain 
 
 Of which the soul can never be bereft. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The fair, the excellent, we needs must fear : 
 'Tis like a flame, which nobly serveth us, 
 So long as on our household hearth it burns, 
 Or sheds its lustre from the friendly torch. 
 How lovely then ! Who can dispense with it ? 
 But if, unwatched, it spreads destruction round. 
 What anguish it occasions ! Leave me now, 
 I babble ; and 'twere better to conceal, 
 Even from thee, how weak I am and sick. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 The sickness of the heart doth soonest yield 
 To tender plaints and soothing confidence.
 
 L? 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 169 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 If in confiding love a cure be found, 
 
 I'm whole, so strong my confidence in thee. 
 
 Alas ! my friend, I am indeed resolved : 
 
 Let him depart ! But, ah ! I feel already 
 
 The long-protracted anguish of the day 
 
 When I must all forego that glads me now. 
 
 His beauteous form, transfigured in my dream, 
 
 The morning sun will dissipate no more ; 
 
 No more the blissful hope of seeing him, 
 
 With joyous longing, fill my waking sense ; 
 
 Nor, to discover him, my timid glance 
 
 Search wistfully our garden's dewy shade. 
 
 How sweetly was the tender hope fulfilled 
 
 To spend each eve in intercourse with him ! J \ 
 
 How, while conversing, the desire increased, 
 
 To know each other ever more and more ; 
 
 And still our souls, in sweet communion joined, 
 
 Were daily tuned to purer harmonies. 
 
 What twilight-gloom now falls around my path ! 
 
 The gorgeous sun, the genial light of day. 
 
 Of this fair world the splendours manifold. 
 
 Shorn of their lustre, are enveloped all 
 
 In the dark mist which now environs me. 
 
 In bygone times, each day comprised a life : 
 
 Hushed was each care, mute each foreboding voice. 
 
 And, happily embarked, we drifted on, 
 
 Without a rudder, o'er hfe's lucid wave. 
 
 Now, in the darkness of the present hour, 
 
 Futurity's vague terrors seize my soul. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 The future will restore to thee thy friend, 
 And bring to thee new happiness, new joy.
 
 170 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 What I possess, that would I gladly hold : 
 
 Change may divert the mind, but profits not. 
 
 With youthful longing I have never joined 
 
 The motley throng who strive from fortune's urn 
 
 To snatch an object for their craving hearts. 
 
 I honoured him, and could not choose but love him, 
 
 For that with him my life was life indeed, 
 
 rilled with a joy I never knew before. 
 
 At first I whispered to my heart, beware ! 
 
 Shrinking I shunned, yet ever drew more near. 
 
 So gently lured, so cruelly chastised ! 
 
 A pure, substantial blessing ghdes away ; 
 
 And, for the joy that filled my yearning heart, 
 
 Some demon substitutes a kindred pain. 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 If friendship's soothing words console thee not, 
 This beauteous world's calm power, and healing time, 
 Will imperceptibly restore thy heart. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Ay, beauteous is the world ; and many a joy 
 
 Floats through its wide dominion here and there. 
 
 Alas ! That ever, by a single step. 
 
 As we advance, it seemeth to retreat, 
 
 Our yearning souls along the path of life 
 
 Thus step by step alluring to the grave ! 
 
 To mortal man so seldom is it given 
 
 To find what seemed his heaven-appointed bliss ; 
 
 Alas ! so seldom he retains the good 
 
 Which, in auspicious hour, his hand had grasped ; 
 
 The treasure to our heart that came unsought 
 
 Doth tear itself away, and we ourselves 
 
 Yield that which once with eagerness we seized.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 171 
 
 There is a bliss, but, ah ! we know it not : 
 We know it, but we know not how to prize. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 LEONORA {alone). 
 
 The good and noble heart my pity moves : 
 
 How sad a lot attends her lofty rank ! 
 
 Alas, she loses ! — thinkest thou to win ? 
 
 Is his departure hence so requisite ? 
 
 Or dost thou urge it for thyself alone, — 
 
 To make the heart and lofty genius thine, 
 
 Which now thou sharest, — and unequally ? 
 
 Is't honest so to act ? What lackest thou yet ? 
 
 Art thou not rich enough ? Husband and son. 
 
 Possessions, beauty, rank, — all these thou hast, 
 
 And him wouldst have beside ? What ? Lovest thou 
 
 him ? 
 How comes it else that thou canst not endure 
 To live without him ? This thou darest confess ! 
 How charming is it in his mind's clear depths 
 One's self to mirror ! Doth not every joy 
 Seem doubly great and noble, when his song 
 Wafts us aloft as on the clouds of heaven ? 
 Then first thy lot is worthy to be envied ! 
 Not only hast thou what the many crave, 
 But each one knoweth what thou art and hast ! 
 Thy fatherland doth proudly speak thy name : 
 This is the pinnacle of earthly bliss. 
 Is Laura's, then, the only favoured name 
 That aye from gentle lips shall sweetly flow ? 
 Is it Petrarca's privilege alone. 
 To deify an unknown beauty's charms ? 
 Who is there that with Tasso can compare ? 
 As now the world exalts him, future time
 
 172 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 With honour due shall magnify his name. 
 What rapture, in the golden prime of Hfe, 
 To feel his presence, and with him to near, 
 With airy tread, the future's hidden realm ! 
 Thus should old age and time their influence lose. 
 And powerless be the voice of rumour bold, 
 Whose breath controls the billows of applause. 
 All that is transient in his song survives ; 
 Still art thou young, still happy, when the round 
 Of changeful time shall long have borne thee on. 
 Him thou must have, yet takest nought from her. 
 For her affection to the gifted man 
 Doth take the hue her other passions wear : 
 Pale as the tranquil moon, whose feeble rays 
 Dimly illumine the night-wanderer's path, 
 They gleam, but warm not, and diffuse around 
 No bhssful rapture, no keen sense of joy. 
 If she but know him happy, though afar. 
 She will rejoice, as when she saw him daily. 
 And then, 'tis not my purpose from this court, 
 From her, to banish both myself and friend. 
 I will return, will bring him here again. 
 So let it be ! — My rugged friend draws near : 
 We soon shall see if we have power to tame him» 
 
 Scene IV. — Leonoea, Antonio. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 War and not peace thou bringest : it would seem 
 As camest thou from a battle, from a camp, 
 Where violence bears sway, and force decides, 
 And not from Rome, where solemn policy 
 Uplifts the hand to bless a prostrate world, 
 Which she beholds obedient at her feet.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 173 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 I must admit the censure, my fair friend ; 
 
 But my apology lies close at hand. 
 
 'Tis dangerous to be compelled so long 
 
 To wear the show of prudence and restraint. 
 
 Still at our side an evil genius lurks, 
 
 And, with stem voice, demands from time to time 
 
 A sacrifice, which I, alas ! to-day 
 
 Have offered, to the peril of my friends. 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 Thou hast so long with strangers been concerned, 
 And to their humours hast conformed thine own, 
 That, once more with thy friends, thou dost their aims 
 Mistake, and as with strangers dost contend. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Herein, beloved friend, the danger lies ! 
 
 With strangers we are ever on our guard, 
 
 Still are we aiming with observance due. 
 
 To win their favoiir which may profit us : 
 
 But, with our friends, we throw off all restraint ; 
 
 Eeposing in their love, we give the rein 
 
 To peevish humour ; passion uncontrolled 
 
 Doth break its bounds ; and those we hold most dear 
 
 Are thus amongst the first whom we offend. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 In this calm utterance of a thoughtful mind 
 I gladly recognise my friend again. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Yes : it has much annoyed me, I confess. 
 That I to-day so far forgot myself.
 
 174 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 But yet admit, that when a valiant man 
 
 From irksome labour comes, with heated brow, 
 
 Thinking to rest himself for further toil. 
 
 In the cool eve beneath the longed-for shade, 
 
 And finds it, in its length and breadth, possessed 
 
 Already by some idler, he may well 
 
 Feel something human stirring in his breast ! 
 
 LEONOEA. 
 
 If he is truly human, then, methinks, 
 He gladly will partake the shade with one 
 Who lightens toil and cheers the hour of rest y 
 With sweet discourse and soothing melodies. 
 Ample, my friend, the tree that casts the shade ; 
 Nor either needs the other dispossess. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 We will not bandy similes, fair friend. 
 
 Full many a treasure doth the world contain, 
 
 Which we to others yield and with them share : 
 
 But there exists one prize, which we resign 
 
 With willing hearts to high desert alone ; 
 
 Another that, without a secret grudge. 
 
 We share not even with the highest worth — 
 
 And, wouldst thou touching these two treasures ask, 
 
 They are the laurel, and fair woman's smile. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 How ! Hath yon chaplet round our stripling's brow 
 
 Given umbrage to the grave, experienced man ? 
 
 Say, for his toil divine, his lofty verse, 
 
 Couldst thou thyself a juster meed select ? 
 
 A ministration in itself divine. 
 
 That floateth in the air in tuneful tones. 
 
 Evoking airy forms to charm our souls — 
 
 Such ministration, in expressive form,
 
 (^ 
 
 "^ 
 
 L 
 
 ^-\ 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 175 
 
 Or graceful symbol, finds its fit reward. 
 
 As doth the bard scarce deign to touch the earth, 
 
 So doth the laurel lightly touch his brow. 
 
 His worshippers, with barren homage, bring, 
 
 As tribute meet, a fruitless branch, that thus 
 
 They may with ease acquit them of their debt. 
 
 Thou dost not grudge the martyr's effigy. 
 
 The golden radiance round the naked head ; 
 
 And, certes, where it rests, the laurel crown 
 
 Is more a sign of sorrow than of joy. ^. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 How, Leonora ! Would thy lovely lips 
 Teach me to scorn the world's poor vanities ? 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 There is no need, my friend, to tutor thee 
 
 To prize each good according to its worth. , -^ 
 
 Yet it would seem that, e'en like common men, ,'-^^^ \^ 
 
 The sage philosopher, from time to time, ' \ a 
 
 Needs that the treasures he is blest withal, ^ ^, 
 
 In their true hght before him be displayed. 
 
 Thou, noble man, wilt not assert thy claim 
 
 To a mere empty phantom of renown. 
 
 The service that doth bind thy prince to thee, 
 
 By means of which thou dost attach thy friends, 
 
 Is true, is living service ; hence the meed 
 
 Which doth reward it must be Kving too. 
 
 Thy laurel is thy sovereign's confidence, 
 
 Which, like a cherished burden, gracefully 
 
 Eeposes on thy shoulders, — thy renown. 
 
 Thy crown of glory, is the general trust. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou speakest not of woman's smile, — that, surely, 
 Thou wilt not tell me is superfluous.
 
 176 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 As people take it. Thou dost lack it not ; 
 
 And lighter far, were ye deprived of it, 
 
 To thee would be the loss than to our friend. 
 
 For, say a woman were in thy behalf 
 
 To task her skill, and in her fashion strive 
 
 To care for thee, dost think she would succeed ? 
 
 With thee security and order dwell ; 
 
 And as for others, for thyself thou carest ; 
 
 Thou dost possess what friendship fain would give ; 
 
 Whilst in our province he requires our aid. 
 
 A thousand things he needs, which, to supply, 
 
 Is to a woman no unwelcome task. 
 
 The fine-spun linen, the embroidered vest, 
 
 He weareth gladly, and endureth not. 
 
 Upon his person, aught of texture rude, 
 
 Such as benefits the menial. For with him 
 
 All must be rich and noble, fair and good ; 
 
 And yet, all this to win, he lacks the skill. 
 
 Nor, even when possessed, can he retain ; 
 
 Improvident, he's still in want of gold ; 
 
 Nor from a journey e'er returneth home, 
 
 But a third portion of his goods is lost. 
 
 His valet plunders him ; and thus, Antonio, 
 
 The whole year round one has to care for him. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 And these same cares endear him more and more. 
 Much-favoured youth, to whom his very faults 
 As virtue count, to whom it is allowed 
 As man to play the boy, and who forsooth 
 May proudly boast his charming weaknesses ! 
 Thou must forgive me, my fair friend, if here 
 Some little touch of bitterness I feel. 
 Thou sayest not all, — sayest not how he presumes. 
 And proves himself far shrewder than he seems.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 177 
 
 He boasts two tender flames ! The knots of love. 
 As fancy prompts him, he doth bind and loose, 
 And wins with such devices two such hearts ! 
 Is't credible ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Well ! Well ! This only proves 
 That 'tis but friendship that inspires our hearts. 
 And, e'en if we returned him love for love, 
 Should we not well reward his noble heart, 
 Who, self-obhvious, dreams his hfe away 
 In lovely visions to enchant his friends ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Go on ! Go on ! Spoil him yet more and more ; 
 Account his selfish vanity for love ; 
 Offend all other friends, with honest zeal 
 Devoted to your service ; to his pride 
 Pay voluntary tribute ; quite destroy 
 The beauteous sphere of social confidence ! 
 
 LEONOEA. 
 
 We are not quite so partial as thou thinkest : 
 
 In many cases we exhort our friend. 
 
 We wish to mould his mind, that he may know 
 
 More happiness himself, and be a source 
 
 Of purer joy to others. Wliat in him 
 
 Doth merit blame is not concealed from us. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Yet much that's blamable in him ye praise. 
 I've known him long, so easy 'tis to know him : 
 Too proud he is to wear the least disguise. 
 We see him now retire into himself,
 
 178 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 As if the world were rounded in his breast ; 
 
 Lost in the working of that inner world, 
 
 The outward universe he casts aside : 
 
 And his rapt spirit, self-included, rests. 
 
 Anon, as when a spark doth fire a mine, 
 
 Upon a touch of sorrow or of joy. 
 
 Anger or whim, he breaks impetuous forth. 
 
 Now he must compass all things, all retain. 
 
 All his caprices must be reahsed ; 
 
 What should have ripened slowly through long years, 
 
 Must, in a moment, reach maturity ; 
 
 And obstacles, which years of patient toil 
 
 Could scarce remove, be levelled in a trice. 
 
 He from himself the impossible demands. 
 
 That he from others may demand it too : 
 
 The extremest limits of existing things 
 
 His soul would hold in contiguity ; 
 
 This one man in a milhon scarce achieves, 
 
 And he is not that man : at length he falls. 
 
 No whit the better, back into himself. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Others he injures not, himself he injures. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Yet others he doth outrage giievously. 
 Canst thou deny, that in his passion's height, 
 Which o'er his spirit oft usurps control, 
 T^e prince and e'en the princess he contemns, 
 And dares at whom he may to hurl abuse ? 
 True, for a moment only it endures ; 
 But then, the moment quickly comes again. 
 His tongue, as little as his breast, he rules.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 179 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 To me, indeed, it seems advisable, 
 
 That he should leave Ferrara for awhile : — 
 
 Himself would benefit, and others too. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Perchance, — perchance, too, not. But now, my friend, 
 
 It is not to be thought of. For myself, 
 
 I will not on my shoulders bear the blame. 
 
 It might appear as if I drove him hence. 
 
 I drive him not. As far as I'm concerned, 
 
 He at the court may tarry undisturbed ; 
 
 And if with me he will be reconciled. 
 
 And to my counsel if he will give heed, 
 
 We may live peaceably enough together. 
 
 LEONOEA. 
 
 Now thou dost hope to work upon a mind 
 Which lately thou didst look upon as lost. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 We always hope ; and still, in every case, 
 
 'Tis better far to hope than to despair : 
 
 For who can calculate the possible ? 
 
 Our prince esteems him ; he must stay with us ; 
 
 And, if we strive to fashion him in vain, 
 
 He's not the only one we must endure. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 So free from passion and from prejudice 
 
 I had not thought thee : — thy conversion's sudden. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Age must, my friend, this one advantage claim. 
 That, though from error it be not exempt,
 
 l8o TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Its balance it recovers speedily. 
 
 Thou didst at first essay to heal the breach 
 
 Between thy friend and me. I urge it now. 
 
 Do what thou canst to bring him to himself, 
 
 And to restore things to their wonted calm. 
 
 Myself will visit him, when I shall know. 
 
 From thee, that he is tranquil, when thou thinkest 
 
 My presence will not aggravate the evil. 
 
 But what thou dost, that do within the hour : 
 
 Alphonso will return to town ere night ; 
 
 I must attend him there. Meanwhile, farewell. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 LEONORA {alone). 
 
 For once, dear friend, we are not of one mind : 
 Our separate interests go not hand in hand. 
 I'll use the time to compass my design, 
 And will endeavour to win Tasso. Quick ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Chamber. 
 
 TASSO (alone). 
 
 Art thou awakened from a dream, and is 
 The fair delusion suddenly dissolved ? 
 Thee, in fruition of the highest joy. 
 Hath sleep o'ermastered, and now holds thy soul 
 Tortured and bound with heavy fetters ? Ay, 
 Thou art awake, and dreamest ? Where the hours 
 That round thy head with flowery garlands played ? 
 The days, when unrestrained thy yearning soul 
 Freely explored the heaven's o'erarching blue ?
 
 TORQUATO TASSO iSi 
 
 Thou'rt living still ; art sensible to touch ; 
 
 Feelest, yet knowest not if thou livest still. 
 
 Say ! for mine own or for another's fault, 
 
 Am I, as criminal, thus captive here ? 
 
 Have I been guilty that I suffer thus ? 
 
 Is not my fancied crime a merit rather ? 
 
 With kindly feeling I encountered him, 
 
 Persuaded by the heart's delusive hope, 
 
 He must be man who bears a mortal form : 
 
 With open arms I sped to his embrace, 
 
 And felt no human breast but bolts and bars. 
 
 Oh, had I but with prudent forecast weighed, 
 
 How I most fitly could receive the man, 
 
 Who from the first inspired me with mistrust ! 
 
 Let me, however, whatso'er betide. 
 
 For ever to this one assurance cling : — 
 
 'Twas she herself ! She stood before my view ! 
 
 She spoke to me ! I hearkened to her voice ! 
 
 Her look, her tone, her words' sweet import, — these, 
 
 These are for ever mine ; nor time nor fate. 
 
 Nor ruthless chance, can plunder me of these ! 
 
 And if my spirit hath too swiftly soared, 
 
 If all too promptly in my breast I gave 
 
 Vent to the flame which now consumes my heart, 
 
 So let it be, — I never can repent, 
 
 E'en though my fortune were for ever wrecked. 
 
 To her devoted, I obey with joy 
 
 The hand that beckoned me to ruin's brink. 
 
 So let it be ! Thus have I proved myself 
 
 Deserving of the precious confidence 
 
 That cheers my soul, — ay, cheers it in this hour 
 
 When cruel fate unlocks the sable gates 
 
 Of long-protracted woe. — Yes, now 'tis done ! 
 
 For me the sun of gracious favour sets, 
 
 Never to rise again : his glance benign 
 
 The prince withdraws, and leaves me standing here. 
 
 Abandoned on this narrow, gloomy path.
 
 i82 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The hateful and ill-boding feathered throng, 
 Obscene attendants upon ancient night, 
 Swarm forth, and whirl round my devoted head. 
 Whither, oh, whither, shall I bend my steps. 
 To shun the loathsome brood that round me flit, 
 And 'scape the dread abyss that yawns before ? 
 
 Scene IL — Leonora, Tasso. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Dear Tasso, what hath chanced ? Hath passion's glow, 
 Hath thy suspicious temper, urged thee thus ? 
 How hath it happened ? We are all amazed. 
 Where now thy gentleness, thy suavity, 
 Thy rapid insight, thy discernment just, 
 Which doth award to every man his due ; 
 Thine even mind, which beareth, what to bear 
 The wise are prompt, the vain are slow, to learn ; 
 The prudent mastery over hp and tongue ? 
 I scarcely recognise thee now, dear friend. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And what if all were gone, — for ever gone ! 
 
 If as a beggar thou shouldst meet the friend 
 
 Whom just before thou hadst deemed opulent ! 
 
 Thou speakest truth : I am no more myself. 
 
 Yet I am as much so as I was. 
 
 It seems a riddle, yet it is not one. 
 
 The tranquil moon, that cheers thee through the night, 
 
 Whose gentle radiance, with resistless power. 
 
 Allures thine eye, thy soul, doth float by day 
 
 An insignificant and pallid cloud. 
 
 In the bright glare of daylight I am lost : 
 
 Ye know me not, I scarcely know myself.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 183 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Such words, dear friend, as thou hast uttered them, 
 I cannot comprehend. Explain thyself. 
 Say, hath that rugged man's offensive speech 
 So deeply wounded thee, that now thou dost 
 Misjudge thyself and us ? Confide in me. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I'm not the one offended. Me thou seest 
 
 Thus punished here because I gave offence. 
 
 The knot of many words the sword would loose 
 
 With promptitude and ease ; but I'm not free. 
 
 Thou art scarce aware, — nay, start not, gentle 
 
 friend, — 
 'Tis in a prison thou dost meet me here. 
 Me, as a schoolboy, doth the prince chastise, — 
 His right I neither can nor will dispute. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou seemest moved beyond what reason warrants. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Dost deem me, then, so weak, so much a child. 
 That this occurrence could o'erwhelm me thus ? 
 Not what has happened wounds me to the quick, 
 'Tis what it doth portend, that troubles me. 
 Now let my foes conspire ! The field is clear. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Many thou boldest falsely in suspect : 
 
 Of this, dear friend, I have convinced myself. 
 
 Even Antonio bears thee no ill will. 
 
 As thou presumest. The quarrel of to-day —
 
 1 84 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Let that be set aside : I only view 
 
 Antonio as he was and yet remains. 
 
 Still hath his formal prudence fretted me, 
 
 His proud assumption of the master's tone. 
 
 Careless to learn whether the listener's mind 
 
 Doth not itself the better track pursue, 
 
 He tutors thee in much which thou thyself 
 
 More truly, deeply feelest ; gives no heed 
 
 To what thou sayest, and perverts thy words. 
 
 Misconstrued thus by a proud man, forsooth, 
 
 Who smiles superior from his fancied height ! 
 
 I am not yet or old or wise enough 
 
 To answer meekly with a patient smile. 
 
 It could not hold ; we must at last have broken ; 
 
 The evil greater had it been postponed. 
 
 One lord I recognise, who fosters me : 
 
 Him I obey, but own no master else. 
 
 In poesy and thought I will be free. 
 
 In act the world doth limit us enough. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Yet often with respect he speaks of thee. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou meanest with forbearance, prudent, subtle. 
 'Tis that annoys me ; for he knows to use 
 Language so smooth and so conditional, 
 That seeming praise from him is actual blame : 
 And there is nothing so offends my soul, 
 As words of commendation from his lip. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou shouldst have heard but lately how he spoke 
 Of thee and of the gift which bounteous nature
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 185 
 
 So largely hath conferred on thee. He feels 
 Thy genius, Tasso, and esteems thy worth. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Trust me, no selfish spirit can escape 
 
 The torment of base envy. Such a man 
 
 Pardons in others honour, rank, and wealth ; 
 
 For thus he argues, these thou hast thyself, 
 
 Or thou canst have them, if thou persevere. 
 
 Or if propitious fortune smile on thee. 
 
 But that which Nature can alone bestow. 
 
 Which aye remaineth inaccessible 
 
 To toil and patient effort, which nor gold. 
 
 Nor yet the sword, nor stern persistency. 
 
 Hath power to wrest, — that he will ne'er forgive. 
 
 Not envy me ? The pedant who aspires 
 
 To seize by force the favour of the muse ? 
 
 Who, when he strings the thoughts of other bards, 
 
 Fondly presumes he is a bard himself ? 
 
 The prince's favour he would rather yield, — 
 
 Though that he fain would limit to himself, — 
 
 Than the rare gift which the celestial powers 
 
 Have granted to the poor, the orphaned youth. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Oh that thy vision were as clear as mine ! 
 
 Thou readest him wrongly, thou art deceived in him. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And if I err, I err with right good will ! 
 I count him for my most inveterate foe. 
 And should be inconsolable were I 
 Compelled to think of him more leniently. 
 'Tis foolish in all cases to be just : 
 It is to wi'ong one's self. Are other men
 
 1 86 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Toward us so equitable ? No, ah, no ! 
 Man's nature, in its narrow scope, demands 
 The twofold sentiment of love and hate. 
 Eequires he not the grateful interchange 
 Of day and night, of wakefulness and sleep ? 
 No : from henceforward I do hold this man 
 The object of my direst enmity ; 
 And nought can snatch from me the cherished joy 
 Of thinking of him ever worse and worse. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Dear friend, I see not, if this feeling last, 
 How thou canst longer tarry at the court. 
 Thou knowest the just esteem in which he's held. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I'm fully sensible, fair friend, how long 
 I have already been superfluous here. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 That thou art not, that thou canst never be ! 
 
 Thou rather knowest how both prince and princess 
 
 Eejoice to have thee in their company. 
 
 The sister of Urbino, comes she not 
 
 As much for thine as for her kindred's sake ? 
 
 They all esteem thee, recognise thy worth, 
 
 And each confides in thee without reserve. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 O Leonora ! Call that confidence ! 
 
 Of state affairs has he one single word, 
 
 One earnest word, vouchsafed to speak with me ? 
 
 In special cases, when he has advised. 
 
 Both with the princess, and with others too, 
 
 To me, though present, no appeal was made.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 187 
 
 The cry was ever then, Antonio comes ! 
 Consult Antonio ! To Antonio write ! 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thanks here, methinks, were juster than complaint. 
 Thus in unchallenged freedom leaving thee, 
 He to thy genius fitting homage pays. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 He lets me rest, because he deems me useless. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Thou art not useless, e'en because thou restest. 
 Care and vexation, hke a child beloved, 
 Thou stni dost cherish, Tasso, in thy breast. 
 It oft has struck me, and the more I think. 
 The more convinced I feel, on this fair soil, 
 Where fate auspicious seemed to plant thy lot, 
 Thou dost not flourish. — May I speak, my friend ? 
 May I advise thee ? — Thou shouldst hence depart. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Spare not thy patient, gentle leech I Extend 
 
 The draught medicinal, nor think thereon 
 
 If it is bitter. — This consider well. 
 
 Kind, prudent friend, if he can yet be cured ! 
 
 I see it all myself, 'tis over now ! 
 
 Him I indeed could pardon, he not me ; 
 
 He's needful to them, I, alas ! am not. 
 
 And he has prudence, I, alas ! have none. 
 
 He worketh to my injury, and I 
 
 Cannot and will not counterwork. My friends 
 
 Leave things to chance ; they see things otherwise ; 
 
 They scarcely struggle, who should stoutly fight.
 
 1 88 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Thou thinkest I should depart, I think so too ; — 
 Then, farewell, friends ! — This, too, I must endure. 
 You're parted from me. — Oh, to me be given 
 The courage and the strength to part from you ! 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Seen from a distance things show less confused, 
 That in the present serve but to perplex. 
 Perchance, when absent, thou wilt recognise 
 The love which here environs thee, wilt learn 
 The worth of friends, and feel how the wide world 
 Cannot replace those dearest to the heart. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I shall experience this ! Alas ! I've known 
 The world from early youth, how, pressing on, 
 She lightly leaves us, helpless and forlorn, 
 Like sun and moon and other deities. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 Dear friend, if thou wilt lend an ear to me, 
 This sad experience thou wilt not repeat. 
 If I may counsel thee, thou wilt at first 
 Eepair to Florence, — there thou'lt find a friend 
 Will cherish thee most kindly, — 'tis myself ! 
 Thither I travel soon to meet my lord ; 
 And there is nothing would afford us, Tasso, 
 A richer pleasure than thy company. 
 I need not tell thee, for thyself dost know, 
 How noble is the prince who ruleth there ; 
 What men, what women too, our favoured town 
 Doth cherish in her bosom. — Thou art silent ! 
 Consider well my counsel, and resolve !
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 189 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Full of sweet promise are thy words, dear friend, 
 And in accordance with my secret wish. 
 But 'tis too sudden : let me pause awhile, — 
 Let me consider ! I will soon resolve ! 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 I leave thee now, and with the fairest hope 
 For thee, for us, and also for this house. 
 Only reflect, and weigh the matter well : 
 Thou scarcely wilt devise a better plan. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Yet one thing more, tell me, beloved friend, 
 How is the princess minded toward me ? Speak ! 
 "Was she displeased with me ? Give me her words. — 
 Hath she severely blamed me ? Tell me all ! 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 She knows thee well, and therefore has excused thee. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Say, have I lost her friendship ? Flatter not. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 A woman's friendship is not lightly lost. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Without reluctance will she let me go ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 If 'twill promote thy welfare, certainly.
 
 igo TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Shall I not lose the favour of the prince ? 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 His nature's noble : thou mayest trust in him. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And shall we leave the princess all alone ? 
 Thou lea vest her ; and though perhaps not much; 
 I know full well that I was something, to her. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 An absent friend is sweet society, 
 
 When of his welfare we are well assured. 
 
 My plan succeeds, I see thee happy now : 
 
 Thou wilt not hence depart unsatisfied. 
 
 The prince commands, — Antonio seeks thee, Tasso. 
 
 He censures in himself the bitterness 
 
 With which he wounded thee. I do entreat, 
 
 Eeceive him with forbearance when he comes. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I have no cause to shun the interview. 
 
 LEONORA. 
 
 And oh dear friend, that Heaven would grant me this : 
 
 To make it clear to thee ere thou departest. 
 
 That in thy fatherland there is not one 
 
 Pursues thee, hates, or covertly molests. 
 
 Thou art deceived ; and as for others' pleasure 
 
 Wont art thou still to poetise, alas ! 
 
 Thou in this case dost weave a cunning web
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 191 
 
 To blind thyself, the which to rend asunder 
 
 I'll do mine utmost, that with vision clear 
 
 Thou mayest pursue life's glad career untrammelled. 
 
 Farewell ! I hope for happy words ere long. 
 
 Scene III, 
 
 TASSO {alone). 
 
 I must believe, forsooth, that no one hates me, — 
 
 That no one persecutes, that all the guile, 
 
 The subtle mahce, that environs me. 
 
 Is but the coinage of my own sick brain ! 
 
 I must acknowledge that myself am wrong ! 
 
 And am unjust to many, who in sooth 
 
 Deserve it not ! What ! This confess e'en now, 
 
 When clearly, in the open face of day. 
 
 Appear their malice and my rectitude ! 
 
 I ought to feel most deeply, how the prince 
 
 To me with generous breast his grace imparts, 
 
 And ia rich measure loads me with his gifts, 
 
 E'en at the time when he is weak enough 
 
 To let his eyes be blinded by my foes. 
 
 Yea, doubtless, and his hand be fettered too ! 
 
 His own delusion he cannot perceive ; 
 
 That they deluders are, I may not prove ; 
 
 And that unchecked he may delude himself. 
 
 And they delude him whensoe'er they please, 
 
 I still must hold my peace, — must yield forsooth ! 
 
 And who thus counsels me ? With prudent zeal 
 
 And thoughtful kindness, who doth urge me thus ? 
 
 Leonora's self, Leonora Santivale. 
 
 Considerate friend ! Ha, ha, I know thee now ! 
 
 Oh, wherefore did I ever trust her words ? 
 
 She was not honest when she uttered forth
 
 192 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 To me her favour and her tenderness 
 
 With honeyed words ! No : hers hath ever been 
 
 And still remains a crafty heart : she turns 
 
 With cautious, prudent step where fortune smiles. 
 
 How often have I wilhngly deceived 
 
 Myself in her ! And yet it was in truth 
 
 But mine own vanity deluded me ! 
 
 I knew her, but, self-jBattered, argued thus, — 
 
 True, she is so toward others ; but toward thee 
 
 Her heart is honest, her intention pure. 
 
 Mine eyes are open now, — alas, too late ! 
 
 I was in favour — on the favourite 
 
 How tenderly she fawned ! I'm fallen now, 
 
 And she, like fortune, turns her back on me. 
 
 Yes, now she comes, the agent of my foe : 
 
 She ghdes along, the little artful snake. 
 
 Hissing, with slippery tongue, her magic tones. 
 
 How gracious seemed she ! More than ever gracious ! 
 
 How soothingly her honeyed accents flowed ! 
 
 Yet could the flattery not long conceal 
 
 The false intention : on her brow appeared 
 
 Too legibly inscribed the opposite 
 
 Of all she uttered. Quick I am to feel 
 
 Whene'er the entrance to my heart is sought 
 
 With a dishonest purpose. I should hence ! 
 
 Should hie to Florence with convenient speed. 
 
 And why to Florence ? Ah, I see it all ! 
 There reigns the rising house of Medici, 
 True, with Ferrara not in open feud ; 
 But secret rivalry, with chilling hand. 
 Doth hold asunder e'en the noblest hearts. 
 If from those noble princes I should reap 
 Distinguished marks of favour, as indeed 
 I may anticipate, the courtier here 
 
 I
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 193 
 
 "Would soon impugn my gratitude and truth, 
 And would, with easy wile, achieve his purpose. 
 
 Yes, I will go, but not as ye desire : 
 I will away, and farther than ye think. 
 
 Why should I linger ? Who detains me here ? 
 
 Too well I understood each several word 
 
 That I drew forth from Leonora's lips ! 
 
 With anxious heed each syllable I caught ; 
 
 And now I fully know the princess' mind, — 
 
 That, too, is certain : let me not despair ! 
 
 " Without reluctance she will let me go 
 
 If it promote my welfare." Would her heart 
 
 Were mastered by a passion that would whelm 
 
 Me and my welfare ! Oh, more welcome far 
 
 The grasp of death than of the frigid hand 
 
 That passively resigns me ! — Yes, I go ! — 
 
 Now be upon thy guard, and let no show 
 
 Of love or friendship bind thee ! ' None hath power 
 
 Now to deceive thee, if not self-deceived. 
 
 Scene IV. — Antonio, Tasso. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Tasso, I come to say a word to thee, 
 
 If thou'rt disposed to hear me tranquilly. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I am denied, thou knowest, the power to act ; 
 It well becomes me to attend and listen. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Tranquil I find thee, as I hoped to find, 
 And speak to thee in all sincerity.
 
 194 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 But in the prince's name I first dissolve 
 The slender band that seemed to fetter thee. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Caprice dissolves it, as caprice imposed : 
 I yield, and no judicial sentence claim. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Next, Tasso, on my ovm behalf I speak. 
 I have, it seems, more deeply wounded thee, 
 Than I — myself by divers passions moved - 
 Was conscious of. But no insulting v^^ord 
 Hath from my hp incautiously escaped. 
 Nought hast thou, as a noble, to avenge. 
 And, as a man, wilt not refuse thy pardon. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Whether contempt or insult galls the most, 
 I will not now determine : that doth pierce 
 The inmost marrow, this but frets the skiu. 
 The shaft of insult back returns to him 
 Who winged the missile, and the practised sword 
 Soon reconciles the opinion of the world — 
 A wounded heart is difficult to cure. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 'Tis now my turn to press thee urgently : 
 Oh, step not back, yield to mine earnest wish, 
 The prince's wish, who sends me unto thee ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I know the claims of duty, and submit. 
 Be it, as far as possible, forgiven ! 
 The poets tell us of a magic spear.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO IQS 
 
 Which could a woimd, inflicted by itself, 
 Through friendly contact, once again restore. 
 The human tongue hath also such a power : 
 I will not peevishly resist it now. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 I thank thee, and desire that thou at once 
 Wouldst put my wish to serve thee to the proof. 
 Then say if I in aught can pleasure thee ; — 
 Most gladly will I do so : therefore speak. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thine offer tallies with my secret wish : 
 But now thou hast restored my liberty, 
 Procure for me, I pray, the use of it. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 What meanest thou ? More plainly state thy wish. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 My poem, as thou knowest, I have ended : 
 Yet much it wants to render it complete. 
 To-day I gave it to the prince, and hoped 
 At the same time to proffer my request. 
 Full many of my friends I now should find 
 In Eome assembled ; they have writ to me 
 Their judgments touching divers passages ; 
 By many I could profit ; others still 
 Eequire consideration ; and some lines 
 I should be loath to alter, till at least 
 My judgment has been better satisfied. 
 All this by letter cannot be arranged, 
 While intercourse would soon untie the knots. 
 I thought myself to ask the prince to-day ;
 
 196 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The occasion failed : I dare not venture now, 
 And must for this permission trust to thee. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 It seems imprudent to absent thyself 
 
 Just at the moment when thy finished work 
 
 Commends thee to the princess and the prince. 
 
 A day of favour is a day of harvest : 
 
 We should be busy when the corn is ripe. 
 
 Nought wilt thou win if thou departest hence, 
 
 Perchance thou'lt lose what thou hast won already. 
 
 Presence is still a powerful deity, — 
 
 Learn to respect her influence, — tarry here ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I nothing have to fear : Alphonse is noble, 
 
 Such hath he always proved himself toward me ; — 
 
 To his heart only will I owe the boon 
 
 "Which now I crave. By no mean, servile arts 
 
 Will I obtain his favour. Nought will I receive 
 
 Which it can e'er repent him to have given. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Then, do not now solicit leave to go : 
 He will not willingly accord thy suit ; 
 And much I fear he wUl reject it, Tasso. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Duly entreated, he will grant my prayer : 
 Thou hast the power to move him, if thou wilt. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 But what sufficient reason shall I urge ?
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 19 7 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Let every stanza of my poem speak ! 
 
 The scope was lofty that I aimed to reach, 
 
 Though to my genius inaccessible. 
 
 Labour and strenuous effort have not failed ; 
 
 The cheerful stroll of many a lovely day, 
 
 The silent watch of many a solemn night, 
 
 Have to this pious lay been consecrate. 
 
 With modest daring I aspired too near 
 
 The mighty masters of the olden time ; 
 
 With lofty courage planned to rouse our age 
 
 From lengthened sleep, to deeds of high emprise ; 
 
 Then, with a Christian host, I hoped to share 
 
 The toil and glory of a holy war. 
 
 And, that my song may rouse the noblest men, 
 
 It must be worthy of its lofty aim. 
 
 What worth it hath is to Alphonso due : 
 
 For its completion I would owe him thanks. 
 
 ANTONIO, 
 
 The prince himself is here, with other men, 
 Able as those of Eome to be thy guides. 
 Here is thy station, here complete thy work : 
 Then haste to Eome to carry out thy plan. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Alphonso first inspired my muse, and he 
 
 Will be the last to counsel me. Thy judgment, 
 
 The judgment also of the learned men 
 
 Assembled at our court, I highly value : 
 
 Ye shall determine when my friends at Eome 
 
 Fail to produce conviction in my mind. 
 
 But them I must consult. Gonzaga there 
 
 Hath summoned a tribunal before which 
 
 I must present myself. I scarce can wait. 
 
 Flaminio de' Nobili, Angelio
 
 1 98 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Da Barga, Antoniano, and Speron Speroni ! 
 To thee they must be known. — What names they are ! 
 They in my soul, to worth which gladly yields, 
 Inspire at once both confidence and fear. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Self-occupied, thou thinkest not of the prince : 
 I tell thee that he will not let thee go. 
 And, if he does, 'twill be against his wish. 
 Thou wilt not surely urge what he to thee 
 Unwilhngly would grant. And shall I here 
 Still mediate, what I cannot approve ? 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Dost thou refuse me, then, my first request 
 When I would put thy friendship to the proof ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Timely denial is the surest test 
 
 Of genuine friendship : love doth oft confer 
 
 A baneful good, when it consults the wish, 
 
 And not the l|appiness, of him who sues. 
 
 Thou, in this moment, dost appear to me 
 
 To overprize the object of thy wish, 
 
 Which, on the instant, thou wouldst have fulfilled. 
 
 The erring man would oft by vehemence 
 
 Compensate what he lacks in truth and power : 
 
 Duty enjoins me now, with all my might. 
 
 To check the rashness that would lead thee wrong. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I long have known this tyranny of friendship, 
 Which of all tyrannies appears to me
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 199 
 
 The least endurable. Because, forsooth, 
 Our judgments differ, thine must needs be right: 
 I gladly own that thou dost wish my welfare, 
 Eequire me not to seek it in thy way. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 And wouldst thou have me, Tasso, in cold blood, 
 With full and clear conviction, injure thee ? 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I will at once absolve thee from this care ! 
 Thou hast no power to hold me with thy words. 
 Thou hast declared me free : these doors which lead 
 Straight to the prince, stand open to me now. 
 The choice I leave to thee. Or thou or I ! 
 The prince goes forth, no time is to be lost : 
 Determine promptly ! Dost thou still refuse, 
 I go myself, let come of it what will, 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 A little respite grant me ; not to-day : 
 Wait, I beseech thee, till the prince returns ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 If it were possible, this very hour ! 
 
 My soles are scorched upon this marble floor, 
 
 Nor can my spirit rest until the dust 
 
 Of the free highway shrouds the fugitive. 
 
 I do not entreat thee ! How unfit I am 
 
 Now to appear before the prince thou seest ; 
 
 And thou must see — how can I hide from thee — 
 
 That I'm no longer master of myself ; 
 
 No power on earth can sway my energies ; 
 
 Fetters alone can hold me in control !
 
 2 00 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 No tyrant is the prince, he spake me free. 
 Once to his words how gladly I gave ear ! 
 To-day to hearken is impossible. 
 Oh, let me have my freedom but to-day, 
 That my vexed spirit may regain its peace 
 Back to my duty I will soon return. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Thou makest me dubious. How shall I resolve ? 
 That error is contagious, I perceive. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 If thy professions I'm to count sincere, 
 Perform what I desire, as well as thou canst. 
 Then will the prince release me, and I lose 
 Neither his favour nor his gracious aid. 
 For that I'll thank thee, — ay, with cordial thanks. 
 But if thy bosom bear an ancient grudge, 
 Wouldst thou for ever banish me this court. 
 For ever wouldst thou mar my destiny. 
 And drive me friendless forth into the world, 
 Then hold thy purpose and resist my prayer ! 
 
 '~ANTONIO. 
 
 Tasso ! — for I'm doomed to injure thee, — 
 
 1 choose the way which thou thyself dost chooser 
 The issue will determine who doth err ! 
 
 Thou wilt away ! I warn thee ere thou goest : 
 Scarce shalt thou turn thy back upon this house,, 
 Ere thou shalt yearn in spirit to return, 
 While wilful humour still shall urge thee on. 
 Sorrow, distraction, and desponding gloofh 
 In Rome await thee. There as well as here 
 Thou'lt miss thine aim. But this I do not say
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 201 
 
 To counsel thee : alas ! I but predict 
 
 What soon will happen, and invite thee, Tasso, 
 
 In the worst exigence to trust to me. 
 
 I now, at thy desire, will seek the prince. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 TASSO (alone). 
 
 Ay, go, and in the fond assurance go. 
 
 That thou hast power to bend me to thy will. 
 
 I learn dissimulation, for thou art 
 
 An able master, and I prompt to learn. 
 
 Thus life full oft compels us to appear, 
 
 Yea, e'en to be, like those whom in our hearts 
 
 We haughtily despise. How clearly now 
 
 I see the subtle web of court intrigue ! 
 
 Antonio desires to drive me hence. 
 
 Yet would not seem to drive me. He doth play 
 
 The kind, considerate friend, that I may seem 
 
 Incapable and weak ; installs himself 
 
 My guardian too, degrading to a child, 
 
 Him whom he could not bend to be a slave. 
 
 With clouds of error thus he darkens truth. 
 
 And blinds ahke the princess and the prince. 
 
 They should indeed retain me, so he counsels. 
 
 For with fair talents Nature has endowed me ; 
 
 Although, alas ! she has accompanied 
 
 Her lofty gifts with many weaknesses, 
 
 With a foreboding spirit, boundless pride, 
 
 And sensibihty too exquisite. 
 
 It cannot now be otherwise, since Fate, 
 
 In her caprice, has fashioned such a man : 
 
 We must consent to take him as he is, 
 
 Be patient, bear with him, and then, perchance,
 
 202 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 On days auspicious, as an iinsought good, 
 Find pleasure in his joy -diffusing gift ; 
 While for the rest, why, e'en as he was born, 
 He must have hcense both to live and die. 
 
 Where now Alphonso's firm and constant mind ? 
 
 The man who braves his foe, who shields his friend, 
 
 In him who treats me thus can I discover ? 
 
 Now I discern the measure of my woe ! 
 
 This is my destiny, — toward me alone 
 
 All change their nature, — ay, the very men 
 
 Who are with others steadfast, firm, and true, 
 
 In one brief moment, for an idle breath. 
 
 Swerve lightly from their constant quahty. 
 
 Has not this man's arrival here, alone. 
 
 And in a single hour, my fortune marred ? 
 
 Has he not, even to its very base. 
 
 Laid low the structure of my happiness ? 
 
 This, too, must I endure, — even to-day ! 
 
 Yea, as before all pressed around me, now 
 
 I am by all abandoned ; as before 
 
 Each strove to seize, to win me for himself, 
 
 All thrust me from them, and avoid me now. 
 
 And wherefore ? My desert, and all the love 
 
 Wherewith I was so bounteously endowed. 
 
 Does he alone in equal balance weigh ? 
 
 Yes, all forsake me now. Thou too ! Thou too ! 
 
 Beloved princess, thou, too, leavest me ! 
 
 Hath she, to cheer me in this dismal hour, 
 
 A single token of her favour sent ? 
 
 Have I deserved this from her ? — Thou poor heart, 
 
 Whose very nature was to honour her ! — 
 
 How, when her gentle accents touched mine ear. 
 
 Feelings unutterable thrilled my breast ! 
 
 When she appeared, a more ethereal light
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 203 
 
 Outshone the light of day. Her eyes, her Hps, 
 
 Drew me resistlessly : my very knees 
 
 Trembled beneath me ; and my spirit's strength 
 
 Was all required to hold myself erect, 
 
 And curb the strong desire to throw myself 
 
 Prostrate before her. Scarcely could I quell 
 
 The giddy rapture. Be thou firm, my heart ! 
 
 No cloud obscure thee, thou clear mind ! She too ! 
 
 Dare I pronounce what yet I scarce believe ? 
 
 I must believe, yet dread to utter it. 
 
 She too ! She too ! Think not the slightest blame, 
 
 Only conceal it not. She too ! She too ! 
 
 Alas ! This word, whose truth I ought to doubt, 
 
 Long as a breath of faith survived in me, — 
 
 This word, like fate's decree, doth now at last 
 
 Engrave itself upon the brazen rim 
 
 That rounds the full-scrolled tablet of my woe. 
 
 Now first mine enemies are strong indeed : 
 
 For ever now I am of strength bereft. 
 
 How shall I combat when she stands opposed 
 
 Amidst the hostile army ? How endure 
 
 If she no more reach forth her hand to me ? 
 
 If her kind glance the supphant meet no more ? 
 
 Ay, thou hast dared to think, to utter it. 
 
 And, ere thou couldst have feared, — behold, 'tis true ! 
 
 And now, ere yet despair, with brazen talons. 
 
 Doth rend asunder thy bewildered brain, 
 
 Lament thy bitter doom, and utter forth 
 
 The unavailing cry. She too ! She too !
 
 204 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — A Garden. — Alphonso, Antonio. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Obedient to thy wish, I went to Tasso 
 A second time : I come from him but now. 
 I sought to move him, yea, I strongly urged, 
 But from his fixed resolve he swerveth not ; 
 He earnestly entreats, that for a time 
 Thou wouldst permit him to repair to Eome. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 His purpose much annoys me, I confess : — 
 
 I rather tell thee my vexation now. 
 
 Than let it strengthen, smothered in my breast. 
 
 He fain would travel, good ! I hold him not. 
 
 He will depart, he will to Eome : so be it ! 
 
 Let not the crafty Medici, nor yet 
 
 Scipio Gonzaga, wrest him from me, though ! 
 
 'Tis this hath made our Italy so great, 
 
 That rival neighbours zealously contend 
 
 To foster and employ the ablest men. 
 
 Like chief without an army, shows a prince 
 
 Who round him gathers not superior minds ; 
 
 And who the voice of Poesy disdains 
 
 Is a barbarian, be he who he may. 
 
 Tasso I found, I chose him for myself, 
 
 I number him with pride among my train ; 
 
 And, having done so much for him already, 
 
 I should be loath to lose him without cause. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 I feel embarrassed, prince ; for in thy sight 
 I bear the blame of what to-day befell :
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 205 
 
 That I was iu the wrong, I frankly own, 
 And look for pardon to thy clemency ; 
 But I were inconsolable couldst thou, 
 E'en for a moment, doubt my honest zeal 
 In seeking to appease him. Speak to me 
 With gracious look, that so I may regain 
 My self-rehance and my wonted calm. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Feel no disquietude, Antonio ; — 
 
 In no wise do I count the blame as thine : 
 
 Too well I know the temper of the man. 
 
 Know all too well what I have done for him, 
 
 How often I have spared him, and how oft 
 
 Toward liim I have overlooked my rightful claims. 
 
 O'er many things we gain the mastery. 
 
 But stern necessity and lengthened time * 
 
 Scarce give a man dominion o'er himself. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 When other men toil in behalf of one, 
 'Tis fit this one with dihgence inquire 
 How he may profit others in return. 
 He who hath fashioned his own mind so well. 
 Who hath aspired to make each several science, 
 And the whole range of human lore, his own. 
 Is he not doubly bound to rule himself ? 
 Yet doth he ever give it e'en a thought ? 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Continued rest is not ordained for man. 
 Still, when we purpose to enjoy ourselves, 
 To try our valour, fortune sends a foe ; 
 To try our equanimity, a friend.
 
 2o6 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 ANTONIO, 
 
 Does Tasso e'en fulfil man's primal duty, 
 To regulate his appetite, in which 
 He is not, like the brute, restrained by nature ? 
 Does he not rather, like a child, indulge 
 • In all that charms and gratifies his taste ? 
 When has he mingled water with his wine? 
 Comfits and condiments, and potent drinks. 
 One with another still he swallows down. 
 And then complains of his bewildered brain, 
 His hasty temper, and his fevered blood. 
 Bailing at nature and at destiny. 
 How oft I've heard him in a bitter style 
 With childish folly argue with his leech. 
 'Twould raise a laugh, if aught were laughable 
 Which teases others and torments one's self. 
 " Oh, this is torture ! " anxiously he cries. 
 Then, in splenetic mood, " Why boast your art ? 
 Prescribe a cure ! " — " Good ! " then exclaims the leech, 
 " Abstain from this or that." — " That can I not." — 
 " Then, take this potion." — " No : it nauseates me. 
 The taste is horrid, nature doth rebel." — 
 " Well, then, drink water." — " Water ! never more ! 
 Like hydrophobia is my dread of it," — 
 " Then, your disease is hopeless." — " Why, I pray ? " — 
 " One evil symptom will succeed another ; 
 And, though your ailment should not fatal prove, 
 'Twill daily more torment you." — " Fine, indeed ! 
 Then, wherefore play the leech ? You know my case ; 
 You should devise a remedy, and one 
 That's palatable too, that I may not 
 First suffer pain before relieved from it." 
 I see thee smile, my prince : 'tis but the truth ; 
 Doubtless thyself hast heard it from his lips. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Oft I have heard, and have as oft excused. 
 
 I 
 
 '^'^^
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 207 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 It is most certain, an intemperate life, 
 As it engenders wild, distempered dreams, 
 At length doth make us dream in open day. 
 What's his suspicion but a troubled dream ? 
 He thinks himself environed still by foes. 
 None can discern his gift who envy not ; 
 And all who envy, hate and persecute. 
 Oft with complaints he has molested thee : 
 Notes intercepted, violated locks, 
 Poison, the dagger ! All before him float ! 
 Thou dost investigate his grievance, — well. 
 Doth aught appear ? Why, scarcely a pretext. 
 No sovereign's shelter gives him confidence. 
 The bosom of no friend can comfort him. 
 Wouldst promise happiness to such a man, 
 Or look to him for joy unto thyself ? 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thou wouldst be right, Antonio, if from him 
 I sought my own immediate benefit ; 
 But I have learned no longer to expect 
 Service direct and unconditional. 
 All do not serve us in the selfsame way : i 
 Who needeth much, according to his gifts ] ,- 
 Must each employ, so is he ably served. '"' 
 
 This lesson from the Medici we learned, 
 'Tis practised even by the popes themselves. 
 With what forbearance, magnanimity, 
 And princely patience, have they not endured 
 Full many a genius, who seemed not to need 
 Their ample favour, yet who needed it ! 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Who knows not this, my prince ? The toil of life 
 Alone can tutor us life's ^ts to prize:
 
 2o8 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 In youth he hath already wou so much, 
 He cannot relish aught in quietness. 
 Oh that he were compelled to earn the blessings 
 Which now with liberal hand are thrust upon him 
 With manly courage he would brace his strength, 
 And at each onward step feel new content. 
 The needy noble has attained the height 
 Of his ambition, if his gracious prince 
 Eaise him, with hand benign, from poverty, 
 And choose him as an inmate of the court. 
 Should he then honour him with confidence, 
 And before others raise him to his side, 
 Consulting him in war, or state affairs, 
 Why, then, methinks, with silent gratitude. 
 The modest man may bless his lucky fate. 
 And with all this, Tasso enjoys besides 
 Youth's purest happiness : — his fatherland 
 Esteems him highly, looks to him with hope. 
 Trust me for this, — his peevish discontent 
 On the broad pillow of his fortune rests. 
 He comes, dismiss him kindly, give him time 
 In Eome, in Naples, whereso'er he will, 
 To search in vain for what he misses here. 
 Yet here alone can ever hope to find. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Back to Ferrara will he first return ? 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 He rather would remain in Belriguardo. 
 And, for his journey, what he may require, 
 He will request a friend to forward to him. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 I am content. My sister, with her friend, 
 Eeturns immediately to town ; and I,
 
 I 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 209 
 
 Eiding with speed, hope to reach home before them. 
 Thou'lt follow straight when thou for him hast cared ; 
 Give needful orders to the castellan, 
 That in the castle he may here abide 
 So long as he desires, until his friend 
 Forward his equipage, and till the letters, 
 Which we shall give him to our friends at Eome, 
 Have been transmitted. Here he comes. Farewell ! 
 
 Scene H. — Alphonso, Tasso. 
 
 TASSO {with embarrassment). 
 
 The favour thou so oft hast shown me, prince, 
 Is manifest, in clearest light, to-day. 
 The deed which, in the precincts of thy palace, 
 I lawlessly committed, thou hast pardoned ; 
 Thou hast appeased and reconciled my foe ; 
 Thou dost permit me for a time to leave 
 The shelter of thy side, and, rich in bounty, 
 Wilt not withdraw from me thy generous aid. 
 Inspired with confidence, I now depart, 
 And trust that this brief absence will dispel 
 The heavy gloom that now oppresses me. 
 My renovated soul shall plume her wing. 
 And pressing forward on the bright career, 
 Which, glad and bold, encouraged by thy glance, 
 I entered first, deserve thy grace anew. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Prosperity attend thee on thy way ! 
 With joyous spirit, and to health restored, 
 Eeturn again amongst us. Thus thou shalt 
 To us, in double measure, for each hour 
 Thou now deprivest us of, requital bring. 
 Letters I give thee to my friends at Eome,
 
 2IO TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 And also to my kinsmen, and desire 
 That to my people everywhere thou shouldst 
 Confidingly attach thyself ; — though absent, 
 Thee I shall certainly regard as mine. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Thou dost, O prince ! o'erwhelm with favours one 
 Who feels himself unworthy, who e'en wants 
 Ability to render fitting thanks. 
 Instead of thanks I proffer a request : 
 My poem now lies nearest to my heart. 
 My labours have been strenuous, yet I feel 
 That I am far from having reached my aim. 
 Fain would I there resort, where hovers yet 
 The inspiring genius of the mighty dead. 
 Still raining influence : there would I become 
 Once more a learner, then more worthily 
 My poem might rejoice in thine applause. 
 Oh, give me back the manuscript, which now 
 I feel ashamed to know within thy hand ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thou wilt not surely take from me to-day 
 What but to-day to me thou hast consigned. 
 Between thy poem, Tasso, and thyself, 
 Let me now stand as arbiter. Beware — 
 Nor, through assiduous diligence, impair 
 The genial nature that pervades thy rhymes, 
 And give not ear to every critic's word ! 
 With nicest tact the poet reconciles 
 The judgments thousandfold of different men. 
 In thoughts and life at variance with each other, 
 And fears not numbers to displease, that he 
 Still greater numbers may enchant the more.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 And yet I say not but that here and there 
 Thou mayst, with modest care, employ the file. 
 I promise thee at once, that in brief space, 
 Thou shalt receive a copy of thy poem. 
 Meanwhile I will retain it in my hands. 
 That I may first enjoy it with my sisters. 
 Then, if thou bring'st it back more perfect still, 
 Our joy will be enhanced ; and here and there 
 We'll hint corrections, only as thy friends. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I can but modestly repeat my prayer : 
 Let me receive the copy with all speed. 
 My spirit resteth solely on this work. 
 Its full completion it must now attain. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 I praise the ardour that inspires thee, Tasso ! 
 Yet, were it possible, thou for awhile 
 Shouldst rest thy mind, seek pleasure in the world, 
 And find some means to cool thy heated blood. 
 Then would thy mental powers, restored to health. 
 Through their sweet harmony, spontaneous yield 
 What now, with anxious toil, in vain thou seekest. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 My prince, it seems so ; but I am in health 
 
 When I can yield myself to strenuous toil. 
 
 And this my toil again restores my health. 
 
 Long hast thou known me ; thou must long have seen, 
 
 I thrive not in luxurious indolence. 
 
 Eest brings no rest to me. Alas ! I feel it : 
 
 My mind, by nature, never was ordained,
 
 2 12 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Borne on the yielding billows of the hour, 
 To float in pleasure o'er time's ample sea. 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 Thine aims, thy dreams, all whelm thee in thyself. 
 Around us there doth yawn full many a gulf, 
 Scooped by the hand of destiny ; but here, 
 In our own bosoms, lies the deepest ; — ay ! 
 \ And tempting 'tis to hurl one's self therein ! 
 ^ I charge thee, Tasso, snatch thee from thyself ! 
 The man will profit, though the bard may lose. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 To quell the impulse I should vainly strive. 
 Which, ceaseless in my bosom, day and night 
 Alternates ever. Life were life no more 
 Were I to cease to poetise, to dream. 
 Wouldst thou forbid the cunning worm to spin, 
 For that to nearer death he spins himself ? 
 From his own being, he unfoldeth still 
 The costly texture, nor suspends his toil. 
 Till in his shroud he hath immured himself. 
 Oh, to us mortals may some gracious power 
 Accord the insect's enviable doom. 
 In some new sunny vale, with sudden joy. 
 To spread our eager pinions ! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 List to me ! 
 
 Thou givest still to others to enjoy 
 ^ , Life with a twofold relish. Learn thyself 
 '^ To know the worth of life, whose richest boon 
 
 In tenfold measure is bestowed on thee. 
 
 Now fare thee well ! The sooner thou returnest 
 
 All the more cordial will thy welcome be.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 213 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 TASSO {alone). 
 
 Hold fast, my heart, thy work has been well done ! 
 
 The task was arduous, for ne'er before 
 
 Didst thou or wish or venture to dissemble. 
 
 Ay, thou didst hear it, that was not his mind, 
 
 Nor his the words : to me it still appeared 
 
 As if I heard again Antonio's voice. 
 
 Only give heed ! Henceforth on every side 
 
 Thou'lt hear that voice. Be firm, my heart, be firm ! 
 
 'Tis only for a moment. He who learns 
 
 The trick of simulation late in life. 
 
 Doth outwardly the natural semblance wear 
 
 Of honest faith : practise, and thou'lt succeed. 
 
 {After a pause.) 
 Too soon thou triumphest, for lo ! she comes ! 
 The gentle princess comes ! Oh, what a feehng ! 
 She enters now : suspicion in my breast 
 And angry sullenness dissolve in grief. 
 
 Scene IV. — Princess, Tasso. {Toward the end of 
 the scene the others.) 
 
 princess. 
 
 Thou thinkest to forsake us, or remainest 
 Eather behind in Belriguardo, Tasso, 
 And then thou wilt withdraw thyself from us ? 
 I trust thine absence will not be for long. 
 To Eome thou goest ? 
 
 tasso. 
 
 Thither first I wend ; 
 And if, as I have reason to expect,
 
 214 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 I from my friends kind welcome there receive, 
 With care and patient toil I may, at length, 
 Impart its highest finish to my poem. 
 Full many men I find assembled there, 
 Masters who may be styled in every art. 
 Ay, and in that first city of the world, 
 Hath not each site, yea, every stone, a tongue ? 
 How many thousand silent monitors, 
 With earnest mien, majestic, beckon us ! 
 There if I fail to make my work complete, 
 I never shall complete it. Ah, I feel it — 
 Success doth wait on no attempt of mine ! 
 Still altering, I ne'er shall perfect it. 
 I feel, yea, deeply feel, the noble art 
 That quickens others, and does strength infuse 
 Into the healthy soul, will drive me forth, 
 And bring me to destruction. Forth I haste ! 
 I will to Naples first. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Darest thou venture ? 
 Still is the rigid sentence unrepealed 
 Which banished thee, together with thy father. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 I know the danger, and have pondered it. 
 Disguised I go, in tattered garb, perchance 
 Of shepherd or of pilgrim, meanly clad. 
 Unseen I wander through the city, where 
 The movements of the many shroud the one. 
 Then to the shore I hasten, find a bark. 
 With people of Sorrento, pleasant folk, 
 Keturning home from market ; for I too 
 Must hasten to Sorrento. There resides 
 My sister, ever to my parents' heart, 
 Together with myself, a mournful joy.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 215 
 
 T speak not in the bark ; I step ashore 
 Also in silence ; slowly I ascend 
 The upward path, and at the gate inquire, 
 Where may she dwell, Cornelia Sersale ? 
 With friendly mien, a woman at her wheel 
 Shows me the street, the house ; I hasten on ; 
 The children run beside me, and survey 
 The gloomy stranger with the shaggy locks. 
 Thus I approach the threshold. Open stands 
 The cottage door ; I step into the house — 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Oh, Tasso ! if 'tis possible, look up, 
 
 And see the danger that environs thee ! 
 
 I spare thy feelings, else I well might ask, 
 
 Is't noble, so to speak as now thou speakest ? 
 
 Is't noble of thyself alone to think. 
 
 As if thou didst not wound the heart of friends ? 
 
 My brother's sentiments, are they concealed ? 
 
 And how we sisters prize and honour thee, — 
 
 Hast thou not known and felt it ? Can it be, 
 
 That a few moments should have altered all ? 
 
 Oh, Tasso ! if thou wilt indeed depart. 
 
 Yet do not leave behind thee grief and care, 
 
 (Tasso turns away) 
 How soothing to the sorrowing heart to give. 
 To the dear friend who leaves us for a season, 
 Some trifling present, though 'twere nothing more 
 Than a new mantle, or a sword perchance ! 
 There's nought, alas ! that we can offer thee, 
 For thou ungraciously dost fling aside 
 E'en what thou hast. Thou choosest for thyself 
 The pilgrim's scallop-shell, his sombre weeds. 
 His staff to lean on, and departing thus. 
 In willing poverty, from us thou takest 
 The only pleasure we could share with thee.
 
 2i6 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Then, thou wilt not reject me utterly ? 
 Oh, precious words ! Oh, comfort dear and sweet ! 
 Do thou defend me ! Shield me with thy care ! — 
 Oh, send me to Consandoh, or here. 
 Keep me in Belriguardo, where thou wilt ! 
 The prince is lord of many a pleasant seat. 
 Of many a garden, which the whole year round 
 Is duly kept, whose paths ye scarcely tread 
 A single day, perchance but for an hour. 
 Then, choose among them all the most remote 
 Which through long years ye have not visited. 
 And which perchance e'en now untended lies. 
 Oh, send me thither ! There let me bo yours ! 
 And I will tend thy trees ; with screen and tile 
 Will shield thy citrons from autumnal blasts. 
 Fencing them round with interwoven reeds ; 
 Flowers of the fairest hue shall in the beds 
 Strike deep their spreading roots ; with nicest care 
 Each pathway, every corner, shall be kept : 
 And of the palace also give me charge ; 
 At proper times the windows I will open, 
 Lest noxious vapours should the pictures mar ; 
 The walls, with choicest stucco-work adorned, 
 I with light feather- work will free from dust ; 
 There shall the polished pavement brightly shine y 
 There shall no stone, no tiling, be misplaced ; 
 There shall no weeds sprout from the crevices I 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I find no counsel in my troubled breast. 
 And find no comfort for thyself and — us. 
 Around I look to see if some kind god 
 Will haply grant us succour, and reveal 
 Some healing plant, or potion, to restore 
 Peace to thy bewildered senses, peace to us ! 
 
 II
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 217 
 
 The truest word that floweth from the hp, 
 The surest remedy, hath lost its power. 
 Leave thee I must, — yet doth my heart refuse 
 From thee to part. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Ye gods ! And is it she ? 
 She who thus pities, who thus speaks with thee ? 
 And couldst thou e'er mistake that noble heart ? 
 And, in her presence, was it possible, 
 That thee despondency could seize, could master ? 
 No, no, 'tis thou ! I am myself again ! 
 Oh, speak once more ! Sweet comfort let me hear 
 Again from thy dear hps ! Speak, nor withdraw 
 Thy counsel from me. Say, what must I do, 
 That I may win the pardon of the prince. 
 That thou thyself mayst freely pardon me, 
 That ye may both with pleasure take me back 
 Into your princely service ? Speak to me. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 It is but little we require from thee, 
 And yet that little seemeth all too much. 
 Freely shouldst thou resign thyself to us. 
 "We wish not from thee aught but what thou art, 
 If only with thyself thou wert at peace. 
 When joy thou feelest, thou dost cause us joy ; 
 When thou dost fly from it, thou grievest us ; 
 And if sometimes we are impatient with thee, 
 'Tis only that we fain would succour thee. 
 And feel, alas ! our succour all in vain, 
 If thou the friendly hand forbear to grasp, 
 Stretched longingly, which yet doth reach thee not. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 'Tis thou thyself, a holy angel still, 
 
 As when at first thou didst appear to me !
 
 2i8 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The mortal's darkened vision, oh, forgive ! 
 
 If, while he gazed, he for a moment erred, 
 
 Now he again discerns thee ; and his soul 
 
 Aspires to honour thee eternally. 
 
 A flood of tenderness o'erwhelms my heart — 
 
 She stands before me ! She ! What feeling this ? 
 
 Is it distraction draws me unto thee ? 
 
 Or is it madness ? or a sense sublime 
 
 Which apprehends the purest, loftiest truth ? 
 
 Yes : 'tis the only feeling that on earth 
 
 Hath power to make and keep me truly blest, 
 
 Or that could overwhelm me with despair, 
 
 What time I wrestled with it, and resolved 
 
 To banish it for ever from my heart. 
 
 This fiery passion I had thought to quell, 
 
 Still with mine inmost being strove and strove, 
 
 And in the strife my very self destroyed, 
 
 Which is to thee indissolubly bound. 
 
 PEINCESS. 
 
 If thou wouldst have me, Tasso, listen to thee, 
 Eestrain this fervid glow, which frightens me. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Eestrains the goblet's rim the bubbhng wine 
 
 That sparkling foams, and overflows its bounds ? 
 
 Thine every word doth elevate my bliss. 
 
 With every word more brightly gleams thine eye, 
 
 Over my spirit's depths there comes a change : 
 
 Eelieved from dark perplexity, I feel 
 
 Free as a god ; and all I owe to thee ! 
 
 A charm unspeakable, which masters me, 
 
 Flows from thy lips. Thou makest me all thine. 
 
 Of my own being nought' belongs to me. 
 
 Mine eye grows dim in happiness and light, 
 
 My senses fail ; no more my foot sustains me :
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 219 
 
 Thou drawest me to thee with resistless might. 
 And my heart rushes self-impelled to thee. 
 Me hast thou won for all eternity, 
 Then take my whole of being to thyself. 
 
 {He throws himself into her arms, and clasps her to 
 his bosom.) 
 
 PKINCESS. . 
 {Throwing him from her, and retiring in haste.) 
 Away ! 
 
 LEONOKA. 
 
 {Who has for some time appeared in the background, 
 hastening forward.) 
 
 What hath befallen ? Tasso ! Tasso ! 
 
 (She follows the Pkincess.) 
 
 TASSO {about to follow her). 
 
 O God! 
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 (Who has for some time been approaching with 
 Antonio.) 
 
 He is distracted : hold him fast. 
 
 [Hxit 
 
 Scene V. — Tasso, Antonio. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 If that a foeman — as thou deem'st thyself 
 
 Environed by a multitude of foes — 
 
 Beside thee stood, how would he triumph now ! 
 
 Unhappy man ! I am not yet myself ! 
 
 When something quite unparallelled occurs, 
 
 When something monstrous first arrests our sight.
 
 2 20 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 The staggered spirit stands a moment still ; 
 For we know nothing to compare it with. 
 
 TASSO {after a long pause). 
 
 Fulfil thine office : I perceive 'tis thou ! 
 Ay, thou deservest the prince's confidence. 
 Fulfil thine office, since my doom is sealed : 
 With lingering tortures, torture me to death 1 
 Draw ! draw the shaft, that I may feel the barb 
 That lacerates, with cruel pangs, my heart ! 
 The tyrant's precious instrument art thou ; 
 Be thou his jailer — executioner — 
 For these are offices become thee well ! 
 
 {Toward the scene.') 
 Yes, tyrant, go ! Thou couldst not to the last 
 Thy wonted mask retain ; in triumph go ! 
 Thy slave thou hast well pinioned, hast reserved 
 For predetermined and protracted pangs ; 
 Yes, go ! I hate thee. In my heart I feel 
 The horror which despotic power excites. 
 When it is grasping, cruel, and unjust. 
 
 {After a pause) 
 Thus, then, at last, I see myself exiled, 
 Turned off, and thrust forth like a mendicant ! 
 Thus they with garlands wreathed me, but to lead 
 The victim to the shrine of sacrifice ! 
 Thus, at the very last, with cunning words, 
 They drew from me my only property. 
 My poem, — ay, and they retain it too ! 
 Now is my one possession in your hands, 
 My bright credential wheresoe'er I went, 
 My sole resource 'gainst biting poverty ! 
 Ay, now I see why I must take mine ease. 
 'Tis a conspiracy, and thou the head. 
 Thus that my song may not be perfected, 
 That my renown may ne'er be spread abroad,
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 221 
 
 That envy still a thousand faults may find, 
 And my unhonoured name forgotten die : 
 Therefore I must consent to idleness, 
 Therefore must spare my faculties, myself. 
 Oh, precious friendship ! Dear solicitude ! 
 Odious appeared the dark conspiracy 
 Which ceaseless round me wove its viewless web, 
 But still more odious does it now appear ! 
 
 And thou too, Siren ! who so tenderly 
 Didst lead me on with thy celestial mien, 
 Thee now I know ! Wherefore, God, so late ! 
 
 But we so wilhngly deceive ourselves, 
 
 We honour reprobates, who honour us. 
 
 True men are never to each other known : 
 
 Such knowledge is reserved for galley-slaves. 
 
 Chained to a narrow plank, who gasp for breath, 
 
 Where none hath aught to ask, nor aught to lose, 
 
 Where for a rascal each avows himself. 
 
 And holds his neighbour for a rascal too, — 
 
 Such men as these, perchance, may know each other. 
 
 But for the rest we courteously misjudge them. 
 
 Hoping they may misjudge us in return. 
 
 How long thine hallowed image from my gaze 
 Veiled the coquette, working with paltry arts! 
 The mask has fallen ! — Now I see Armida 
 Denuded of her charms — yes, thou art she. 
 Of whom my bodeful verse prophetic sang ! 
 
 And then the little, cunning go-between ! 
 With what profound contempt I view her now ! 
 I hear the rustling of her stealthy step. 
 As round me still she spreads her artful toils. 
 Ay, now I know you ! And let that suffice !
 
 22 2 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 And misery, though it beggar me of all, 
 
 I honour still, — for it hath taught me truth. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 I hear thee with amazement, though I know 
 How thy rash humour, Tasso, urges thee 
 To rush in haste to opposite extremes. 
 Collect thy spirit and command thy rage ! 
 Thou speakest slander, dost indulge in words 
 Which to thine anguish though they be forgiven, 
 Yet thou canst ne'er forgive unto thyself. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Oh, speak not to me with a gentle lip : 
 Let me not hear one prudent word from thee ! 
 Leave me my sullen happiness, that I 
 May not regain my senses, but to lose them. 
 My very bones are crushed, yet do I live ; — 
 Ay ! live to feel the agonising pain. 
 Despair infolds me in its ruthless grasp ; 
 And, in the hell-pang that annihilates. 
 These slanderous words are but a feeble cry 
 Wrung from the depth of my sore agony. 
 I will away ! If honest, point the path, 
 And suffer me at once to fly from hence. 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 In thine extremity I will not leave thee ; 
 And, shouldst thou wholly lose thy self-control. 
 My patience shall not fail. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And must I, then. 
 Yield myself up a prisoner to thee ? 
 Resigned I yield myself, and it is done :
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 2 2^ 
 
 I cease to struggle, and 'tis well with me. — 
 
 Now let mine anguished heart recall how fair 
 
 What, as in sport, I madly flung away. 
 
 They hence depart — God ! I there behold 
 
 The dust, ascending from their chariot-wheels — 
 
 The riders in advance — ay, there they go 
 
 E'en to the very place from whence I came ! 
 
 Now they are gone — they are estranged from me. 
 
 Oh that I once again had kissed his hand ! 
 
 Oh that I once again might say farewell ! 
 
 Once only might I falter, Oh, forgive ! 
 
 Once only hear the word, Go, thou'rt forgiven ! 
 
 Alas ! I hear it not : — I ne'er shall hear it — 
 
 Yes, I will go ! Let me but say farewell. 
 
 Only farewell ! Give me, oh, give me back 
 
 Their longed-for presence for a single moment ! 
 
 Perchance I might recover ! Never more ! 
 
 I am rejected, doomed to banishment ! 
 
 Xlas ! 1 am self-banished, never more 
 
 To hear that gentle voice, that tender glance 
 
 To meet no more — 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Yet hear the voice of one 
 Who, not without emotion, stands beside thee ! 
 Thou'rt not so wretched, Tasso, as thou thinkest. 
 Collect thyself ! Too much t hou^art unmanned. 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 And am I, then, as wretched as I seem ? 
 
 Am I as weak as I do show myself ? 
 
 Say, is all lost ? Has sorrow's direful stroke. 
 
 As with an earthquake's sudden shock, transformed 
 
 The stately pile into a ruined heap ? 
 
 Is all the genius flown that did erewhile 
 
 So richly charm, and so exalt my soul ? 
 
 Is all the power extinguished which of yore
 
 224 TORQUATO TASSO 
 
 Stirred in my bosom's depths ? Am I become 
 A nothing ? A mere nothing ? No : all's here 1 
 I have it still, and yet myself am nothing ! 
 I from myself am severed, she from me ! 
 
 ANTONIO. 
 
 Though to thyself thou seemest so forlorn, 
 Be calm, and bear in mind what still thou art ! 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 Ay, in due season thou remindest me ! — 
 Hath history no example for mine aid ? 
 Before me doth there rise no man of worth 
 Who more hath borne than I, that with his fate 
 Mine own comparing, I may gather strength ? 
 No : all is gone ! — but one thing still remains, — 
 Tears, balmy tears, kind nature has bestowed. 
 The cry of anguish, when the man at length 
 CaiTbeaFno more — yea, and to me beside, 
 She leaves in sorrow melody and speech. 
 To utter forth the fulness of my woe : 
 Though in their mortal anguish men are dumb, 
 To me a God hath given to tell my grief. 
 
 (Antonio approaches him, and takes his hand.) 
 Oh, noble man ! thou standest firm and calm. 
 While I am like the tempest-driven wave. 
 But be not boastful of thy strength. Reflect ! 
 Nature, whose mighty power hath fixed the rock, 
 Gives to the wave its instability. 
 She sends her storm, the passive wave is driven. 
 And rolls and swells and falls in billowy foam. 
 Yet in this very wave the glorious sun 
 Mirrors his splendour, and the quiet stars 
 Upon its heaving bosom gently rest. 
 Dimmed is the splendour, vanished is the calm ! — 
 In danger's hour I know myself no longer,
 
 fj
 
 Tasso in Disgrace 
 
 Photogravure from the painting by Giametti
 
 TORQUATO TASSO 225 
 
 Nor am I now ashamed of the confession. 
 The helm is broken, and on every side 
 The reehng vessel sphts. The riven planks, 
 Bursting asunder, yawn beneath my feet ! 
 Thus with my outstretched arms I cling to thee ! 
 So doth the shipwrecked mariner at last 
 Cling to the rock whereon his vessel struck.
 
 Goetz von Berlichingen 
 
 With the Iron Hand 
 
 A Drama 
 
 Translated by Sir Walter Scott 
 
 This drama was written in 1771 ; but it was not publislied luitil 
 1773, diu'ing wLiicli interval it underwent considerable alterations. 
 It was the first work which Goethe submitted to the public ; and 
 it at once excited great attention, both on account of the origi- 
 nality of the subject, and of the vigorous and unconventional man- 
 ner in which it was worked out.
 
 Translator's Preface 
 
 GoETZ VON Beelichingen, the hero of the following 
 drama, flourished in the fifteenth century, during the 
 reign of Maximilian the First, Emperor of Germany. 
 Previous to this period, every German noble holding a 
 fief immediately from the emperor, exercised on his 
 estate a species of sovereignty subordinate to the im- 
 perial authority alone. Thus, from the princes and 
 prelates possessed of extensive territories, down to the 
 free knights and barons, whose domains consisted of a 
 castle and a few acres of mountain and forest ground, 
 each was a petty monarch upon his own property, inde- 
 pendent of all control but the remote supremacy of the 
 emperor. 
 
 Among the extensive rights conferred by such a con- 
 stitution, that of waging war against each other, by 
 their own private authority, was most precious to a 
 race of proud and mihtary barons. These private wars 
 were called feuds, and the privilege of carrying them on 
 was named Faustredi t (^club-law). As the empire ad- 
 vanced in civihsation, the evils attending feuds became 
 dreadfully conspicuous : each petty knight was by law 
 entitled to make war upon his neighbours without any 
 further ceremony than three days' previous defiance by 
 a written form called Fehdehrief. Even the Golden 
 Bull, which remedied so many evils in the Germanic 
 body, left this dangerous privilege in full vigour. In 
 time the residence of every free baron became a fortress, 
 from which, as his passions or avarice dictated, sallied 
 a band of marauders to back his quarrel, or to collect 
 an extorted revenue from the merchants who presumed
 
 230 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 to pass through his domain. At length whole bands 
 of these freebooting nobles used to league together for 
 the purpose of mutual defence against their more power- 
 ful neighbours, as likewise for that of predatory excur- 
 sions against the princes, free towns, and ecclesiastic 
 states of the empire, whose wealth tempted the needy- 
 barons to exercise against them their privilege of wag- 
 ing private war. These confederacies were distinguished 
 by various titles expressive of their object : we find 
 among them the Brotherhood of the Mace, the Knights 
 of the Bloody Sleeve, etc. If one of the brotherhood 
 was attacked, the rest marched without delay to his 
 assistance ; and thus, though individually weak, the 
 petty feudatories maintained their ground against the 
 more powerful members of the empire. Their inde- 
 pendence and privileges were recognised and secured 
 to them by many edicts ; and though hated and oc- 
 casionally oppressed by the princes and ecclesiastical 
 authorities, to whom in return they were a scourge and 
 a pest, they continued to maintain tenaciously the good 
 old privilege (as they termed it) of Faustrecht, which 
 they had inherited from their fathers. Amid the ob- 
 vious mischiefs attending such a state of society, it 
 must be allowed that it is frequently the means of 
 calling into exercise the highest heroic virtues. Men 
 daily exposed to danger, and hving by the constant 
 exertion of their courage, acquired the virtues as well 
 as the vices of a savage state ; and among many in- 
 stances of cruelty and rapine, occur not a few of the 
 most exalted valour and generosity. If the fortress of 
 a German knight was the dread of the wealthy mer- 
 chant and abbot, it was often the ready and hospitable 
 refuge of the weary pilgrim and oppressed peasant. 
 Although the owner subsisted by the plunder of the 
 rich, yet he was frequently beneficent to the poor, and 
 beloved by his own family dependents and allies. The 
 spirit of chivalry doubtless contributed much to soften
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 231 
 
 the character of these marauding nobles. A respect 
 for themselves taught them generosity toward their 
 prisoners, and certain acknowledged rules prevented 
 many of the atrocities which it might have been ex- 
 pected would have marked these feuds. No German 
 noble, for example, if made captive, was confined in 
 fetters or in a dungeon, but remained a prisoner at 
 large upon his parole (which was called knightly ward), 
 either in the castle of his conqueror, or in some other 
 place assigned to him. The same species of honourable 
 captivity was often indulged by the emperor to of- 
 fenders of a noble rank, of which some instances will 
 be found in the following pages. 
 
 Such was the state of the German nobles, when, on 
 the 7th_of_AugustJ495*.was published the memorable 
 edict of Maximihan for the estabhshment of the pubhc 
 peace of t he empire . By this ordinance, the right of 
 private war was totally abrogated, under the penalty 
 of the Ban of the empire, to be enforced by the Im- 
 perial Chamber then instituted. This was at once a 
 sentence of anathema secular and spiritual, containing 
 the dooms of outlawry and excommunication. This 
 ordinance was highly acceptable to the princes, bishops, 
 and free towns, who had Httle to gain and much to 
 lose in these perpetual feuds ; and they combined to 
 enforce it with no small severity against the petty 
 feudatories : these, on the other hand, sensible that the 
 very root of their importance consisted in their privi- 
 lege of declaring private war, without which they fore- 
 saw they would not long be able to maintain their 
 independence, struggled hard against the execution of 
 this edict, by which their confederacies were declared 
 unlawful, and all means taken from them of resisting 
 their richer neighbours. 
 
 Upon the jarring interests of the princes and clergy 
 on the one hand, and of the free knights and petty im- 
 perial feudatories on the other, arise the incidents of
 
 232 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 the following drama. The hero, Goetz von Berlich- 
 ingen, was in reality a zealous champion for the priv- 
 ileges of the free knights, and was repeatedly laid 
 under the Ban of the empire for the feuds in which he 
 was engaged, from which he was only released in con- 
 sequence of high reputation for gallantry and gener- 
 osity. His life was published at Nuremberg, 1731 ; 
 and some account of his exploits, with a declaration of 
 feud {Fehdebrief) issued by him against that city, will 
 be found in Meusel's " Inquiry into History," vol. iv. 
 
 While the princes and free knights were thus banded 
 against each other, the peasants and bondsmen remained 
 in the most abject state of ignorance and oppression. 
 This occasioned at different times the most desperate 
 insurrections, resembling in their nature, and in the 
 atrocities committed by the furious insurgents, the re- 
 bellions of Tyler and Cade in England, or that of 
 the Jacquerie in France. Such an event occurs in the 
 following tragedy. There is also a scene founded upon 
 the noted institution called the Secret or Invisible 
 Tribunal. With this extraordinary judicatory, the 
 members and executioners of which were unknown, 
 and met in secret to doom to death those criminals 
 whom other courts of justice could not reach, the 
 English reader has been made acquainted by several 
 translations from the German, particularly the excel- 
 lent romances called " Herman of Unna," and " Alf 
 von Duilman." 
 
 The following drama was written by the elegant 
 author of the " Sorrows of Werther," in imitation, it is 
 said, of the manner of Shakespeare. This resemblance 
 is not to be looked for in the style or expression, but 
 in the outline of the characters, and mode of conduct- 
 ing the incidents of the piece. In Germany it is the 
 object of enthusiastic admiration, partly owing doubt- 
 less to the force of national partiality toward a per- 
 formance in which the ancient manners of the country
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 233 
 
 are faithfully and forcibly painted. Losing, however, 
 this advantage, and under all the defects of a trans- 
 lation, the translator ventures to hope, that, in the fol- 
 lowing pages, there will still be found something to 
 excite interest. Some hberties have been taken with 
 the original, in omitting two occasional disquisitions 
 upon the civil law as practised in Germany.^ Literal 
 accuracy has been less studied in the translation, than 
 an attempt to convey the spirit and general effect of 
 the piece. Upon the whole, it is hoped the version 
 will be found faithful ; of which the translator is less 
 distrustful, owing to the friendship of a gentleman of 
 high hterary eminence, who has obhgingly taken the 
 trouble of superintending the publication. 
 
 Waltee Scott. 
 
 Edinburgh, 3d February, 1799. 
 
 1 In the present revision tliese omitted portions are restored, 
 whilst a few corrections have been made with a view to greater 
 literalness. — Ed.
 
 Dramatis Personae 
 
 Maximilian, Emperor of Germany. 
 
 GoETZ VON Berlichingen, a free knight of the empire. 
 
 Elizabeth, his wife. 
 
 Maria, his sister. 
 
 Charles, his son, — a boy. 
 
 George, his page. 
 
 Bishop of Bamberg. 
 
 Adelbert von Weislingen, a free German knight of the 
 
 empire. 
 Adelaide von Walldorf, widow of the Count von Wall- 
 
 DORF. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT, a courtier of the Bishop's. 
 
 Abbot of Fulda, residing at the Bishop's court. 
 
 Olearius, a doctor of laws. 
 
 Brother Martin, a monk. 
 
 Hans von Selbitz, ) Free knights, in alliance with 
 
 Franz von Sickingen, | Goetz. 
 
 Lerse, a trooper. 
 
 Francis, esquire to Weislingen. 
 
 Female attendant on Adelaide. 
 
 President, Accuser, and Avenger of the Secret Tribunal. 
 
 Metzler,^ 
 
 Sievers, I 
 
 Link, y Leaders of the insurgent peasantry. 
 
 Kohl, I 
 
 Wild, J 
 
 Imperial Commissioners. 
 
 Two Merchants of Nuremberg. 
 
 Magistrates of Heilbronn. 
 
 Maximilian Stumf, a vassal of the Palsgrave. 
 
 An unknown. 
 
 Bride's father, y 
 
 Bride, v Peasants. 
 
 Bridegroom, ) 
 
 Gipsy captain. 
 
 Gipsy mother and women. 
 
 Sticks and Wolf, gipsies. 
 
 Imperial captain. 
 
 Imperial officers. 
 
 Innkeeper. 
 
 Sentinel. 
 
 Serge an t -at -arms. 
 
 Imperial soldiers — Troopers belonging to Goetz, to Selbitz, 
 to Sickingen, and to Weislingen — Peasants — Gipsies — 
 Judges of the Secret Tribunal — Jailers — Courtiers, etc. 
 
 234
 
 Goetz von Berlichingen 
 
 With the Iron Hand 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — An Inn at Schwarzenherg in Franconia. 
 
 Metzler and Sievers, two Swabian 'peasants, are 
 seated at a table. At the fire, at some distance from, 
 them, two troopers from Bamherg. Hie Innkeeper. 
 
 Sievers. Hansel ! Another cup of brandy — and 
 Christian measure. 
 
 Innkeeper. Thou art a Never-enough.* ^«Vi8fi^ > 
 
 Metzler {apart to Sievers). Repeat that again 
 about Berhchingen. — The Bambergers, there, are so 
 angry they are almost black in the face. 
 
 Sievers. Bambergers ! — What are they about 
 here ? 
 
 Metzler. Weislingen has been two days up yonder 
 at the castle with the earl — they are his attendants 
 — they came with him, I know not whence. They 
 are waiting for him — He is going back to Bam- 
 berg. 
 
 Sievers. Who is that Weislingen ? 
 
 Metzler. The Bishop of Bamberg's right hand ! a 
 powerful lord, who is lying in wait to play Goetz some 
 trick. 
 
 Sievers. He had better take care of himself. 
 
 235
 
 236 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Metzler (aside). Prithee go on ! {Aloud.) How 
 long is it since Goetz had a new dispute with the 
 bishop ? I thought all had been agreed and squared 
 between them. 
 
 SiEVERS. Ay ! Agreement with priests ! — When 
 the bishop saw he could do no good, and always got 
 the worst of it, he pulled in his horns, and made haste 
 to patch up a truce — and honest Berlichingen yielded 
 to an absurd extent, as he always does when he has 
 the advantage. 
 
 Metzler. God bless him ! a worthy nobleman. 
 
 SiEVERS. Only think ! "Was it not shameful ? 
 They fell upon a page of his, to his no small surprise ; 
 but they will soon be mauled for that." 
 
 Metzler. How provoking that his last stroke 
 should have missed. He must have been plaguily 
 annoyed. 
 
 SiEVERS. I don't think anything has vexed him so 
 much for a long time. Look you, all had been calcu- 
 lated to a nicety : the time the bishop would come 
 from the bath, with how many attendants, and which 
 road ; and, had it not been betrayed by some traitor, 
 Goetz would have blessed his bath for him, and rubbed 
 him dry. 
 
 First Trooper. What are you prating there about 
 our bishop ? do you want to pick a quarrel ? 
 
 SiEVERS. Mind your own affairs : you have nothing 
 to do with our table. 
 
 Second Trooper. Who taught you to speak dis- 
 respectfully of our bishop ? 
 
 SiEVERS, Am I bound to answer your questions? 
 — Look at the fool ! 
 
 [IVte first Trooper hoxes his ears. 
 
 Metzler. Smash the rascal ! 
 
 [ They attach each other. 
 
 Second Trooper {to Metzler). Come on if you 
 dare —
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 237 
 
 Innkeeper [separating them). Will you be quiet 1 
 Zounds ! - Take yourself off if you have any scores to 
 settle : in my house I will have order and decency. 
 {He pushes the Troopers out of doors) — And what 
 are you about, you jackasses ? 
 
 Metzler. No bad names, Hansel! or your sconce 
 shall pay for it. Come, comrade, we'll go and thrash 
 those blackguards. 
 
 Enter two of Berlichingen's Troopers. 
 
 First Trooper. What's the matter ? 
 
 Sievers. Ah ! Good day, Peter ! — Good day, Veit ! 
 
 — Whence come you ? 
 
 Second Trooper. Mind you don't let out whom 
 we serve. 
 
 Sievers {whispering). Then, your master Goetz 
 isn't far off ? 
 
 First Trooper. Hold your tongue ! — Have you 
 had a quarrel ? 
 
 Sievers. You must have met the fellows without 
 
 — they are Bambergers. 
 
 First Trooper. What brings them here ? 
 
 Sievers. They escort Weislingen, who is up yon- 
 der at the castle with the earl. 
 
 First Trooper. Weislingen ! 
 
 Second Trooper {aside to his companion). Peter, 
 that is grist to our mill — How long has he been 
 here? 
 
 Metzler. Two days; but he is off to-day, as I 
 heard one of his fellows say. 
 
 First Trooper {aside). Did I not tell you he was 
 here ? — We might have waited yonder long enough 
 
 — Come, Veit — 
 
 Sievers. Help us first to drub the Bambergers. 
 Second Trooper. There are already two of you — 
 We must away — Farewell ! \_Exeunt loth Troopers.
 
 238 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 SiEVEKS. Scurvy dogs, these troopers ! They won't 
 strike a blow without pay. 
 
 Metzler. I could swear they have something in 
 hand. — Whom do they serve ? 
 
 SiEVERS. I am not to tell — They serve Goetz. 
 
 Metzler. So ! — Well, now we'll cudgel those 
 fellows outside — While I have a quarter-staff I care 
 not for their spits. 
 
 SiEVERS. If we durst but once serve the princes in 
 the same manner, who drag our skins over our ears ! 
 
 [Uxeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Cottage in a thick Forest. 
 
 Goetz von Berlichingen discovered walking among tlie 
 trees before the door. 
 
 Goetz. Where hnger my servants ? — I must walk 
 up and down, or sleep will overcome me — Five days 
 and nights already on the watch — It is hardly 
 earned, this bit of life and freedom. But when I have 
 caught thee, Weislingen, I shall take my ease. {Fills 
 a glass of wine, and drinks ; looks at the flask.) — 
 Again empty. — George ! — While this and my cour- 
 age last, I can laugh at the ambition and chicanery 
 of princes ! — George ! — You may send round your 
 obsequious Weislingen to your uncles and cousins 
 to calumniate my character — Be it so — I am on 
 the alert. — Thou hast escaped me, bishop : then thy 
 dear Weislingen shall pay the score. — George ! — 
 Doesn't the boy hear ? — George ! George ! 
 
 George {entering in the cuirass of a full-grown man). 
 Worshipful sir. 
 
 Goetz. What kept you ? Were you asleep ? — 
 What in the Devil's name means this masquerade ? — 
 Come hither : you don't look amiss. Be not ashamed.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 239 
 
 boy ; you look bravely. Ah. ! if you could but fill it ! 
 — Is it Hans' cuirass ? 
 
 George. He wished to sleep a httle, and unbuck- 
 led it. 
 
 GoETZ. He takes things easier than his master. 
 
 George. Do not be angry ! I took it quietly away 
 and put it on, then fetched my father's old sword from 
 the wall, ran to the meadow, and drew it — 
 
 Goetz. And laid about you, no doubt ? — Rare 
 times for the brambles and thorns ! — Is Hans 
 asleep ? 
 
 George. He started up and cried out to me when 
 you called — I was trying to unbuckle the cuirass 
 when I heard you twice or thrice. 
 
 Goetz. Go take back his cuirass, and teU him to 
 be ready with his horses. 
 
 George. I have fed them weU, and they are ready 
 bridled : you may mount when you will. 
 
 Goetz. Bring me a stoup of wine. Give Hans a 
 glass too, and tell him to be on the alert — there is 
 good cause: I expect the return of my scouts every 
 moment. 
 
 George. Ah ! noble sir ! 
 
 Goetz. What's the matter ? 
 
 George. May I not go with you ? 
 
 Goetz. Another time, George — when we waylay 
 merchants and seize their wagons — 
 
 George. Another time ! — You have said that so 
 often. — Oh, this time, this time ! I wiU only skulk 
 behind ; just keep on the lookout — I will gather up 
 all the spent arrows for you. 
 
 Goetz. Next time, George ! — You must first have 
 a doublet, a steel cap, and a lance. 
 
 George. Take me with you now ! — Had I been 
 with you last time, you would not have lost your cross- 
 bow. 
 
 Goetz. Do you know about that ?
 
 240 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 George. You threw it at your antagonist's head : 
 one of his followers picked it up, and off with it he 
 went. Don't I know about it ? 
 
 GoETZ. Did my people tell you ? 
 
 George. Oh, yes ! and for that, I whistle them all 
 sorts of tunes while we dress the horses, and teach 
 them merry songs too. 
 
 GoETZ. Thou art a brave boy. 
 
 George. Take me with you to prove myself so. 
 
 GoETZ. The next time, I promise you ! You must 
 not go to battle unarmed as you are. There is a time 
 coming which will also require men. I tell thee, boy, 
 it will be a dear time. Princes shall offer their treas- 
 ures for a man whom they now hate. Go, George, give 
 Hans his cuirass again, and bring me wine. {Exit 
 George.) Where can my people be ? It is incompre- 
 hensible ! — A monk ! What brings him here so late ? 
 
 Enter Brother Martin. 
 
 GoETZ. Good evening, reverend father ! Whence 
 come you so late ? Man of holy rest, thou shamest 
 many knights. 
 
 Martin. Thanks, noble sir ! I am at present but 
 an unworthy brother, if we come to titles. My cloister 
 name is Augustin ; but I Hke better to be called by my 
 Christian name, Martin. 
 
 GoETZ. You are tired, Brother Martin, and doubtless 
 thirsty. 
 
 Enter George with win^. > 
 
 GoETZ. Here, in good time, comes wine. 
 
 Martin. For me a draught of water. I dare not 
 drink wine. 
 
 GoETZ. Is it against your vow ? 
 
 Martin. Noble sir, to drinh wine is not against my 
 vow ; but because wine is against my vow, therefore I 
 drink it not.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 241 
 
 GoETZ. How am I to understand that ? 
 
 Martin. 'Tis well for thee that thou dost not 
 understand it. Eating and drinking nourish man's 
 life. 
 
 GoETz. Well ! 
 
 Maetin. When thou hast eaten and drunken, thou 
 art, as it were, new born, stronger, bolder, fitter for 
 action. Wine rejoices the heart of man, and joyous- 
 ness is the mother of every virtue. When thou hast 
 drunk wine, thou art double what thou shouldst be ! 
 twice as ingenious, twice as enterprising, and twice as 
 active. 
 
 GoETZ. As I drink it, what you say is true. 
 
 Martin. 'Tis when thus taken in moderation that 
 I speak of it. But we — [George hrings water. 
 
 GoETZ {aside to George). Go to the road which 
 leads to Daxbach : lay thine ear close to the earth, and 
 listen for the tread of horses. Eeturn immediately. 
 
 Mabtin. But we, on the other hand, when we have 
 eaten and drunken, are the reverse of what we should 
 be. Our sluggish digestion depresses our mental pow- 
 ers ; and, in the indulgence of luxurious ease, desires 
 are generated which grow too strong for our weak- 
 ness. 
 
 Goetz. One glass. Brother Martin, will not -disturb 
 your sleep. You have travelled far to-day. (^Raises 
 his glass.^ Here's to all fighting-men ! 
 
 Martin. With all my heart. {They ring their 
 glasses.) I cannot abide idle people — yet will I not say 
 that all monks are idle ; they do what they can : I am 
 just come from St. Bede, where I slept last night. The 
 prior took me into the garden : that is their hive. Ex- 
 cellent salad, cabbages in perfection, and such cauli- 
 flowers and artichokes as you will hardly find in Europe. 
 
 Goetz. So that is not the life for you ? 
 
 [^Goes out, and looks anxiously after the hoy. Returns. 
 
 Martin. Would that God had made me a gardener
 
 242 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 or day-labourer ! I might then have been happy ! My 
 convent is Erfurt in Saxony : my abbot loves me ; he 
 knows I cannot remain idle ; and so he sends me round 
 the country, w^herever there is business to be done. I 
 am on my way to the Bishop of Constance. 
 
 GoETZ. Another glass. Good speed to you ! 
 
 Maktin. The same to you. 
 
 GoETZ. Why do you look at me so steadfastly, 
 brother ? 
 
 Martin. I am in love with your armour. 
 
 GoETZ. Would you like a suit ? It is heavy and 
 toilsome to the wearer. 
 
 Martin. What is not toilsome in this world ? — 
 But to me nothing is so much so as to renounce my 
 very nature ! Poverty, chastity, obedience, — three 
 vows, each of which taken singly seems the most 
 dreadful to humanity — so insupportable are they all ; 
 — and to spend a lifetime under this burden, or to 
 groan despairingly under the still heavier load of an 
 evil conscience — Ah ! Sir Knight, what are the toils 
 of your life compared to the sorrows of a state, which, 
 from a mistaken desire of drawing nearer to the Deity, 
 condemns as crimes the best impulses of our nature, — 
 impulses by which we hve, grow, and prosper ! 
 
 GoETZ. Were your vow less sacred, I would give 
 you a suit of armour and a steed, and we would ride 
 out together. 
 
 Martin. Would to Heaven my shoulders had 
 strength to bear armour, and my arm to unhorse an 
 enemy ! Poor, weak hand, accustomed from infancy 
 to swing censers, to bear crosses and banners of peace, 
 how couldst thou manage the lance and falchion ? My 
 voice, tuned only to Aves and Hallelujahs, would be a 
 herald of my weakness to the enemy ; while yours would 
 overpower him : otherwise no vows should keep me 
 from entering an order founded by the Creator himself. 
 
 Goetz. To your happy return ! [Drinks.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 243 
 
 Martin. I drink that only in compliment to you ! 
 A return to my prison must ever be unhappy. When 
 you, Sir Knight, return to your castle, with the con- 
 sciousness of your courage and strength, which no 
 fatigue can overcome ; when you, for the first time, after 
 a long absence, stretch yourself unarmed upon your 
 bed, secure from the attack of enemies, and resign 
 yourself to a sleep sweeter than the draught after a 
 long thirst, — then can you speak of happiness. 
 . GoETZ. And accordingly it comes but seldom ! 
 
 Martin {ivith growing ardour). But, when it 
 does come, it is a foretaste of paradise. When you 
 return home laden with the spoils of your enemies, and 
 remember, " Such a one I struck from his horse ere he 
 could discharge his piece — such another I overthrew, 
 horse and man," then you ride to your castle, and — 
 
 GoETZ. And what ? 
 
 Martin. And your wife — [Fills a glass) To her 
 health ! {He wipes his eyes) You have one ? 
 
 GoETZ. A virtuous, noble wife ! 
 
 Martin. Happy the man who possesses a virtuous 
 wife : his life is doubled. This blessing was denied 
 me, yet was woman the glory or crown of creation. 
 
 GoETZ (aside). I grieve for him. The sense of his 
 condition preys upon his heart. 
 
 Enter George, breathless. 
 
 George, My lord, my lord, I hear horses in full 
 gallop ! — two of them — 'Tis they for certain. 
 
 GoETZ. Bring out my steed : let Hans mount. 
 Farewell, dear brother, God be with you. Be cheerful 
 and patient. He will give you ample scope. 
 
 Martin. Let me request your name. 
 
 GoETZ. Pardon me — Farewell ! 
 
 [Gives his left hand. 
 
 Martin. Why do you give the left? — Am I un- 
 worthy of the knightly right hand ?
 
 2 44 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 GoETZ. Were you the emperor, you must be satis- 
 fied with this. My right hand, though not useless in 
 combat, is unresponsive to the grasp of affection. It is 
 one with its mailed gauntlet — You see, it is iron ! 
 
 Martin. Then art thou Goetz of Berlichingen. I 
 thank thee, Heaven, who hast shown me the man whom 
 princes hate, but to whom the oppressed throng ! (He 
 takes Ms right hand) Withdraw not this hand : let 
 me kiss it. 
 
 Goetz. You must not ! 
 
 Martin. Let me, let me — Thou hand, more worthy 
 even than the saintly rehc through which the most 
 sacred blood has flowed ! lifeless instrument, quickened 
 by the noblest spirit's faith in God. 
 
 [Goetz adjusts his helmet, and takes his lance. 
 
 Martin. There was a monk among us about a year 
 ago, who visited you when your hand was shot off at 
 the siege of Landshut. He used to tell us what you 
 suffered, and your grief at being disabled for your pro- 
 fession of arms, till you remembered having heard one 
 who had also lost a hand, and yet served long as a gal- 
 lant knight — I shall never forget it. 
 
 Enter the two Troopers. Tliey speak apart with 
 Goetz. 
 
 Martin (continuing). I shall never forget his 
 words, uttered in the noblest, the most childlike, 
 trust in God : " If I had twelve hands, what would 
 they avail me without thy grace ? then may I with 
 only one — " 
 
 Goetz. In the wood of Haslach, then. (Turns to 
 Martin.) Farewell, worthy brother ! [Embraces him. 
 
 Martin. Forget me not, as I never shall forget 
 thee ! [Exeunt Goetz and his Troopers. 
 
 Martin. How my heart beat at the sight of him ! 
 He spoke not, yet my spirit recognised his. What rap- 
 ture to behold a great man !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 245 
 
 George. Eeverend sir, you will sleep here ? 
 
 Martin. Can I have a bed ? 
 
 George. No, sir ! I know of beds only by hearsay : 
 in our quarters there is nothing but straw. 
 
 Martin. It will serve. What is thy name ? 
 
 George. George, reverend sir. 
 
 Martin. George! Thou hast a gallant patron 
 saint. 
 
 George. They say he was a trooper : that is what 
 I intend to be. 
 
 Martin. Stop. {Takes a picture from his hreviary, 
 and gives it to him.) There behold him — follow his 
 example ; be brave, and fear God. 
 
 l^Exit into the cottage. 
 
 George. Ah ! what a splendid gray horse ! If I 
 had but one like that — and the golden armour. 
 There is an ugly dragon. At present I shoot nothing 
 but sparrows. St. George ! make me but tall and 
 strong ; give me a lance, armour, and such a horse, and 
 then let the dragons come ! [Exit 
 
 Scene III. — An Apartment in Jaxthausen, the Castle 
 of Goetz von Berlichingen. 
 
 Elizabeth, Maria, and Charles discovered. 
 
 Charles. Pray, now, dear aunt, tell me again that 
 story about the good child : it is so pretty — 
 
 Maria. Do you tell it to me, little rogue ! that I 
 may see if you have paid attention. 
 
 Charles. Wait, then, till I think. — " There was 
 once upon " — Yes — " There was once upon a time 
 a child, and his mother was sick : so the child went 
 
 Maria. No, no ! — " Then his mother said, ' Dear 
 child — ' "
 
 246 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Chakles. " ' I am sick — ' " 
 
 Maria, " ' And cannot go out — ' " 
 
 Charles. " And gave him money, and said, ' Go 
 and buy yourself a breakfast,' There came a poor 
 man — " 
 
 Maria. " The child went. There met him an old 
 man who was " — Now, Charles ! 
 
 Charles. " Who was — old — " 
 
 Maria. Of course. " Who was hardly able to 
 walk, and said, ' Dear child — ' " 
 
 Charles. " ' Give me something : I have eaten not 
 a morsel yesterday or to-day.' Then the child gave 
 him the money — " 
 
 Maria. " That should have bought his break- 
 fast — " 
 
 Charles. " Then the old man said — " 
 
 Maria. " Then the old man took the child by the 
 hand — " 
 
 Charles. " By the hand, and said — and became a 
 fine beautiful saint — and said — ' Dear child — ' " 
 
 Maria. " ' The Holy Virgin rewards thee for thy 
 benevolence through me ; whatever sick person thou 
 touchest — ' " 
 
 Charles. " ' With thy hand '" — It was the right 
 hand, I think. 
 
 Maria. Yes. 
 
 Charles. " ' He will get well directly — ' " 
 
 Maria. " Then the child ran home, and could not 
 speak for joy — " 
 
 Charles. " And fell upon his mother's neck, and 
 wept for joy — " 
 
 Maria, " Then the mother cried, ' What is this ? ' 
 and became " — Now, Charles. 
 
 Charles. " Became — became — " 
 
 Maria. You do not attend — " and became well. 
 And the child cured kings and emperors, and became 
 so rich that he built a great abbey,"
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 247 
 
 Elizabeth. I cannot understand why my husband 
 stays. He has been away five days and nights, and he 
 hoped to have finished his adventure so quickly. 
 
 Maria. I have long felt uneasy. Were I married 
 to a man who continually incurred such danger, I 
 should die within the first year. 
 
 Elizabeth. I thank God that he has made me of 
 firmer stuff ! 
 
 Charles. But must my father ride out if it is so 
 dangerous ? 
 
 Maria. Such is his good pleasure. 
 
 Elizabeth. He must, indeed, dear Charles ! 
 
 Charles. Why ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Do you not remember the last time he 
 rode out, when he brought you those nice things ? 
 
 Charles. Will he bring me anything now ? 
 
 Elizabeth. I believe so. Listen : there was a 
 tailor at Stutgard who was a capital archer, and had 
 gained the prize at Cologne. 
 
 Charles. Was it much ? 
 
 Elizabeth. A hundred dollars ; and afterward they 
 would not pay him. 
 
 Maria. That was naughty, eh, Charles ? 
 
 Charles. Naughty people ! 
 
 Elizabeth. The tailor came to your father, and 
 begged him to get his money for him: then your 
 father rode out, and intercepted a party of merchants 
 from Cologne, and kept them prisoners till they paid 
 the money. Would not you have ridden out too ? 
 
 Charles. No ; for one must go through a dark, 
 thick wood, where there are gipsies and witches — 
 
 Elizabeth. You're a fine fellow ; afraid of witches ! 
 
 Maria. Charles, it is far better to live at home in 
 your castle, hke a quiet Christian knight. One may 
 find opportunities enough of doing good on one's own 
 lands. Even the worthiest knights do more harm than 
 good in their excursions.
 
 248 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Elizabeth. Sister, you know not what you are 
 saying. — God grant our boy may become braver as he 
 grows up, and not take after that Weislingen, who has 
 dealt so faithlessly with my husband. 
 
 Maria. We will not judge, Elizabeth. My brother 
 is highly incensed, and so are you : I am only a spec- 
 tator in the matter, and can be more impartial. 
 
 Elizabeth. Weishngen cannot be defended. 
 
 Maria. What I have heard of him has interested 
 me. — Even your husband relates many instances of 
 his former goodness and affection. — How happy was 
 their youth when they were both pages of honour to 
 the margrave! 
 
 Elizabeth. That may be. But only tell me, how 
 can a man ever have been good who lays snares for his 
 best and truest friend ? who has sold his services to 
 the enemies of my husband ; and who strives, by in- 
 vidious misrepresentations, to poison the mind of our 
 noble emperor, who is so gracious to us ? 
 
 [A horn is heard. 
 
 Charles. Papa ! papa ! the warder sounds his 
 horn ! Joy ! joy ! Open the gate ! 
 
 Elizabeth. There he comes with booty ! 
 
 Unter Peter. 
 
 Peter. We have fought — we have conquered ! 
 God save you, noble ladies! 
 
 Elizabeth. Have you captured Weislingen ? 
 
 Peter. Himself and three followers. 
 
 Elizabeth. How came you to stay so long ? 
 
 Peter. We lay in wait for him between Nurem- 
 berg and Bamberg ; but he would not come, though 
 we knew he had set out. At length we heard of his 
 whereabouts : he had struck off sideways, and was 
 staying quietly with the earl at Schwarzenberg. 
 
 Elizabeth. They would also fain make the earl 
 my husband's enemy.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 249 
 
 Peter. I immediately told my master. — Up and 
 away we rode into the forest of Haslach. And it was 
 curious, that, while we were riding along that night, a 
 shepherd was watching ; and five wolves fell upon the 
 flock, and attacked them stoutly. Then my master 
 laughed and said, " Good luck to us all, dear comrades, 
 both to you and us ! " And the good omen overjoyed 
 us. Just then Weislingen came riding toward us with 
 four attendants — 
 
 Maria. How my heart beats ! 
 
 Peter, My comrade and I, as our master had com- 
 manded, threw ourselves suddenly on him, and clung 
 to him as if we had grown together, so that he could 
 not move ; while my master and Hans fell upon the 
 servants, and overpowered them. They were all taken, 
 except one who escaped. 
 
 Elizabeth. I am curious to see him. Will he 
 arrive soon ? 
 
 Peter. They are riding through the valley, and 
 will be here in a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Maria. He is, no doubt, cast down and de- 
 jected ? 
 
 Peter. He looks gloomy enough. 
 
 Maria. It will grieve me to see his distress ! 
 
 Elizabeth. Oh ! I must get food ready. You are, 
 no doubt, all hungry ? 
 
 Peter. Hungry enough, in truth. 
 
 Elizabeth (to Maria). Take the cellar-keys, and 
 bring the best wine. They have deserved it. 
 
 [Uxit Elizabeth. 
 
 Charles. I'll go too, aunt. 
 
 Maria. Come, then, boy, 
 
 [Exeunt Charles and Maria. 
 
 Peter. He'U never be his father, else he would 
 have gone with me to the stable. 
 
 Enter Goetz, Weislingen, Hans, and other Troopers,
 
 250 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 GoETZ (laying his helmet and sword on a tahle). 
 Unbuckle my armour, and give me my doublet. Ease 
 will refresh me. Brother Martin, thou saidst truly. 
 You have kept us long on the watch, Weislingen ! 
 
 [Weislingen paces up and down in silence. 
 
 GoETZ. Be of good cheer. Come, unarm yourself ! 
 Where are your clothes ? I hope nothing has been 
 lost. {To the attendants) Go, ask his servants ; open 
 the baggage, and see that nothing is missing. Or I 
 can lend you some of mine. 
 
 Weislingen. Let me remain as I am — it is all one. 
 
 GoETZ. I can give you a handsome doublet, but it 
 is only of linen : it has grown too tight for me. I 
 wore it at the marriage of my lord the palsgrave, 
 when your bishop was so incensed at me. About a 
 fortnight before I had sunk two of his vessels upon the 
 Main — I was going up-stairs in the Stag at Heidel- 
 berg, with Franz von Sickingen. Before you get quite 
 to the top, there is a landing-place with iron rails — 
 there stood the bishop, and gave his hand to Franz 
 as he passed, and to me also as I followed close behind 
 him. I laughed in my sleeve, and went to the Land- 
 grave of Hanau, who was always a kind friend to me, 
 and said, " The bishop has given me his hand, but I'll 
 wager he did not know me." The bishop heard me, 
 for I was speaking loud on purpose. He came to us 
 angrily, and said, " True, I gave thee my hand, because 
 I knew thee not." To which I answered, " I know 
 that, my lord ; and so here you have your shake of the 
 hand back again ! " The manikin grew red as a turkey- 
 cock with spite; and he ran up into the room, and 
 complained to the Palsgrave Lewis and the Prince of 
 Nassau. We have laughed over the scene again and 
 again. 
 
 Weislingen. I wish you would leave me to myself. 
 
 Goetz. Why so ? I entreat you be of good cheer. 
 You are my prisoner, but I will not abuse my power.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 251 
 
 Weislingen. I have no fear of that. That is your 
 duty as a knight. 
 
 GoETZ. And you know how sacred it is to me. 
 
 Weislingen. I am your prisoner — the rest mat- 
 ters not. 
 
 GoETZ. You should not say so. Had you been 
 taken by a prince, fettered, and cast into a dungeon, 
 your jailer directed to drive sleep from your eyes — 
 
 Enter Servants with clothes. Weislingen unarms 
 himself. Enter Charles. 
 
 Charles. Good morrow, papa ! 
 
 Goetz (kisses him). Good morrow, boy ! How 
 have you been this long time ? 
 
 Charles. Very well, father! Aunt says I am a 
 good boy. 
 
 Goetz. Does she ? 
 
 Charles. Have you brought me anything ? 
 
 Goetz. Nothing this time. 
 
 Charles. I have learned a great deal. 
 
 Goetz. Ay ! 
 
 Charles. Shall I tell you about the good child ? 
 
 Goetz. After dinner. 
 
 Charles. I know something else too. 
 
 Goetz. What may that be ? 
 
 Charles. "Jaxthausen is a village and castle on 
 the Jaxt, which has appertained in property and herit- 
 age for two hundred years to the lords of Berlichin- 
 gen — " 
 
 Goetz. Do you know the Lord of Berlichingen ? 
 (Charles stares at him. Aside.) His learning is so 
 abstruse that he does not know his own father ! To 
 whom does Jaxthausen belong ? 
 
 Charles. " Jaxthausen is a village and castle upon 
 the Jaxt — " 
 
 Goetz. I did not ask that. I knev every path, 
 pass, and ford about the place before ever I knew the
 
 252 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 name of the village, castle, or river. — Is your mother 
 in the kitchen ? 
 
 Chakles. Yes, papa. They are cooking a lamb 
 and turnips. 
 
 GoETZ. Do you know that too, Jack Turnspit ? 
 
 Charles. And my aunt is roasting an apple for 
 me to eat after dinner — 
 
 GoETZ. Can't you eat it raw ? 
 
 Chaeles. It tastes better roasted. 
 
 GoETZ, You must have a tidbit, must you? — 
 Weislingen, I will be with you immediately. I must 
 go and see my wife. — Come, Charles ! 
 
 Charles. Who is that man ? 
 
 GoETZ. Bid him welcome. Tell him to be merry. 
 
 Charles. There's my hand for you, man ! Be 
 merry — for dinner will soon be ready. 
 
 Weislingen {takes up the child and kisses him). 
 Happy boy ! that knowest no worse evil than the 
 delay of dinner. May you live to have much joy in 
 your son, Berlichingen ! 
 
 GoETZ. Where there is most light the shades are 
 deepest. Yet I should thank God for it. We'U see 
 what they are about. 
 
 [Exit with Charles- and Servants. 
 
 Weislingen. Oh, that I could but wake and find 
 this all a dream ! In the power of Berhchiagen ! — 
 from whom I had scarcely detached myself — whose 
 remembrance I shunned hke fire — whom I hoped to 
 overpower ! and he still the old true-hearted Goetz ! 
 Gracious God ! what will be the end of it ? Oh, Adel- 
 bert ! Led back to the very hall where we played as 
 children ; when thou didst love and prize him as thy 
 soul ! Who can know him and hate him ? Alas ! I 
 am so thoroughly insignificant here. Happy days ! ye 
 are gone. There, in his chair by the chimney, sat old 
 Berlichingen, while we played around him, and loved 
 each other like cherubs ! How anxious the bishop
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 253 
 
 and all my friends will be ! Well, the whole country 
 will sympathise with my misfortune. But what avails 
 it ? Can they give me the peace after which I strive ? 
 
 Reenter Goetz with wine and goblets. 
 
 GOETZ. We'll take a glass while dinner is prepar- 
 ing. Come, sit down — think yourself at home ! 
 Fancy you've once more come to see Goetz. It is 
 long since we have sat and emptied a flagon together. 
 (Lifts his glass.) Come : a light heart ! 
 
 Weislingen. Those times are gone by. 
 
 Goetz. God forbid ! To be sure, we shall hardly 
 pass more pleasant days than those we spent together 
 at the margrave's court, when we were inseparable 
 night and day. I think with pleasure on my youth. 
 Do you remember the scuffle I had with the Polander, 
 whose pomaded and frizzled hair I chanced to rub with 
 my sleeve ? 
 
 Weislingen. It was at table ; and he struck at 
 you with a knife. 
 
 Goetz. I gave it him, however ; and you had a 
 quarrel upon that account with his comrades. We 
 always stuck together like brave fellows, and were the 
 ailmiration of every one. {Raises his glass.) Castor 
 and Pollux ! It used to rejoice my heart when the 
 margrave so called us. 
 
 Weislingen. The Bishop of Wurtzburg first gave 
 us the name. 
 
 Goetz. That bishop was a learned man, and withal 
 so kind and gentle. I shall remember as long as I 
 live how he used to caress us, praise our friendship, 
 and say, " Happy is the man who is his friend's twin 
 brother." 
 
 Weislingen. No more of that. 
 
 Goetz. Why not ? I know nothing more dehght- 
 ful after fatigue than to talk over old times. Indeed, 
 when I recall to mind how we bore good and bad for-
 
 254 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 tune together, and were all in all to each other, and 
 how I thought this was to continue for ever ! Was 
 not that my sole comfort when my hand was shot 
 away at Landshut, and you nursed and tended me hke 
 a brother ? I hoped Adelbert would in future be my 
 right hand. And now — 
 
 Weislingen. Alas ! 
 
 GoETZ. Hadst thou but listened to me when I 
 begged thee to go with me to Brabant, all would have 
 been well. But then that unhappy turn for court- 
 dangling seized thee, and thy coquetting and flirting 
 with the women. I always told thee, when thou ' 
 wouldst mix with these lounging, vain court syco- 
 phants, and entertain them with gossip about unlucky 
 matches and seduced girls, scandal about absent 
 friends, and all such trash as they take interest in, — 
 I always said, Adelbert, thou wilt become a rogue ! 
 
 Weislingen. To what purpose is all this ? , 
 
 GoETZ. Would to God I could forget it, or that it 
 were otherwise ! Art not thou free and nobly born as 
 any in Germany ; independent, subject to the emperor 
 alone ; and dost crouch among vassals ? What is the 
 bishop to thee ? Granted, he is thy neighbour, and 
 can do thee a shrewd turn ; hast thou not power and 
 friends to requite him in kind ? Art thou ignorant of 
 the dignity of a free knight, who depends only upon 
 God, the emperor, and himself, that thou degradest 
 thyself to be the courtier of a stubborn, jealous priest ? 
 
 Weislingen. Let me speak ! 
 
 GoETZ. What hast thou to say ? 
 
 Weislingen. You look upon the princes as the 
 wolf upon the shepherd. And can you blame them 
 for defending their territories and property ? Are they 
 a moment secure from the unruly knights, who plun- 
 der their vassals even upon the highroads, and sack 
 their castles and villages ? Upon the other hand, our 
 country's enemies threaten to overrun the lands of our
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 255 
 
 beloved emperor ; yet, while lie needs the princes' 
 assistance, they can scarce defend their own lives : is 
 it not our good genius which at this moment leads 
 them to devise means of procuring peace for Germany, 
 of securing the administration of justice, and giving to 
 great and small the blessings of quiet ? And can you 
 blame us, Berlichingen, for securing the protection of 
 the powerful princes, our neighbours, whose assistance 
 is at hand, rather than relying on that of the emperor, 
 who is so far removed from us, and is hardly able to 
 protect himself ? 
 
 GoETZ. Yes, yes, I understand you. Weislingen, 
 were the princes as you paint them, we should all 
 have what we want. Peace and quiet ! No doubt ! 
 Every bird of prey naturally likes to eat its plunder 
 undisturbed. The general weal ! If they would but 
 take the trouble to study that. And they trifle with 
 the emperor shamefully. Every day some new tinker 
 or other comes to give his opinion. The emperor 
 means well, and would gladly put things to rights ; 
 but because he happens to understand a thing readily, 
 and, by a single word, can put a thousand hands into 
 motion, he thinks everything will be as speedily and 
 as easily accomplished. Ordinance upon ordinance is 
 promulgated, each nullifying the last; while the 
 princes obey only those which serve their own inter- 
 est, and prate of peace and security of the empire, 
 while they are treading under foot their weaker neigh- 
 bours. I will be sworn, many a one thanks God in 
 his heart that the Turk keeps the emperor fully 
 employed ! 
 
 Weislingen, You view things your own way. 
 
 GoETZ. So does every one. The question is, which 
 is the right way to view them ? And your plans at 
 least shun the day. 
 
 Weislingen, You may say what you will : I am 
 your prisoner.
 
 256 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN q |^ 
 
 GoETZ. If your conscience is free, so are you. How 
 was it with the general tranquillity ? I remember 
 going, as a boy of sixteen, with the margrave to the 
 Imperial Diet. What harangues the princes made ! 
 And the clergy were the most vociferous of all. Your 
 bishop thundered into the emperor's ears his regard for 
 justice, till one thought it had become part and parcel 
 of his being. And now he has imprisoned a page of 
 mine, at a time when our quarrels were all accommo- 
 dated, and I had buried them in oblivion. Is not all 
 settled between us ? What does he want with the 
 boy? 
 
 Weislingen. It was done without his knowledge. 
 
 GoETZ. Then, why does he not release him ? 
 
 Weislingen. He did not conduct himself as he 
 ought. 
 
 Goetz. Not conduct himself as he ought ! By my 
 honour he performed his duty, as surely as he has been 
 imprisoned both with your knowledge and the bishop's ! 
 Do you think I am come into the world this very day, 
 that I cannot see what all this means ? 
 
 Weislingen. You are suspicious, and do us wrong. 
 
 Goetz. Weishngen, shall I deal openly with you ? 
 Inconsiderable as I am, I am a thorn in your side, and 
 Selbitz and Sickingen are no less so, because we are 
 firmly resolved to die sooner than to thank any one 
 but God for the air we breathe, or pay homage to any 
 one but the emperor. This is why they worry me in 
 every possible way, blacken my character with the 
 emperor, and among my friends and neighbours, and 
 spy about for advantage over me. They would have 
 me out of the way at any price ; that was your reason 
 for imprisoning the page whom you knew I had des- 
 patched for intelligence : and now you say he did not 
 conduct himself as he should do, because he would 
 not betray my secrets. And you, Weislingen, are their 
 tool I
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 257 
 
 Weislingen. Berlichingen ! 
 
 GoETZ. Not a word more. I am an enemy to long 
 explanations : they deceive either the maker or the 
 hearer, and generally both. 
 
 Enter Charles. 
 
 Charles. Dinner is ready, father ! 
 
 GoETZ. Good news ! Come, I hope the company 
 of my women folk will amuse you. You always liked 
 the girls. Ay, ay, they can tell many pretty stories 
 about you. Come ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Bishop of Bamberg's Palace. 
 
 The Bishop, the Abbot of Fulda, Olearius, Lieb- 
 TRAUT, and Courtiers at table. The dessert and 
 wine before them. 
 
 Bishop. Are there many of the German nobility 
 studying at Bologna ? 
 
 Olearius. Both nobles and citizens ; and I do not 
 exaggerate in saying that they acquire the most bril- 
 hant reputation. It is a proverb in the university, — 
 " As studious as a German noble." For while the citi- 
 zens display a laudable diligence, in order to compen- 
 sate by learning for their want of birth, the nobles 
 strive, with praiseworthy emulation, to enhance their 
 ancestral dignity by superior attainments. 
 
 Abbot. Indeed ! 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. What may one not hve to hear ! We 
 Uve and learn, as the proverb says. " As studious as a 
 German noble." I never heard that before. 
 
 Olearius. Yes : they are the admiration of the 
 whole university. Some of the oldest and most 
 learned will soon be coming back with their doctor's 
 degree. The emperor will doubtless be happy to en- 
 trust to them the highest offices.
 
 258 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Bishop. He cannot fail to do so. 
 
 Abbot. Do you know, for instance, a young man 
 — a Hessian ? — 
 
 Oleakius. There are many Hessians with us. 
 
 Abbot. His name is — is — Does nobody remem- 
 ber it ? His mother was a Von — Oh ! his father 
 had but one eye, and was a marshal — 
 
 LiEBTKAUT. Von Wildenholz ! 
 
 Abbot. Eight. Von Wildenholz. 
 
 Olearius. I know him well. A young man of 
 great abihties. He is particularly esteemed for his 
 talent in disputation. 
 
 Abbot. He has that from his mother. 
 
 Liebtraut. Yes ; but his father would never praise 
 her for that quality. 
 
 Bishop. How call you the emperor who wrote your 
 " Corpus Juris ? " 
 
 Olearius. Justinian. 
 
 Bishop. A worthy prince : — here's to his memory ! 
 
 Olearius. To his memory ! \_Th€,y drink. 
 
 Abbot. That must be a fine book. 
 
 Olearius. It may be called a book of books ; a 
 digest of all laws ; there you find the sentence ready 
 for every case ; and, wjhere the text is antiquated or 
 obscure, the deficiency is supphed by notes, with which 
 the most learned men have enriched this truly admi- 
 rable work. 
 
 Abbot. A digest of all laws ! — Indeed ! — Then 
 the Ten Commandments must be in it. 
 
 Olearius. Imphcitd ; not explicit^. 
 
 Abbot. That's what I mean : plainly set down, 
 without any explication. 
 
 Bishop. But the best is, you tell us that a state 
 can be maintained in the most perfect tranquillity and 
 subordination by receiving and rightly following that 
 statute-book. 
 
 Olearius. Doubtless.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 259 
 
 Bishop. All doctors of laws ! \_They drink. 
 
 Olearius, I'll tell them of this abroad. (^Tliey 
 drink) Would to heaven that men thought thus in 
 my country. 
 
 Abbot. Whence come you, most learned sir ? 
 
 Olearius. From Frankfort, at your Eminence's 
 service ! 
 
 Bishop. You gentlemen of the law, then, are not 
 held in high estimation there ? — How comes that ? 
 
 Olearius. It is strange enough — when I last went 
 there to collect my father's effects, the mob almost 
 stoned me when they heard I was a lawyer. 
 
 Abbot. God bless me ! 
 
 Olearius. It is because their tribunal, which they 
 hold in great respect, is composed of people totally 
 ignorant of the Eoman law. An intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the internal condition of the town, and also 
 of its foreign relations, acquired through age and expe- 
 rience, is deemed a sufficient quahfication. They de- 
 cide according to certain established edicts of their own, 
 and some old customs recognised in the city and neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 Abbot. That's very right. 
 
 Olearius. But far from sufficient. The life of 
 man is short, and in one generation cases of 
 every description cannot occur : our statute-book is a 
 collection of precedents, furnished by the experience 
 of many centuries. Besides, the wills and opinions of 
 men are variable : one man deems right to-day, what 
 another disapproves to-morrow; and confusion and 
 injustice are the inevitable results. Law determines 
 absolutely, and its decrees are immutable. 
 
 Abbot. That's certainly better. 
 
 Olearius. But the common people won't acknowl- 
 edge that ; and, eager as they are after novelty, they 
 hate any innovation in their laws which leads them 
 out of the beaten track, be it ever so much for the
 
 12 6o GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 better. They hate a jurist as if he were a cutpurse 
 or a subverter of the state, and become furious if one 
 attempts to settle among them. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. You come from Frankfort ? — I know 
 the place well — we tasted your good cheer at the 
 emperor's coronation. You say your name is Olearius 
 — I know no one in the town of your name. 
 
 Oleaeius. My father's name was Oilman — But, 
 after the example and with the advice of many jurists, 
 I have Latinised the name to Olearius, for the decora- 
 tion of the title-page of my legal treatises. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. You did well to translate yourself : a 
 prophet is not honoured in his own country — in your 
 native guise you might have shared the same fate. 
 
 Olearius. That was not the reason. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. All things have two reasons. 
 
 Abbot. A prophet is not honoured in his own 
 country. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. But do you know why, most reverend 
 sir? 
 
 Abbot. Because he was born and bred there. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Well, that may be one reason. The 
 other is, because, upon a nearer acquaintance with 
 these gentlemen, the halo of glory and honour shed 
 around them by the distant haze totally disappears: 
 they are then seen to be nothing more than tiny 
 rushlights ! 
 
 Olearius. It seems you are placed here to tell 
 pleasant truths. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. As I havc wit enough to discover them, 
 I do not lack courage to utter them. 
 
 Olearius. Yet you lack the art of applying them 
 well. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. It is no matter where you place a cup- 
 ping-glass, provided it draws blood. 
 
 Olearius. Barbers are known by their dress, and 
 no one takes offence at their scurvy jests. Let me
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 261 
 
 advise you, as a precaution, to bear the badge of your 
 order, — a cap and bells ! 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Where did you take your degree ? I 
 only ask, so that, should I ever take a fancy to a fool's 
 cap, I could at once go to the right shop. 
 
 Olearius. You carry face enough. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. And you paunch. 
 
 [The Bishop and Abbot laugh. 
 
 Bishop. Not so warm, gentlemen ! — Some other 
 subject. At table all should be fair and quiet. Choose 
 another subject, Liebtraut. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Opposite Frankfort lies a village called 
 Sachsenhausen — 
 
 Olearius (to the Bishop). What news of the 
 Turkish expedition, your Excellency ? 
 
 Bishop. The emperor has most at heart, first of all 
 to restore peace to the empire, put an end to feuds, and 
 secure the strict administration of justice : then, accord- 
 ing to report, he will go in person against the enemies 
 of his country and of Christendom. At present inter- 
 nal dissensions give him enough to do ; and the empire, 
 despite half a hundred treaties of peace, is one scene of 
 murder. Franconia, Swabia, the Upper Ehine, and the 
 surrounding countries are laid waste by presumptuous 
 and reckless Isiiights. — And here, at Bamberg, Sickin- . 
 gen, Selbitz with one leg, and Goetz with the iron hand, 1 
 scoff at the imperial authority. 
 
 Abbot. If his Majesty does not exert himself, these 
 fellows will at last thrust us into sacks. 
 
 Liebtraut. He would be a sturdy fellow indeed 
 who should thrust the wine-butt of Fulda into a sack ! 
 
 Bishop. Goetz especially has been for many years 
 my mortal foe, and annoys me beyond description. 
 But it will not last long, I hope. The emperor holds 
 his court at Augsburg. We have taken our measures, 
 and cannot fail of success. — Doctor, do you know 
 Adelbert von Weishngen ?
 
 ■^ 
 
 262 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Olearius. No, your Eminence. 
 
 Bishop. If you stay till his arrival, you will have 
 the pleasure of seeing a most noble, accomphshed, and 
 gallant knight. 
 
 Olearius. He must be an excellent man indeed to 
 deserve such praises from such a mouth. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. And yet he was not bred at any uni- 
 versity. 
 
 Bishop. We know that. (^The attendants throng to 
 the window.^ What's the matter ? 
 
 Attendant. Farber, Weislingen's servant, is riding 
 in at the castle-gate. 
 
 Bishop. See what he brings. He most hkely comes 
 to announce his master. 
 
 [^Exit LiEBTRAUT. They stand up and drink. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT reenters. 
 
 Bishop. What news ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. I wish another had to tell it — Weis- 
 hngen is a prisoner. 
 
 Bishop. What ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Berlichingen has seized him and three 
 troopers near Haslach — One is escaped to tell you. 
 
 Abbot. A Job's messenger ! 
 
 Olearius. I grieve from my heart. 
 
 Bishop. I will see the servant : bring him up — I 
 will speak with him myself. Conduct him into my 
 cabinet. [Exit Bishop. 
 
 Abbot {sitting down). Another draught, however. 
 
 [Tlie Servants /W round. 
 
 Olearius. Will not your Eeverence take a turn in 
 the garden ? " Post ccenam stabis, sen passus mille 
 meabis." 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. In truth, sitting is unhealthy for you. 
 You might get an apoplexy. {Tlie Abbot rises. 
 Aside.) Let me but once get him out of doors, I will 
 give him exercise enough ! [^Exeunt.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 263 
 
 Scene V. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Maria, Weislingen. 
 
 Makia. You love me, you say. I willingly believe 
 it, and hope to be happy with you, and make you 
 happy also. 
 
 Weislingen. I feel nothing but that I am entirely 
 thine. [^Embraces her. 
 
 Mama. Softly ! — I gave you one kiss for earnest, 
 but you must not take possession of what is only yours 
 conditionally. 
 
 Weislingen. You are too strict, Maria ! Innocent 
 love is pleasing in the sight of Heaven, instead of giving 
 offence. 
 
 Maria. It may be so. But I think differently ; 
 for I have been taught that caresses are, like fetters, 
 strong through their union, and that maidens, when 
 they love, are weaker than Samson after the loss of his 
 locks. 
 
 Weislingen. Who taught you so ? 
 
 Maria. The abbess of my convent. Till my six- 
 teenth year I was with her — and it is only with you 
 that I enjoy happiness like that her company afforded 
 me. She had loved, and could tell — She had a most 
 affectionate heart. Oh ! she was an excellent woman ! 
 
 Weislingen. Then you resemble her. {Takes her 
 hand) What will become of me when I am com- 
 pelled to leave you ? 
 
 Maria [withdrawing her hand). You will feel some 
 regret, I hope ; for I know what my feelings will be. 
 But you must away ! 
 
 Weislingen. I know it, dearest ; and I will — for 
 well I feel what happiness I shall purchase by this 
 sacrifice ! Now, blessed be your brother, and the day 
 on which he rode out to capture me !
 
 264 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Maria. His heart was full of hope for you and 
 himself. " Farewell," he said at his departure : " I go 
 to recover my friend." 
 
 Weislingen. That he has done. Would that I had 
 studied the arrangement and security of my property, 
 instead of neglecting it, and dallying at that worthless 
 court ! — then couldst thou have been instantly mine. 
 
 Maria. Even delay has its pleasures. 
 
 Weislingen. Say not so, Maria, else I shall fear 
 that thy heart is less warm than mine. True, I deserve 
 punishment ; but what hopes will brighten every step 
 of my journey ! To be wholly thine, to live only for 
 thee and thy circle of friends — far removed from the 
 world, in the enjoyment of all the raptures which two 
 hearts can nmtually bestow. What is the favour of 
 princes, what the applause of the universe, to such 
 simple yet unequalled felicity ? Many have been my 
 hopes and wishes, but this happiness surpasses them alL 
 
 Enter Goetz. 
 
 Goetz. Your page has returned. He can scarcely 
 utter a word for hunger and fatigue. My wife has 
 ordered him some refreshment. Thus much I have 
 gathered : the bishop will not give up my page — 
 imperial commissioners are to be appointed, and a day 
 named, upon which the matter may be adjusted. Be 
 that as it may, Adelbert, you are free. Pledge me but 
 your hand that you will for the future give neither open 
 nor secret assistance to my enemies. 
 
 Weislingen. Here I grasp thy hand. From this 
 moment be our friendship and confidence firm and 
 unalterable as a primary law of nature ! Let me take 
 this hand also [takes Maria's hand), and with it the 
 possession of this most noble lady. 
 
 Goetz. May I say yes for you ? 
 
 Maria [timidly). If — if it is your wish — 
 
 Goetz. Happily our wishes do not differ on this
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 265 
 
 point. Thou need'st not blush — the glance of thine 
 eye betrays thee. Well, then, Weislingen, join hands ; 
 and I say Amen ! My friend and brother ! I thank 
 thee, sister : thou canst do more than spin flax, for 
 thou hast drawn a thread which can fetter this wander- 
 ing bird of paradise. Yet you look not quite at your 
 ease, Adelbert. What troubles you ? / am perfectly 
 happy ! What I but hoped in a dream, I now see with 
 my eyes, and feel as though I were still dreaming. 
 Now my dream is explained. I thought last night, 
 that, in token of reconciliation, I gave you this iron 
 hand, and that you held it so fast that it broke away 
 from my arm : I started, and awoke. Had I but 
 dreamed a little longer, I should have seen how you 
 gave me a new hving hand. You must away this 
 instant, to put your castle and property in order. That 
 cursed court has made you neglect both. I must call 
 my wife. — Ehzabeth ! 
 
 Maria. How overjoyed my brother is ! 
 
 Weislingen. Yet I am still more so. 
 
 GoETZ {to Maria). You will have a pleasant residence. 
 
 Maria. Franconia is a fine country. 
 
 Weislingen. And I may venture to say that my 
 castle lies in the most fertile and delicious part of it. 
 
 GoETZ. That you may, and I can confirm it. Look 
 you, here flows the Main, round a hill clothed with 
 corn-fields and vineyards, its top crowned with a Gothic 
 castle : then the river make a sharp turn, and glides 
 round behind the rock on which the castle is built. 
 The windows of the great hall look perpendicularly 
 down upon the river, and command a prospect of many 
 miles in extent. 
 
 Enter Elizabeth. 
 
 Elizabeth. What are ye about ? 
 GoETZ. You, too, must give your hand, and say, 
 God bless you ! They are a pair.
 
 266 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Elizabeth. So soon ? 
 
 GoETZ. But not unexpectedly. 
 
 Elizabeth. May you ever adore her as ardently as 
 while you sought her hand ! And then, as your love, 
 so be your happiness ! 
 
 Weislingen, Amen ! I seek no happiness but on 
 this condition. 
 
 Goetz. The bridegroom, my love, must leave us 
 for awhile; for this great change will involve many 
 smaller ones. He must first withdraw himself from 
 the bishop's court, in order that their friendship may 
 gradually cool. Then he must rescue his property 
 from the hands of selfish stewards, and . . . But come, 
 sister ; come, Elizabeth ; let us leave him ; his page 
 has, no doubt, private messages for him. 
 
 Weislingen. Nothing but what you may hear. 
 
 Goetz. 'Tis needless. Franconians and Swabians ! 
 Ye are now more closely united than ever. Now we 
 shall be able to keep the princes in check. 
 
 [Exeunt Goetz, Elizabeth, Maria. 
 
 Weislingen {alone). God in heaven ! And canst 
 thou have reserved such happiness for one so un- 
 worthy ? It is too much for my heart. How meanly 
 I depended upon wretched fools, whom I thought I 
 was governing, upon the smile of princes, upon the 
 homage of those around me ! Goetz, my faithful Goetz, 
 thou has restored me to thyself ; and thou, Maria, hast 
 completed my reformation. I feel free, as if brought 
 from a dungeon into the open air. Bamberg will I 
 never see more, — will snap all the shameful bonds 
 that have held me beneath myself. My heart expands, 
 and never more will I degrade myself by struggling for 
 a greatness that is denied me. He alone is great and 
 happy who fills his own station of independence, and 
 has neither to command nor to obey. 
 
 Enter Francis.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 267 
 
 Fkancis. God save you, noble sir ! I bring you so 
 many salutations that I know not where to begin. 
 Bamberg, and ten miles around, cry with a thousand 
 voices, God save you ! 
 
 Weislingen. Welcome, Francis ! Bring'st thou 
 aught else ? 
 
 Feancis. You are held in such consideration at 
 court that it cannot be expressed. 
 
 Weislingen. That will not last long. 
 
 Fkancis. As long as you live ; and after your death 
 it will shine with more lustre than the brazen char- 
 acters on a monument. How they took your mis- 
 fortune to heart ! 
 
 Weislingen. And what said the bishop ? 
 
 Feancis. His eager curiosity poured out question 
 upon question, without giving me time to answer. He 
 knew of your accident already ; for Farber, who escaped 
 from Haslach, had brought him the tidings. But he 
 wished to hear every particular. He asked so anx- 
 iously whether you were wounded. I told him you 
 were whole, from the hair of your head to the nail of 
 your httle toe. 
 
 Weislingen. And what said he to the proposals ? 
 
 Fkancis. He was ready at first to give up the page 
 and a ransom to boot for your hberty. But when he 
 heard you were to be dismissed without ransom, and 
 merely to give your parole that the boy should be set 
 free, he was for putting off Berhchingen with some 
 pretence. He charged me with a thousand messages 
 to you, more than I can ever utter. Oh, how he ha- 
 rangued ! It was a long sermon upon the text, " I can- 
 not hve without Weislingen ! " 
 
 Weislingen. He must learn to do so. 
 
 Francis. What mean you ? He said, " Bid him 
 hasten : all the court waits for him." 
 
 Weislingen. Let them wait on. I shall not go to 
 •court.
 
 2 68 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Fkancis. Not go to court ! My gracious lord, how 
 come you to say so ? If you knew what I know, could 
 you but dream what I have seen — 
 
 Weislingen. What ails thee ? 
 
 Fkancis. The bare remembrance takes away my 
 senses. Bamberg is no longer Bamberg. An angel of 
 heaven, in semblance of woman, has taken up her 
 abode there, and has made it a paradise. 
 
 Weislingen. Is that all ? 
 
 Francis. May I become a shaven friar if the first 
 ghmpse of her does not drive you frantic ! 
 
 Weislingen. Who is it, then ? 
 
 Francis. Adelaide von Walldorf. 
 
 Weislingen. Indeed ! I have heard much of her 
 beauty. 
 
 Francis. Heard ! You might as well say I have 
 sce7i music. So far is the tongue from being able to 
 rehearse the shghtest particle of her beauty, that the 
 very eye which beholds her cannot drink it all in. 
 
 Weislingen. You are mad. 
 
 Francis. That may well be. The last time I was in 
 her company I had no more command over my senses 
 than if I had been drunk, or, I may rather say, I felt 
 like a glorified saint enjoying the angelic vision ! All 
 my senses exalted, more lively and more perfect than 
 ever, yet not one at its owner's command. 
 
 Weislingen. That is strange ! 
 
 Francis. As I took leave of the bishop, she sat by 
 him : they were playing at chess. He was very gra- 
 cious, gave me his hand to kiss, and said much, of 
 which I heard not a syllable ; for I was looking on his 
 fair antagonivst. Her eye was fixed upon the board, as 
 if meditating a bold move. — A touch of subtle watch- 
 fulness around the mouth and cheek. I could have 
 wished to be the ivory king. The mixture of dignity 
 and feeling on her brow — and the dazzling lustre of 
 her face and neck, heightened by her raven tresses —
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 269 
 
 Weislingen. The theme has made you quite po- 
 etical. 
 
 Francis. I feel at this moment what constitutes 
 poetic inspiration, — a heart altogether wrapt in one 
 idea. As the bishop ended, and I made my obeisance, 
 she looked up, and said, " Offer to your master the best 
 wishes of an unknown. Tell him he must come soon. 
 New friends await him : he must not despise them, 
 though he is already so rich in old ones." I would 
 have answered ; but the passage betwixt my heart and 
 my tongue was closed, and I only bowed. I would 
 have given all I had for permission to kiss but one of 
 her fingers ! As I stood thus, the bishop let fall a 
 pawn ; and, in stooping to pick it up, I touched the 
 hem of her garment. Transport thrilled through my 
 limbs, and I scarce know how I left the room. 
 
 Weislingen. Is her husband at court ? 
 
 Francis. She has been a widow these four months, 
 and is residing at the court of Bamberg to divert her 
 melancholy. You will see her, and to meet her glance 
 is to bask in the sunshine of spring. 
 
 Weislingen. She would not make so strong an 
 impression on me. 
 
 Francis. I hear you are as good as married. 
 
 Weislingen. Would I were really so ! My gentle 
 Maria will be the happiness of my Hfe. The sweet- 
 ness of her soul beams through her mild blue eyes; 
 and, like an angel of innocence and love, she guides 
 my heart to the paths of peace and fehcity ! Pack up, 
 and then to my castle. I will not to Bamberg, though 
 St. Bede came in person to fetch me. 
 
 [Exit Weislingen. 
 
 Francis (alone). Not to Bamberg ! Heavens forbid ! 
 But let me hope the best. Maria is beautiful and 
 amiable, and a prisoner or an invalid might easily fall 
 in love with her. Her eyes beam with compassion 
 and melancholy sympathy; but in thine, Adelaide, is
 
 270 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 life, fire, spirit. I would ... I am a fool : one glance 
 from her has made me so. My master must to Bam- 
 berg, and I also, and either recover my senses or gaze 
 them quite away. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 Scene I. — BamUrg. A Hall. 
 
 The Bishop and Adelaide (playing at chess), Lieb- 
 TEAUT (with a guitar). Ladies and COUKTIEKS 
 (standing in groups). 
 
 Liebtraut (plays and sings). 
 
 Armed with quiver and bow, 
 
 With his torch all aglow. 
 
 Young Cupid comes winging his flight. 
 
 Courage glows in his eyes. 
 
 As adown from the skies, 
 
 He rushes, impatient for fight. 
 
 Up ! up ! 
 
 On ! on ! 
 
 Hark ! the bright quiver rings ! 
 
 Hark ! the rustle of wings ! 
 
 All hail to the delicate sprite ! 
 
 They welcome the urchin ; — 
 Ah, maidens, beware ! 
 He finds every bosom 
 Unguarded and bare. 
 In the light of his flambeau 
 He kindles his darts ; — 
 They fondle and hug him 
 And press to their hearts.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 271 
 
 Adelaide. Your thoughts are not in your game. 
 Check to the king ! 
 
 Bishop. There is still a way of escape. 
 
 Adelaide. You will not be able to hold out long. 
 Check to the king ! 
 
 Liebtraut. Were I a great prince, I would not 
 play at this game, and wo.uld forbid it at court, and 
 throughout the whole land. 
 
 Adelaide. 'Tis indeed a touchstone of the brain. 
 
 Liebtraut. Not on that account. I would rather 
 hear a funeral bell, the cry of the ominous bird, the 
 howling of that snarling watch-dog, conscience, — 
 rather would I hear these through the deepest sleep, 
 than from bishops, knights, and such beasts, the eternal 
 — Check to the king ! 
 
 Bishop. Into whose head could such an idea enter ? 
 
 Liebtraut. A man's, for example, endowed with a 
 weak body and a strong conscience, which, for the 
 most part, indeed, accompany each other. Chess is 
 called a royal game, and is said to have been invented 
 for a king, who rewarded the inventor with a mine of 
 wealth. If this be so, I can picture him to myself. 
 He was a minor, either in understanding or in years, 
 under the guardianship of his mother or his wife ; had 
 down upon his chin, and flaxen hair around his temples ; 
 was pliant as a willow-shoot, and liked to play at 
 draughts with women, not from passion, God forbid ! 
 only for pastime. His tutor, too active for a scholar, 
 too intractable for a man of the world, invented the 
 game, in usum DelpMni, that was so homogeneous 
 with his Majesty — and so on. 
 
 Adelaide. Checkmate ! You should fill up the 
 chasms in our histories, Liebtraut. \T1iey rise. 
 
 Liebtraut. To supply those in our family registers 
 would be more profitable. The merits of our ancestors, 
 as well as their portraits, being available for r common 
 object, namely, to cover the naked sides of our cham-
 
 272 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 bers and of our characters, one might turn such an 
 occupation to good account. 
 
 Bishop. He will not come, you say. 
 
 Adelaide. I beseech you, banish him from your 
 thoughts. 
 
 Bishop. What can it mean ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. What ! The reasons may be told over 
 like the beads of a rosary. He has been seized with a 
 fit of compunction, of which I could soon cure him. 
 
 Bishop. Do so : ride to him instantly. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. My commission — 
 
 Bishop. Shall be unlimited. Spare nothing to 
 bring him back. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. May I venture to use your name, 
 gracious lady ? 
 
 Adelaide. With discretion. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. That's a vague commission. 
 
 Adelaide. Do you know so little of me, or are 
 you so young, as not to understand in what tone you 
 should speak of me to Weislingen ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. In the tone of a fowler's whistle, I 
 think. 
 
 Adelaide. You will never come to your senses. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Does ever any one, gracious lady ? 
 
 Bishop. Go ! Go ! Take the best horse in my 
 stable ; choose your servants, and bring him hither. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. If I do not conjure him hither, say 
 that an old woman who charms warts and freckles 
 knows more of sympathy than I. 
 
 Bishop. Yet, what will it avail ? Berlichingen has 
 wholly gained him over. He will no sooner be here 
 than he will wish to return. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Wish, no doubt he will; but will he 
 be able ? A prince's squeeze of the hand and the 
 smiles of a beauty, from these no Weishugen can tear 
 himself away. I have the honour to take my leave. 
 
 Bishop. A prosperous journey !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 273 
 
 Adelaide. Adieu! [Uxit Liebtraut. 
 
 Bishop. When once he is here, I must trust to 
 you. 
 
 Adelaide, Would you make me your lime-twig ? 
 
 Bishop. By no means. 
 
 Adelaide. Your call-bird, then ? 
 
 Bishop. No : that is Liebtraut's part. I beseech 
 you do not refuse to do for me what no other can. 
 
 Adelaide. We shall see. [Uxeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Jaxthausen. A Hall in Goetz's Castle. 
 
 Enter Goetz and Hans von Selbitz. 
 
 Selbitz. Every one will applaud you for declaring 
 feud against the Nurembergers. 
 
 Goetz. It would have eaten my very heart away 
 had I remained longer their debtor. It is clear that 
 they betrayed my page to the Bambergers. They shall 
 have cause to remember me. 
 
 Selbitz. They have an old grudge against you, 
 
 Goetz. And I against them. I am glad they have 
 begun the fray. 
 
 Selbitz, These free towns have always taken part 
 with the priests, 
 
 Goetz. They have good reason, 
 
 Selbitz. But we will cook their porridge for them ! 
 
 Goetz. I reckon upon you. Would that the Bur- 
 gomaster of Nuremberg, with his gold chain round his 
 neck, fell in our way : we'd astonish him with all his 
 cleverness. 
 
 Selbitz. I hear Weislingen is again on your side. 
 Does he really join in our league ? 
 
 Goetz. Not immediately. There are reasons which 
 prevent his openly giving us assistance, but for the 
 present it is quite enough that he is not against us.
 
 274 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 The priest without him is what the stole would be 
 without the priest ! 
 
 Selbitz, When do we set forward ? 
 
 GoETZ. To-morrow or next day. There are mer- 
 chants of Bamberg and Nuremberg returning from the 
 fair of Frankfort — We may strike a good blow. 
 
 Selbitz. Let us hope so ! 
 
 Scene III. — The Bishop's Palace at Bamberg. 
 
 Adelaide and her Waiting - maid. 
 
 Adelaide. He is here, sayest thou ? I can scarce 
 beheve it. 
 
 Maid. Had I not seen him myself, I should have 
 doubted it. 
 
 Adelaide. The bishop should frame Liebtraut in 
 gold for such a masterpiece of skill. 
 
 Maid. I saw him as he was about to enter the 
 palace. He was mounted on a gray charger. The 
 horse started when he came on the bridge, and would 
 not move forward. The populace thronged up the 
 street to see him. They rejoiced at the delay of the 
 unruly horse. He was greeted on all sides, and he 
 thanked them gracefully all round. He sat the cur- 
 vetting steed with an easy indifference, and by threats 
 and soothing brought him to the gate, followed by 
 Liebtraut and a few servants. 
 
 Adelaide. What do you think of him ? 
 
 Maid. I never saw a man who pleased me so well. 
 He is as like that portrait of the emperor as if he were 
 his son {pointing to a picture). His nose is somewhat 
 smaller, but just such gentle light-brown eyes, just such 
 fine light hair, and such a figure ! A half-melancholy 
 expression on his face, I know not how ; but he pleased 
 me so well.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 275 
 
 Adelaidk I am curious to see him. 
 Maid. He would be the husband for you ! 
 Adelaide. Foolish girl ! 
 Maid. Children and fools — 
 
 Enter Liebtkaut. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT, Now, gracious lady, what do I deserve ? 
 
 Adelaide, Horns from your wife ! — for, judging 
 from the present sample of your persuasive powers, 
 you have certainly endangered the honour of many a 
 worthy family. 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. Not SO, be assured, gracious lady. 
 
 Adelaide. How did you contrive to bring him ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. You know how they catch snipes, and 
 why should I detail my httle stratagems to you ? — 
 First, I pretended to have heard nothing, did not under- 
 stand the reason of his behaviour, and put him upon the 
 disadvantage of telling me the whole story at length ; 
 then I saw the matter in a hght altogether different 
 from what he did — could not find — could not see, 
 and so forth ; then I gossiped things great and small 
 about Bamberg, and recalled to his memory certain old 
 recollections ; and, when I had succeeded in occupying 
 his imagination, I knitted together many a broken 
 association of ideas. He knew not what to say — felt 
 newly attracted to Bamberg — he would, and he would 
 not. When I found him begin to waver, and saw him 
 too much occupied with his own feelings to suspect 
 my sincerity, I threw over his head a halter, woven of 
 the three powerful cords, beauty, court favour, and 
 flattery, and dragged him hither in triumph. 
 
 Adelaide. What said you of me ? 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. The simple truth, — thf.t you were in 
 perplexity about your estates, and had hoped, as he 
 had so much influence with the emperor, all would be 
 satisfactorily settled. 
 
 Adelaide. 'Tis well.
 
 276 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 LiEBTRAUT. The bishop will introduce him to you. 
 
 Adelaide. I expect them. {Exit Liebtraut.) 
 And with such feelings have I seldom expected a 
 visitor. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Spessart. 
 
 Enter Selbitz, Goetz, and George, in the armour and 
 dress of a trooper. 
 
 Goetz. So, thou didst not find him, George ? 
 
 George. He had ridden to Bamberg the day before, 
 with Liebtraut and two servants. 
 
 Goetz. I cannot understand what this means. 
 
 Selbitz. But I do : your reconciliation was almost 
 too speedy to be lasting. Liebtraut is a cunning fel- 
 low, and has, no doubt, inveigled him over. 
 
 Goetz. Think'st thou he will become a traitor ? 
 
 Selbitz. The first step is taken. 
 
 Goetz. I can't believe it. Who knows what he 
 may have to do at court ? — his affairs are not. yet 
 settled. Let us hope for the best. 
 
 Selbitz, Would to Heaven he may deserve of your 
 good opinion, and may act for the best ! 
 
 Goetz. A thought strikes me ! — We will disguise 
 George in the spoils of the Bamberg trooper, and fur- 
 nish him with the password : he may then ride to 
 Bamberg, and see how matters stand. 
 
 George. I have long wished to do so. 
 
 Goetz. It is thy first expedition. Be careful, boy : 
 I should be sorry if ill befell thee. 
 
 George. Never fear. I care not how many of 
 them crawl about me. I think no more of them than 
 of rats and mice. \^Exeunt.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 277 
 
 Scene V. — The Bishop's Palace. His Cabinet, 
 
 The Bishop and Weislingen. 
 
 Bishop. Then, thou wilt stay no longer ? 
 
 Weislingen. You would not have me break my 
 oath. 
 
 Bishop. I could have wished thou hadst not sworn 
 it. — What evil spirit possessed thee ? — Could I not 
 have procured thy release without that ? Is my in- 
 fluence so small in the imperial court ? 
 
 Weislingen. The thing is done : excuse it as you 
 can. 
 
 Bishop. I cannot see that there was the least 
 necessity for taking such a step — To renounce me ? 
 
 — Were there not a thousand other ways of procuring 
 thy freedom ? — Had we not his page ? And would 
 not I have given gold enough to boot, and thus satis- 
 fied Berlichingen ? Our operations against him and 
 his confederates could have gone on . . . Bilt, alas! 
 I do not reflect that I am talking to his friend, who 
 has joined him against me, and can easily counter- 
 work the mines he himself has dug. 
 
 Weislingen. My gracious lord — 
 
 Bishop. And yet — when I again look on thy 
 face, again hear thy voice — it is impossible — im- 
 possible ! 
 
 Weislingen. Farewell, good my lord ! 
 
 Bishop. I give thee my blessing — formerly, when 
 we parted, I was wont to say, " Till we meet again ! " 
 
 — Now, Heaven grant we meet no more ! 
 Weislingen. Things may alter. 
 
 Bishop. Perhaps I may live to see thee appear as 
 an enemy before my walls, carrying havoc through the 
 fertile plains which now owe their flourishing condition 
 to thee.
 
 278 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Weislingen. Never, my gracious lord ! 
 Bishop. You cannot say so. My temporal neigh- 
 bours all have a grudge against me; but while thou 
 wert mine . . . Go, Weislingen ! — I have no more to 
 say — Thou hast undone much — Go — 
 Weislingen. I know not what to answer. 
 
 [Uxit Bishop. 
 Unter Francis. 
 
 Francis. The lady Adelaide expects you. She is 
 not well, but she will not let you depart without bid- 
 ding her adieu. 
 
 Weislingen. Come. 
 
 Francis. Do we go for certain ? 
 
 Weislingen. This very night. 
 
 Francis. I feel as if I were about to leave the 
 world — 
 
 Weislingen. I too, and as if, besides, I knew not 
 whither to go. 
 
 Scene VI. — Adelaide's Apartment. 
 
 Adelaide and Waiting - maid. 
 
 Maid. You are pale, gracious lady. 
 
 Adelaide. I love him not ; yet I wish him to stay 
 — for I am fond of his company, though I should not 
 like him for my husband. 
 
 Maid. Does your ladyship think he will go ? 
 
 Adelaide. He is even now bidding the bishop fare- 
 well. 
 
 Maid. He has yet a severe struggle to undergo. 
 
 Adelaide. What meanest thou ? 
 
 Maid. Why do you ask, gracious lady ? The 
 barbed hook is in his heart : ere he tear it away, he 
 must bleed to death. 
 
 JEnter Weislingen.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 279 
 
 Weislingen. You are not well, gracious lady ? 
 
 Adelaide. That must be indifferent to you — you 
 leave us, leave us for ever : what matters it to you 
 whether we hve or die ? 
 
 Weislingen. You do me injustice. 
 
 Adelaide. I judge you as you appear. 
 
 Weislingen. Appearances are deceitful, 
 
 Adelaide. Then, you are a chameleon. 
 
 Weislingen. Could you but see my heart — 
 
 Adelaide. I should see fine things there. 
 
 Weislingen. Undoubtedly ! — You would find in 
 it your own image — 
 
 Adelaide. Thrust into some dark corner, with the 
 pictures of defunct ancestors ! I beseech you, Weis- 
 lingen, consider with whom you speak : false words are 
 of value only when they serve to veil our actions ; a 
 discovered masquerader plays a pitiful part. You do 
 not disown your deeds, yet your words belie them : 
 what are we to think of you ? 
 
 Weislingen. What you will — I am so agonised 
 at reflecting on what I am, that I httle reck for what 
 I am taken. 
 
 Adelaide. You came to say farewell. 
 
 Weislingen. Permit me to kiss your hand, and I 
 will say adieu ! . . . You remind me — I did not 
 think — but I am troublesome — 
 
 Adelaide. You misinterpret me. Since you will 
 depart, I only wished to assist your resolution. 
 
 Weislingen. Oh, say rather, I must ! — were I 
 not compelled, by my knightly word, — my solemn 
 engagement — 
 
 Adelaide. Go to ! Talk of that to maidens who 
 read " Theuerdanck," and wish they had such a hus- 
 band. — Knightly word ! — Nonsense ! 
 
 Weislingen. That is not your opinion. 
 
 Adelaide. On my honour, you are dissembling. 
 What have you promised ? and to whom ? You have
 
 28o GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 pledged your alliance to one who is a traitor to the 
 emperor, at the very moment when he incurred the 
 ban of the empire by taking you prisoner. Such an 
 agreement is no more binding than an extorted, unjust 
 oath. And do not our laws release you from such 
 oaths ? Go, tell that to children, who believe in 
 Etibezahl. There is something behind all this. — To 
 become an enemy of the empire — a disturber of public 
 happiness and tranquilhty, an enemy of the emperor, 
 the associate of a robber ! — Thou, WeisHngen, with 
 thy gentle soul ! 
 
 Weislingen. If you knew him — 
 
 Adelaide. I would deal justly with Goetz. He 
 has a lofty, indomitable spirit ; and woe to thee, there- 
 fore, Weislingen ! Go, and persuade thyself thou art 
 his companion. Go, and receive his commands. Thou 
 art courteous, gentle — 
 
 Weislingen. And he too. 
 
 Adelaide. But thou art yielding, and he is stub- 
 born. Imperceptibly will he draw thee on. Thou 
 wilt become the slave of a baron, — thou that mightest 
 command princes ! — Yet it is cruel to make you dis- 
 contented with your future position. 
 
 Weislingen. Did you but know what kindness he 
 showed me, 
 
 Adelaide. Kindness ! — Do you make such a merit 
 of that ? It was his duty. And what would you 
 have lost had he acted otherwise ? I would rather he 
 had done so. An overbearing man like — 
 
 Weislingen. You are speaking of your enemy. 
 
 Adelaide. I was speaking for your freedom ; yet I 
 know not why I should take so much interest in it. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Weislingen. Permit me, but a moment. 
 
 [Takes her hand. A pause. 
 
 Adelaide. Have you aught to say ? 
 
 Weislingen. I must hence.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 281 
 
 Adelaide. Then, go. 
 Weislingen. Gracious lady, I cannot. 
 Adelaide. You must. 
 Weislingen, And is this your parting look ? 
 Adelaide. Go : lam unwell, very inopportunely. 
 Weislingen. Look not on me thus ! 
 Adelaide. Wilt thou be our enemy, and yet have 
 us smile upon thee ? — go ! 
 Weislingen. Adelaide ! 
 Adelaide. I hate thee ! 
 
 Enter Francis. 
 
 Fkancis. Noble sir, the bishop inquires for you. 
 
 Adelaide. Go ! go ! 
 
 Fkancis. He begs you to come instantly. 
 
 Adelaide. Go ! go ! 
 
 Weislingen. I do not say adieu : I shall see you 
 again. \_Exeunt Weislingen and Francis. 
 
 Adelaide. Thou wilt see me again ? We must 
 provide for that. Margaret, when he comes, refuse him 
 admittance. Say I am ill, have a headache, am asleep, 
 anything. If this does not detain him, nothing will. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene VII. — An Anteroom. 
 
 Weislingen and Francis. 
 
 Weislingen. She will not see me ! 
 
 Francis. Night draws on : shall we saddle ? 
 
 Weislingen. She will not see me ! 
 
 Francis. Shall I order the horses ? 
 
 Weislingen. It is too late : we stay here. 
 
 Francis. God be praised ! [^Exit 
 
 Weislingen {alone). Thou stayest ! Be on thy 
 guard — the temptation is great. My horse started at 
 the castle-gate. My good angel stood before him : he
 
 282 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 knew the danger that awaited me. Yet it would 
 be wrong to leave in confusion the various affairs 
 entrusted to me by the bishop, without, at least, so 
 arranging them, that my successor may be able to 
 continue where I left off. Thus much I can do with- 
 out injury to Berlichingen, and my alhance with him; 
 and, when it is done, no one shall detain me. Yet it 
 would have been better that I had never come. But I 
 will away — to-morrow — or next day. [^Bxit. 
 
 Scene VIII. — 27ie Spessart. 
 
 Enter Goetz, Selbitz, and George. 
 
 Selbitz. You see, it has turned out as I prophesied. 
 
 Goetz. No, no, no ! 
 
 George. I teU you the truth, beheve me. I did as 
 you commanded, took the dress and password of the 
 Bamberg trooper, and escorted some peasants of the 
 Lower Khine, who paid my expenses for my convoy. 
 
 Selbitz. In that disguise ? It might have cost 
 thee dear. 
 
 George. So I begin to think, now that it's over. 
 A trooper who thinks of danger beforehand will never 
 do anything great. I got safely to Bamberg ; and in 
 the very first inn I heard them tell how the bishop and 
 Weislingen were reconciled, and how Weislingen was 
 to marry the widow of Von Walldorf. 
 
 Goetz. Mere gossip ! 
 
 George. I saw him as he led her to table. She is 
 lovely, by my faith, most lovely ! We all bowed — 
 she thanked us aU. He nodded, and seemed highly 
 pleased. They passed on ; and everybody murmured, 
 " What a handsome pair ! " 
 
 Goetz. That may be. 
 
 George. Listen further. The next day, as he went 
 to mass, I watched my opportunity ; he was attended
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 283 
 
 only by his squire : I stood at the steps, and whis- 
 pered to him as he passed, " A few words from your 
 friend Berhchingen." He started — I marked the 
 confession of guilt in his face. He had scarcely the 
 heart to look at me — me, a poor trooper's boy ! 
 
 Selbitz. His evil conscience degrades him more 
 than thy condition does thee. 
 
 Geokge. " Art thou of Bamberg ? " said he. " The 
 Knight of Berlichingen greets you," said I, " and I am 
 to inquire — " " Come to my apartment to-morrow 
 morning," quoth he, " and we will speak further." 
 
 GoETZ. And you went ? 
 
 George. Yes, certainly, I went, and waited in his 
 antechamber a long, long time ; and his pages, in their 
 silken doublets, stared at me from head to foot. Stare 
 on, thought I. At length I was admitted. He seemed 
 angry. But what cared I ? I gave my message. He 
 began blustering like a coward who wants to look 
 brave. He wondered that you should take him to 
 task through a trooper's boy. That angered me. 
 " There are but two sorts of people," said I, " true men 
 and scoundrels ; and I serve Goetz of Berhchingen." 
 Then he began to talk all manner of nonsense, which 
 all tended to one point ; namely, that you had hurried 
 him into an agreement, that he owed you no allegiance, 
 and would have nothing to do with you. 
 
 Goetz. Hadst thou that from his own mouth ? 
 
 Geoege. That, and yet more. He threatened me — 
 
 Goetz. It is enough. He is lost for ever. Faith 
 and confidence, again have ye deceived me. Poor 
 Maria ! how am I to break this to you ? 
 
 Selbitz. I would rather lose my other leg than be 
 such a rascal.
 
 284 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Scene IX. — Hall in the Bishop's Palace at Bamberff. 
 
 Adelaide and Weislingen discovered. 
 
 Adelaide. Time begins to hang insupportably 
 heavy here. I dare not speak seriously, and I am 
 ashamed to trifle with you. Ennui, thou art worse 
 than a slow fever. 
 
 Weislingen. Are you tired of me already ? 
 
 Adelaide. Not so much of you as of your society. 
 I would you had gone when you wished, and that we 
 had not detained you. 
 
 Weislingen. Such is woman's favour ! At first 
 she fosters with maternal warmth our dearest hopes ; 
 and then, hke an inconstant hen, she forsakes the nest, 
 and abandons the infant brood to death and decay. 
 
 Adelaide. Yes, you may rail at women. The reck- 
 less gambler tears and curses the harmless cards which 
 have been the instruments of his loss. But let me tell 
 you something about men. What are you that talk 
 about fickleness ? You that are seldom even what you 
 would wish to be, never what you should be. Princes 
 in hohday garb ! the envy of the vulgar. Oh, what 
 would not a tailor's wife give for a necklace of the 
 pearls on the skirt of your robe, which you kick back 
 contemptuously with your heels. 
 
 Weislingen. You are severe. 
 
 Adelaide. It is but the antistrophe to your song. 
 Ere I knew you, Weishngen, I felt like the tailor's wife. 
 Hundred-tongued rumour, to speak without metaphor, 
 had so extolled you, in quack-doctor fashion, that I was 
 tempted to wish. Oh, that I could but see this quin- 
 tessence of manhood, this phoenix, Weishngen ! My 
 wish was granted. 
 
 Weislingen. And the phoenix turned out a dunghill 
 cock.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 28 
 
 Adelaide. No, Weislingen : I took an interest 
 in you. 
 
 Weislingen. So it appeared. 
 
 Adelaide. So it was — for you really surpassed 
 your reputation. The multitude prize only the reflec- 
 tion of worth. For my part, I do not care to scrutinise 
 the character of those I like and esteem : so we hved on 
 for some time. I felt there was a deficiency in you, 
 but knew not what I missed : at length my eyes were 
 opened — I saw instead of the energetic being who gave 
 impulse to the affairs of a kingdom, and was ever alive 
 to the voice of fame ; who was wont to pile princely 
 project on project, till, like the mountains of the Titans, 
 they reached the clouds, — instead of all this, I saw a 
 man as querulous as a love-sick poet, as melancholy as 
 a slighted damsel, and more indolent than an old bach- 
 elor. I first ascribed it to your misfortune, which still 
 lay at your heart, and excused you as well as I could ; 
 but now that it daily becomes worse, you must really 
 forgive me if I withdraw my favour from you. You 
 possess it unjustly : I bestowed it for life on a hero who 
 cannot transfer it to you. 
 
 Weislingen. Dismiss me, then. 
 
 Adelaide. Not till all chance of recovery is lost. 
 Sohtude is fatal in your distemper. Alas ! poor man ! 
 you are as dejected as one whose first love has proved 
 false, and therefore I won't give you up. Give me your 
 hand, and pardon what affection has urged me to say. 
 
 Weislingen. Couldst thou but love me, couldst 
 thou but return the fervour of my passion with the 
 least glow of sympathy. — Adelaide, thy reproaches 
 are most unjust. Couldst thou but guess the hun- 
 dredth part of my sufferings, thou wouldst not have 
 tortured me so unmercifully with encouragement, in- 
 difference, and contempt. You smile. To be recon- 
 ciled to myself after the step I have taken must be the 
 work of more than one day. How can I plot against
 
 286 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 I the man who has been so recently and so vividly 
 j restored to my affection ? 
 
 Adelaide. Strange being! Can you love him 
 whom you envy ? It is like sending provisions to 
 an enemy. 
 
 Weislingen. I well know that here there must be 
 no dallying. He is aware that I am again Weishngen, 
 and he will watch his advantage over us. Besides, 
 Adelaide, we are not so sluggish as you think. Our 
 troopers are reenforced and watchful ; our schemes are 
 proceeding ; and the Diet of Augsburg will, I hope, 
 soon bring them to a favourable issue, 
 
 Adelaide. You go there ? 
 
 Weislingen. If I could carry a glimpse of hope 
 with me. ^Kisses her hand. 
 
 Adelaide. Oh ! ye infidels ! Always signs and 
 wonders required. Go, Weislingen, and accomplish 
 the work ! The interest of the bishop, yours and 
 mine, are all so Linked together, that were it only for 
 policy's sake — 
 
 Weislingen. You jest. 
 
 Adelaide. I do not jest. The haughty duke has 
 seized my property. Goetz will not be slow to ravage 
 yours ; and if we do not hold together, as our enemies 
 do, and gain over the emperor to our side, we are 
 lost. 
 
 Weislingen. I fear nothing. Most of the princes 
 think with us. The emperor needs assistance against 
 the Turks, and it is therefore just that he should help 
 us in his turn. What rapture for me to rescue your 
 fortune from rapacious enemies ; to crush the mutinous 
 chivalry of Swabia ; to restore peace to the bishopric, 
 and then — 
 
 Adelaide. One day brings on another, and fate is 
 mistress of the future. 
 
 Weislingen. But we must lend our endeavours. 
 
 Adelaide. We do so.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 287 
 
 Weislingen. But seriously. 
 
 Adelaide. Well, then, seriously. Do but go — 
 
 Weislingen. ' Enchantress ! lUxeunt 
 
 Scene X. — An Inn. 
 
 The Bridal of a Peasant. 
 
 The Bride's Father, Bride, Bridegroom, and other 
 Country-folks, GoETZ of Berlichingen, and Hans 
 OF Selbitz all discovered at table. Troopers and 
 Peasants attend. 
 
 Goetz. It was the best way thus to settle your 
 lawsuit by a merry bridal. 
 
 Bride's Father. Better than ever I could have 
 dreamed of, noble sir, — to spend my days in quiet 
 with my neighbour, and have a daughter provided for 
 to boot. 
 
 Bridegroom. And I to get the bone of contention 
 and a pretty wife into the bargain ! Ay, the prettiest 
 in the whole village. Would to Heaven you had con- 
 sented sooner ! 
 
 Goetz. How long have you been at law ? 
 
 Bride's Father. About eight years. I would 
 rather have the fever for twice that time, than go 
 through with it again from the beginning. For these 
 periwigged gentry never give a decision till you tear it 
 out of their very hearts ; and, after all, what do you 
 get for your pains ? The Devil fly away with the 
 assessor Sapupi for a damned swarthy Italian ! 
 
 Bridegroom. Yes, he's a pretty fellow : I was before 
 him twice. 
 
 Bride's Father. And I thrice : and look ye, gentle- 
 men, we got a judgment at last, which set forth that he 
 was as much in the right as I, and I as much as he ;
 
 288 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 SO there we stood like a couple of fools, till a good 
 Providence put it into my head to give him my daugh- 
 ter and the ground besides. 
 
 GoETZ (drinks). To your better understanding in 
 future. 
 
 Bride's Father. With all my heart ! But, come 
 what may, I'll never go to law again as long as I live. 
 What a mint of money it costs ! For every bow made 
 to you by a procurator, you must come down with your 
 dollars. 
 
 Selbitz. But there are annual imperial visitations. 
 
 Bride's Father. I have never heard of them. Many 
 an extra dollar have they contrived to squeeze out of 
 me. The expenses are horrible. 
 
 GoETZ. How mean you ? 
 
 Bride's Father. Why, look you, these gentlemen 
 of the law are always holding out their hands. The 
 assessor alone, God forgive him, eased me of eighteen 
 golden guilders. 
 
 Bridegroom. Who ? 
 
 Bride's Father. Why, who else but Sapupi ? 
 
 GoETZ. That is infamous. 
 
 Bride's Father. Yes : he asked twenty ; and there 
 I had to pay them in the great hall of his fine country- 
 house. I thought my heart would burst with anguish. 
 For look you, my lord, I am well enough off with my 
 house and little farm ; but how could I raise the ready 
 cash ? I stood there, God knows how it was with me. 
 I had not a single farthing to carry me on my journey. 
 At last I took courage, and told him my case : when he 
 saw I was desperate, he flung me back a couple of 
 guilders, and sent me about my business. 
 
 Bridegroom. Impossible ! Sapupi ? 
 
 Bride's Father. Ay, he himself ! What do you 
 stare at ? 
 
 Bridegroom. Devil take the rascal! He took 
 fifteen guilders from me too !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 289 
 
 Bride's Father. The deuce he did ! 
 
 Selbitz. They call us robbers, Goetz ! 
 
 Bride's Father. Bribed on both sides ! That's 
 why the judgment fell out so queer. Oh ! the scoundrel 1 
 
 Goetz. You must not let this pass unnoticed. 
 
 Bride's Father. What can we do ? 
 
 Goetz. Why — go to Spire, where there is an impe- 
 rial visitation : make your complaint ; they must inquire 
 into it, and help you to your own again. 
 
 Bridegroom. Does your honour think we shall suc- 
 ceed ? 
 
 Goetz. If I might take it in hand, I could promise 
 it you. 
 
 Selbitz. The sum is worth an attempt. 
 
 Goetz. Ay : many a day have I ridden out for the 
 fourth part of it. 
 
 Bride's Father {to Bridegroom). What think'st 
 thou ? 
 
 Bridegroom. We'll try, come what may. * 
 
 Enter George. 
 
 George. The Nurembergers have set out. 
 
 Goetz. Whereabouts are they ? 
 
 George. If we ride off quietly, we shall just catch 
 them in the wood betwixt Berheim and Miihlbach. 
 
 Selbitz. Excellent. 
 
 Goetz. Well, my children, God bless you, and help 
 every man to his own ! 
 
 Bride's Father. Thanks, gallant sir ! Will you 
 not stay to supper ? 
 
 Goetz. We cannot. Adieu ! 
 
 [Exeunt Goetz, Selbitz, and Troopers.
 
 290 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — A Garden at Augsburg. 
 
 Enter two Mekchants of Nuremberg. 
 
 First Merchant. We'll stand here, for the em- 
 peror must pass this way. He is just coming up the 
 long avenue. 
 
 Second Merchant. Who is he that's with him ? 
 
 First Merchant. Adelbert of Weisliagen. 
 
 Second Merchant. The bishop's friend. That's 
 lucky ! 
 
 First Merchant. We'll throw ourselves at his 
 feet. 
 
 Second Merchant. See ! they come. 
 
 Enter the Emperor and Weislingen. 
 
 First Merchant. He looks displeased. 
 
 Emperor. I am disheartened, Weislingen. When 
 I review my past life, I am ready to despair. So many 
 half — ay, and wholly ruined undertakings — and all be- 
 cause the pettiest feudatory of the empire thinks more 
 of gratifying his own whims than of seconding my 
 endeavours. 
 
 [^Tlie Merchants throw themselves at his feet. 
 
 First Merchant. Most mighty ! Most gracious ! 
 
 Emperor. Who are ye ? What seek ye ? 
 
 First Merchant. Poor merchants of Nuremberg, 
 your Majesty's devoted servants, who implore your aid. 
 Goetz von Berlichingen and Hans von Selbitz fell 
 upon thirty of us as we journeyed from the fair of 
 Frankfort, under an escort from Bamberg : they over- 
 powered and plundered us. We implore your imperial 
 assistance to obtain redress, else we are all ruined men, 
 and shall be compelled to beg our bread.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 291 
 
 Emperor. Good heavens ! What is this ? The 
 one has but one hand, the other but one leg : if they 
 both had two hands and two legs, what would you do 
 then? 
 
 First Merchant. We most humbly beseech your 
 Majesty to cast a look of compassion upon our unfortu- 
 nate condition. 
 
 Emperor. How is this ? — If a merchant loses 
 a bag of pepper, all Germany is to rise in arms ; but 
 when business is to be done, in which the imperial 
 majesty and the empire are interested, should it con- 
 cern dukedoms, principalities, or kingdoms, there is no 
 bringing you together. 
 
 Weislingen. You come at an unseasonable time. 
 Go, and stay at Augsburg for a few days. 
 
 Merchants. We make our most humble obeisance. 
 
 [Exeunt Merchants. 
 
 Emperor. Again new disturbances ; they multiply 
 like the hydra's heads ! 
 
 Weislingen. And can only be extirpated with fire 
 and sword, and a courageous enterprise. 
 
 Emperor. Do you think so ? 
 
 Weislingen. Nothing seems to me more advisable, 
 could your Majesty and the princes but accommodate 
 your other unimportant disputes. It is not the body 
 of the state that complains of this malady — Franconia 
 and Swabia alone glow with the embers of civil dis- 
 cord ; and even there many of the nobles and free 
 barons long for quiet. Could we but crush Sickingen, 
 Selbitz — and — and Berlichingen, the others would fall 
 asunder; for it is the spirit of these knights which 
 quickens the turbulent multitude. 
 
 Emperor. Fain would I spare them : they are noble 
 a'nd hardy. Should I be engaged in war, they would 
 follow me to the field. 
 
 Weislingen. It is to be wished they had at all 
 times known their duty : moreover it would be dan-
 
 292 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 gerous to reward their mutinous bravery by offices of 
 trust. For it is exactly this imperial mercy and for- 
 giveness which they have hitherto so grievously abused, 
 upon which the hope and confidence of their league 
 rest ; and this spirit cannot be quelled till we have 
 wholly destroyed their power in the eyes of the world, 
 and taken from them all hope of ever recovering their 
 lost influence. 
 
 Emperok. You advise severe measures, then ? 
 
 Weislingen. I see no other means of quelhng the 
 spirit of insurrection which has seized upon whole 
 provinces. Do we not already hear the bitterest com- 
 plaints from the nobles that their vassals and serfs 
 rebel against them, question their authority, and 
 threaten to curtail their hereditary prerogatives ? A 
 proceeding which would involve the most fearful con- 
 sequences. 
 
 Emperor. This were a fair occasion for proceeding 
 against Berlichingen and Selbitz, but I will not have 
 them personally injured. Could they be taken pris- 
 oners, they should swear to renounce their feuds and 
 to remain "in their own castles and territories upon 
 their knightly parole. At the next session of the diet 
 we will propose this plan. 
 
 Weislingen. A general exclamation of joyful as- 
 sent will spare your Majesty the trouble of particular 
 detail. [IJxeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Jaxthmisen. 
 
 Enter Goetz and Franz von Sickingen. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Yes, my friend, I come to beg the 
 heart and hand of your noble sister. 
 
 Goetz. I would you had come sooner. "Weislin- 
 gen, during his imprisonment, obtained her affections,
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 293 
 
 proposed for her ; and I gave my consent. I let the 
 bird loose, and he now despises the benevolent hand 
 that fed him in his distress. He flutters about to seek 
 his food, God knows upon what hedge. 
 
 SiCKINGEN. Is this so ? 
 
 GoETZ. Even as I tell you. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. He has broken a double bond. 'Tis 
 well for you that you were not more closely allied 
 with the traitor. 
 
 GoETZ. The poor maiden passes her life in lamen- 
 tation and prayer. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. I will comfort her. 
 
 GoETZ. What ! Could you make up your mind to 
 marry a forsaken — 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. It is to the honour of you both, to have 
 been deceived by him. Should the poor girl be caged 
 in a cloister because the first man who gained her love 
 proved a villain ? Not so : I insist on it. She shaU 
 be mistress of my castles ! 
 
 GoETZ. I tell you, he was not indifferent to her. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Do you think I cannot efface the recol- 
 lection of such a wretch ? Let us go to her. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene. HI. — Tlu Camp of the Party sent to execute 
 the Imperial Mandate. 
 
 Imperial Captain and Officers discovered. 
 
 Captain. We must be cautious, and spare our 
 people as much as possible. Besides, we have strict 
 orders to overpower and take him ahve. It will be 
 difficult to obey, for who will engage with him hand 
 to hand ? 
 
 First Officer. 'Tis true. And he will fight like 
 a wild boar. Besides, he has never in his whole life 
 injured any of us ; so each will be glad to leave to the
 
 294 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 other the honour of risking hfe and limb to please the 
 emperor. 
 
 Second Officer. 'Twere shame to us should we 
 not take him. Had I him once by the ears, he should 
 not easily escape. 
 
 First Officer. Don't seize him with your teeth, 
 however : he might chance to run away with your jaw- 
 bone. My good young sir, such men are not taken 
 like a runaway thief. 
 
 Second Officer. We shall see. 
 
 Captain. By this time he must have had our sum- 
 mons. We must not delay. I mean to despatch a 
 troop to watch his motions. 
 
 Second Officer. Let me lead it. 
 
 Captain. You are unacquainted with the country. 
 
 Second Officer. I have a servant who was born 
 and bred here. 
 
 Captain. That will do. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV, — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Sickingen {alone). 
 
 All goes as I wish ! She was somewhat startled at 
 my proposal, and looked at me from head to foot : I'll 
 wager she was comparing me with her gallant. Thank 
 Heaven I can stand the scrutiny ! She answered httle 
 and confusedly. So much the better ! Let it work 
 for a time. A proposal of marriage does not come 
 amiss after such a cruel disappointment. 
 
 Enter Goetz. 
 
 Sickingen. What news, brother ? 
 Goetz. They have laid me under the ban. 
 Sickingen. How ? ^ 
 
 Goetz. There, read the edifying epistle. The em- 
 peror has issued an edict against me, which gives my
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 295 
 
 body for food to the beasts of the earth and the fowls 
 of the air. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. They shall first furnish them with a 
 dinner themselves. I am here in the very nick of 
 time. 
 
 GoETZ. No, Sickingen, you must leave me. Your 
 great undertakings might be ruined, should you become 
 the enemy of the emperor at so unseasonable a time. 
 Besides, you can be of more use to me by remaining 
 neutral. The worst that can happen, is my being made 
 prisoner ; and then your good word with the emperor, 
 who esteems you, may rescue me from the misfortune 
 into which your untimely assistance would irremediably 
 plunge us both. To what purpose should you do 
 otherwise ? These troops are marching against me ; 
 and, if they knew we were united, their numbers would 
 only be increased, and our position consequently be no 
 better. The emperor is at the fountainhead ; and I 
 should be utterly ruined were it as easy to inspire 
 soldiers with courage as to collect them into a body. 
 
 Sickingen. But I can privately reinforce you with 
 a score of troopers. 
 
 GoETZ. Good. I have already sent George to 
 Selbitz, and to my people in the neighbourhood. 
 My dear brother, when my forces are collected, they 
 will be such a troop as few princes can bring together, 
 
 Sickingen. It will be small against the multitude. 
 
 GoETZ. One wolf is too many for a whole flock of 
 sheep. 
 
 Sickingen. But if they have a good shepherd ! 
 
 GoETZ. Never fear ! They are all hirelings ; and d""^^^' 
 then, even the best knight can do but little if he cannot 
 act as he pleases. It happened once, that, to oblige the 
 patsgrave, I went to serve against Conrad Schotten : 
 they then presented me with a paper of instructions 
 from the chancery, which set forth. Thus and thus 
 must you proceed. I threw down the paper before the
 
 296 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 magistrates, and told them I could not act according to 
 it ; that something might happen unprovided for in my 
 instructions, and that I must use my own eyes and 
 judge what it is best for me to do. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Good luck, brother ! I will hence, and 
 send thee what men I can collect in haste. 
 
 GoETZ. Come first to the women. I left them 
 together. I would you had her consent before you 
 depart ! Then send me the troopers, and come back 
 in private to carry away my Maria ; for my castle, I 
 fear, will shortly be no abode for women, 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. We will hope for the best. 
 
 [Uxeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Bamherg. Adelaide's Chamher. 
 
 Adelaide and Feancis. 
 
 Adelaide. They have already set out to enforce the 
 ban against both ? 
 
 Francis. Yes ; and my master has the happiness 
 of marching against your enemies. I would gladly 
 have gone also, however rejoiced I always am at being 
 despatched to you. But I will away instantly, and 
 soon return with good news : my master has allowed 
 me to do so. 
 
 Adelaide, How is he ? 
 
 Francis. He is well, and commanded me to kiss 
 your hand. 
 
 Adelaide. There ! — Thy Hps glow, 
 
 Francis (aside, pressing his breast). Here glows 
 something yet more fiery. (^Aloud.') Gracious lady, 
 your servants are the most fortunate of beings ! 
 
 Adelaide. Who goes against Berhchingen ? 
 
 Francis. The Baron von Sirau. Farewell ! Dear- 
 est, most gracious lady, I must away. Forget me not !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 297 
 
 Adelaide. Thou must first take some rest and re- 
 freshment. 
 
 Francis. I need none, for I have seen you ! I am 
 neither weary nor hungry, 
 
 Adelaide. .1 know thy fidehty. 
 
 Francis. Ah, gracious lady ! 
 
 Adelaide. You can never hold out : you must 
 repose and refresh yourself. 
 
 Francis. You are too kind to a poor youth. [Uxit. 
 
 Adelaide. The tears stood in his eyes. I love him 
 from my heart. Never did man attach himself to me 
 with such warmth of affection. [Uxit, 
 
 Scene VI. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Goetz and George. 
 
 George. He wants to speak with you in person. 
 I do not know him : he is a tall, well-made man, with 
 keen, dark eyes. 
 
 Goetz. Admit him. [Exit George. 
 
 Unter Lerse. 
 
 Goetz. God save you ! What bring you ? 
 
 Lerse. Myself : not much ; but, such as it is, it is 
 at your service. 
 
 Goetz. You are welcome, doubly welcome ! A 
 brave man, and at a time when,' far from expecting new 
 friends, I was in hourly fear of losing the old. Your 
 name? 
 
 Lerse. Franz Lerse. 
 
 Goetz. I thank you, Franz, for making me ac- 
 quainted with a brave man ! 
 
 Lerse. I made you acquainted with me once before, 
 but then you did not thank me for my pains. 
 
 Goetz. I have no recollection of you.
 
 298 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Leese. I should be sorry if you had. Do you 
 recollect when, to please the Palsgrave, you rode 
 against Conrad Schotten, and went through Hassfurt 
 on an All-hallow's eve ? 
 
 GoETZ. I remember it well. 
 
 Leese. And twenty-five troopers encountered you 
 in a village by the way ? 
 
 GoETZ. Exactly. I at first took them for only twelve. 
 I divided my party, which amounted but to sixteen, and 
 halted in the village behind the barn, intending to let 
 them ride by. Then I thought of falling upon them in 
 the rear, as I had concerted with the other troop. 
 
 Leese. We saw you, however, and stationed ourselves 
 on a height above the village. You drew up beneath 
 the hni, and halted. When we perceived that you did 
 not intend to come up to us, we rode down to you. 
 
 Goetz. And then I saw for the first time that I had 
 thrust my hand into the fire. Five and twenty against 
 eight is no jesting business. Everard Truchsess killed 
 one of my followers, for which I knocked him off his 
 horse. Had they all behaved hke him and one other 
 trooper, it would have been all over with me and my 
 little band. 
 
 Leese. And that trooper — 
 
 Goetz. Was as gallant a fellow as I ever saw. He 
 attacked me fiercely ; and when I thought I had given 
 him enough, and was engaged elsewhere, he was upon 
 me again, and laid on hke a fury ; he cut quite through 
 my armour, and wounded me in the arm. 
 
 Leese. Have you forgiven him ? 
 
 Goetz. He pleased me only too well. 
 
 Leese. I hope, then, you have cause to be contented 
 with me : since the proof of my valour was on your own 
 person. 
 
 Goetz. Art thou he ? Oh, welcome ! welcome ! 
 Canst thou boast, Maximilian, that, amongst thy 
 followers, thou hast gained one after this fashion ?
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 299 
 
 Lerse. I wonder you did not sooner hit upon me. 
 
 GoETZ. How could I think that the man would en- 
 gage in my service who did his best to overpower me ? 
 
 Lerse. Even so, my lord. From my youth up- 
 ward I have served as a trooper, and have had a tussle 
 with many a knight. I was overjoyed when we met 
 you ; for I had heard of your prowess, and wished 
 to know you. You saw I gave way, and that it was 
 not from cowardice ; for I returned to the charge. In 
 short, I learnt to know you ; and from that hour I 
 resolved to enter your service. 
 
 GoETZ. How long wilt thou engage with me ? 
 
 Leese. For a year, without pay. 
 
 GoETZ. No : thou shalt have as much as the others ; 
 nay, more, as befits him who gave me so much work 
 at Eemlin. 
 
 Enter George. 
 
 George, Hans of Selbitz greets you. To-morrow 
 he will be here with fifty men. 
 
 Goetz. 'Tis well. 
 
 George. There is a troop of Imperialists riding 
 down the hill, doubtless to reconnoitre. 
 
 Goetz. How many ? 
 
 George. About fifty. 
 
 Goetz. Only fifty ! Come, Lerse, we'U have a slash 
 at them ; so that when Selbitz comes he may find some 
 work done to his hand. 
 
 Lerse. 'Twill be capital practice. 
 
 Goetz. To horse ! [Exeunt
 
 300 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Scene VII. — A Wood, on the Borders of a Morass. 
 
 Tivo Imperialist Tkoopees meeting. 
 
 First Imperialist. What dost thou here ? 
 
 Second Imperialist. I have leave of absence for 
 ten minutes. Ever since our quarters were beat up last 
 night, I have had such violent attacks that I can't sit 
 on horseback for two minutes together. 
 
 First Imperialist. Is the party far advanced ? 
 
 Second Imperialist. About three miles into the 
 wood. 
 
 First Imperialist. Then, why are you playing 
 truant here ? 
 
 Second Imperialist. Prithee, betray me not. I 
 am going to the next village to see if I cannot get 
 some warm bandages, to relieve my complaint. But 
 whence comest thou ? 
 
 First Imperialist. I am bringing our officer some 
 wine and meat from the nearest village. 
 
 Second Imperialist. So, so ! he stuffs himself 
 under our very noses, and we must starve, — a fine 
 example ! 
 
 First Imperialist. Come back with me, rascal. 
 
 Second Imperialist. Call me a fool if I do ! There 
 are plenty in our troop who would gladly fast, to be as 
 far away as I am. [^Trampling of horses heard. 
 
 First Imperialist. Hearest thou ? — Horses ! 
 
 Second Imperialist. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 
 
 First Imperialist. I'U get up into this tree. 
 
 Second Imperialist. And I'll hide among the 
 rushes. {They hide themselves. 
 
 Enter on horseback, Goetz, Lerse, George, and Troop- 
 ers, all completely armed. 
 
 Goetz. Away into the wood, by the ditch on the 
 left — then we have them in the rear. [They gallop off.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 301 
 
 FiKST Imperialist {descending). This is a bad 
 business — Michael ! — He answers not — Michael, 
 they are gone ! (^Goes toward the marsh.') Alas, he 
 is sunk ! — Michael ! — He hears me not : he is 
 suffocated. — Poor coward, art thou done for ? — 
 We are slain — Enemies ! Enemies on all sides ! 
 
 Reenter GoETZ and George on horseback. 
 
 GoETZ. Yield thee, fellow, or thou diest ! 
 
 Imperialist. Spare my life ! 
 
 GoETZ. Thy sword ! — George, lead him to the 
 other prisoners, whom Lerse is guarding yonder in the 
 wood — I must pursue their fugitive leader. \^Exit. 
 
 Imperialist. What has become of the knight, our 
 officer ? 
 
 George. My master struck him head over heels 
 from his horse, so that his plume stuck in the mire. 
 His troopers got him up, and off they were as if the 
 Devil were behind them. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Camp of the Imperialists. 
 
 Captain and First Officer. 
 
 First Officer. They flee from afar toward the 
 camp. 
 
 Captain. He is most likely hard at their heels — 
 Draw out fifty as far as the mill : if he follows up the 
 pursuit too far, you may perhaps entrap him. 
 
 [Exit Officer. 
 
 The Second Officer is home in. 
 
 Captain. How now, my young sir — have you got 
 .a cracked headpiece ? 
 
 Officer. A plague upon you ! The stoutest helmet 
 ^ent to shivers like glass. The demon ! — he ran upon 
 me as if he would strike me into the earth !
 
 302 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Captain. Thank God that you have escaped with 
 your Hfe. 
 
 Officek. There is Httle left to be thankful for : two 
 of my ribs are broken — where's the surgeon ? 
 
 [He is carried off. 
 
 Scene IX. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Enter Goetz and Selbitz. 
 
 GoETZ. And what say you to the ban, Selbitz ? 
 
 Selbitz. 'Tis a trick of Weislingen's. 
 
 Goetz. Do you think so ? 
 
 Selbitz. I do not think — I know it. 
 
 Goetz. How so ? 
 
 Selbitz. He was at the diet, I tell thee, and near 
 the emperor's person. 
 
 Goetz. Well, then, we shall frustrate another of 
 his schemes. 
 
 Selbitz. I hope so. 
 
 Goetz. We will away, and course these hares. 
 
 Scene X. — Hie Imperial Camp. 
 
 Captain, Officers, and Followers. 
 
 Captain. We shaU gain nothing at this work, sirs I 
 He beats one troop after another ; and whoever escapes 
 death or captivity, would rather flee to Turkey than 
 return to the camp. Thus our force diminishes daily. 
 We must attack him once for all, and in earnest — I 
 will go myself, and he shall find with whom he has to 
 deal. 
 
 Officer. We are all content ; but he is so well 
 acquainted with the country, and knows every path 
 and ravine so thoroughly, that he will be as difficult 
 to find as a rat in a barn.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 303 
 
 Captain. I warrant you we'll ferret him out. On 
 toward Jaxthausen ! Whether he like it or not, he 
 must come to defend his castle. 
 
 Officer. Shall our whole force march ? 
 
 Captain. Yes, certainly — do you know that a 
 hundred of us are melted away already ? 
 
 Officer. Then, let us away with speed, before the 
 whole snowball dissolves ; for this is warm work, and 
 we stand here hke butter in the sunshine. 
 
 [_Uxeunt. A march sounded. 
 
 Scene XI. — Mountains and a Wood. 
 
 GoETZ, Selbitz, a7id Troopers. 
 
 GoETZ. They are coming in full force. It was high 
 time that Sickingen's troopers joined us. 
 
 Selbitz. We wiU divide our party — I wiU take 
 the left hand by the hill. 
 
 Goetz. Good — and do thou, Lerse, lead fifty men 
 straight through the wood on the right. They are 
 coming across the heath — I wiU draw up opposite to 
 them. George, stay by me — when you see them 
 attack me, then fall upon their flank : we'll beat the 
 knaves into a mummy — they little think we can face 
 them. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene XII. — A Heath. On one side an Eminence 
 with a ruined Tower, on the other the Forest. 
 
 Enter, marching, the Captain of the Imperialists with 
 Officers and his Squadron. — Drums and stand- 
 ards. 
 
 Captain. He halts upon the heath ! that's too 
 impudent. He shall smart for it — what ! not fear the 
 torrent that threatens to overwhelm him !
 
 304 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Officer. I had rather you did not head the troops : 
 he looks as if he meant to plant the first that comes 
 upon him in the mire with his head downmost. 
 Prithee ride in the rear. 
 
 Captain. Not so. 
 
 Officer. I entreat you. You are the knot which 
 unites this bundle of hazel-twigs : loose it, and he will 
 break them separately Uke so many reeds. 
 
 Captain. Sound, trumpeter — and let us blow him 
 to hell ! [^ charge sounded. Exeunt in full career. 
 
 Selbitz, loith his Troopers, comes from behind the hill 
 galloping. 
 
 Selbitz. Follow me ! They shall wish that they 
 could multiply their hands. 
 
 \^They gallop across the stage, et exeunt. 
 
 Loud alarm. Lerse and his party sally from the wood. 
 
 Lerse. Ho ! to the rescue ! Goetz is almost sur- 
 rounded. — Gallant Selbitz, thou hast cut thy way — 
 we will sow the heath with these thistle-heads. 
 
 [^Gallop off. 
 
 A loud alarm with shouting and firing for some minutes. 
 Selbitz is borne in wounded, by two Troopers. 
 
 Selbitz. Leave me here, and hasten to Goetz. 
 
 First Trooper. Let us stay, sir — -you need our 
 aid. 
 
 Selbitz. Get one of you on the watch-tower, and 
 tell me how it goes. 
 
 First Trooper. How shall I get up ? 
 
 Second Trooper. Mount upon my shoulders — you 
 can then reach the ruined part, and thence scramble up 
 to the opening. 
 
 [First Trooper gets up into the tower. 
 
 First Trooper. Alas, sir !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 305 
 
 Selbitz. What seest thou ? 
 
 First Trooper. Your troopers fly toward the hill. 
 
 Selbitz. Kascally cowards ! — I would that they 
 stood their ground, and I had a ball through my head. 
 — Ride, one of you, full speed — Curse and thunder 
 them back to the field — Seest thou Goetz ? 
 
 \_Exit Second Trooper. 
 
 Trooper. I see his three black feathers floating in 
 the midst of the wavy tumult. 
 
 Selbitz. Swim, brave swimmer — I he here. 
 
 Trooper. A white plume — whose is that ? 
 
 Selbitz. The captain's. 
 
 Trooper. Goetz gallops upon him — crash ! Down 
 he goes. 
 
 Selbitz. The captain ? 
 
 Trooper. Yes, sir. 
 
 Selbitz. Hurrah! Hurrah! 
 
 Trooper. Alas ! alas ! I see Goetz no more. 
 
 Selbitz. Then die, Selbitz ! 
 
 Trooper. A dreadful tumult where he stood — 
 George's blue plume vanishes too. 
 
 Selbitz. Come down ! Dost thou not see Lerse ? 
 
 Trooper. No. — Everything is in confusion. 
 
 Selbitz. No more. Come down. — How do Sick- 
 ingen's men bear themselves ? 
 
 Trooper. Well ; one of them flies to the wood — 
 another — another — a whole troop. Goetz is lost ! 
 
 Selbitz. Come down. 
 
 Trooper. I cannot — Hurrah ! hurrah ! I see 
 Goetz, I see George. 
 
 Selbitz. On horseback ? 
 
 Trooper. Ay, ay, high on horseback — Victory ! 
 victory ! — they flee. 
 
 Selbitz. The Imperiahsts ? 
 
 Trooper. Y^es, standard and all, Goetz behind 
 them. They disperse — Goetz reaches the ensign — 
 he seizes the standard: he halts. A handful of men
 
 3o6 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 rally round him — My comrade reaches him — they 
 come this way. 
 
 Enter Goetz, Geoege, Lekse, and Troopers, on horse- 
 back. 
 
 Selbitz. Joy to thee, Goetz ! — Victory ! victory ! 
 
 Goetz {dismounting). Dearly, dearly bought. Thou 
 art wounded, Selbitz ! 
 
 Selbitz. But thou dost live and hast conquered ! 
 I have done little ; and my dogs of troopers ! How 
 hast thou come off ? 
 
 Goetz. For the present, well ! And here I thank 
 George, and thee, Lerse, for my life. I unhorsed the 
 captain : they stabbed my horse, and pressed me hard. 
 George cut his way to me, and sprang off his horse. I 
 threw myself like lightning upon it, and he appeared 
 suddenly like a thunderbolt upon another. How 
 camest thou by thy steed ? 
 
 George. A fellow struck at you from behind : as 
 he raised his cuirass in the act, I stabbed him with 
 my dagger. Down he came ; and so I rid you of an 
 enemy, and helped myself to a horse. 
 
 Goetz. There we held together till Francis here 
 came to our help, and thereupon we mowed our way 
 out. 
 
 Lerse. The hounds whom I led were to have 
 mowed their way in, till our scythes met ; but they 
 fled hke Imperialists. 
 
 Goetz. Friend and foe all fled, except this little 
 band who protected my rear. I had enough to do 
 with the fellows in front, but the fall of their captain 
 dismayed them : they wavered and fled. I have their 
 banner, and a few prisoners. 
 
 Selbitz. The captain has escaped you ? 
 
 Goetz. They rescued him in the scuffle. Come, 
 lads, come, Selbitz. — Make a Utter of lances and 
 boughs: thou canst not mount a horse, come to my
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 307 
 
 castle. They are scattered, but we are very few ; and 
 I know not what troops they may have in reserve. I 
 will be your host, my friends. Wine will taste well 
 after such an action. lUxeunt, carrying Selbitz. 
 
 Scene XIII. — TJie Camp. 
 
 The Captain and Imperialists. 
 
 Captain. I could kill you all with my own hand. 
 — What ! to turn tail ! He had not a handful of men 
 left. To give way before one man ! No one will 
 beheve it but those who wish to make a jest of us. 
 Ride round the country, you, and you, and you : collect 
 our scattered soldiers, or cut them down wherever you 
 find them. We must grind these notches out of our 
 blades, even should we spoil our swords in the opera- 
 tion. [Uxeunt. 
 
 Scene XIV. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 GoETZ, Lerse, and George. 
 
 GoETZ. We must not lose a moment. My poor 
 fellows, I dare allow you no rest. Gallop round and 
 strive to enlist troopers, appoint them to assemble at 
 Weilern, where they will be most secure. Should we 
 delay a moment, they will be before the castle. — (Ux- 
 eunt Lerse and George.) — I must send out a scout. 
 This begins to grow warm. — If we had but brave foe- 
 men to deal with ! But these fellows are formidable 
 only through their number. [^xit. 
 
 Enter Sickingen and Maria. 
 
 Maria. I beseech thee, dear Sickingen, do not 
 leave my brother ! His horsemen, your own, and 
 those of Selbitz, all are scattered : he is alone. Selbitz
 
 3o8 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 has been carried home to his castle wounded. I fear 
 the worst. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Be comforted : I will not leave him. 
 
 Enter GoETZ. 
 
 GoETZ. Come to the chapel, the priest waits : in a 
 few minutes you shall be united. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Let me remain with you. 
 
 GoETZ. You must come now to the chapel. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Willingly ! — and then — 
 
 GoETZ. Then you go your way. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Goetz ! 
 
 GoETZ. Will you not to the chapel ? 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Come, come ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene XV. — Camp. 
 
 Captain and Officeks. 
 
 Captain. How many are we in all ? 
 
 Offices. A hundred and fifty — 
 
 Captain. Out of four hundred. — That is bad. Set 
 out for Jaxthausen at once, before he recovers, and 
 attacks us once more. 
 
 Scene XVI. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Goetz, Elizabeth, Makia, and Sickingen. 
 
 Goetz. God bless you, give you happy days, and 
 keep those for your children which he denies to you ! 
 
 Elizabeth. And may they be virtuous as you — 
 then let come what will. 
 
 Sickingen. I thank you. — And you, my Maria! 
 As I led you to the altar, so shall you lead me to hap- 
 piness.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 309"^ 
 
 Makia. Our pilgiimage will be together toward 
 that distant and promised land. 
 
 GoETZ. A prosperous journey. 
 
 Maeia. That was not what I meant — we do not 
 leave you. 
 
 GoETZ. You must, sister. 
 
 Maeia. You are very harsh, brother. 
 
 GoETZ. And you more affectionate than prudent. 
 
 Enter George. 
 
 George {aside to Gd^Tz). I can collect no troopers : 
 one was inclined to come, but he changed his mind, 
 and refused. 
 
 GoETZ {to George). 'Tis well, George. Fortune 
 begins to look coldly on me. I foreboded it, however. 
 {Aloud) Sickingen, I entreat you, depart this very 
 evening. Persuade Maria. — You are her husband: 
 let her feel it. When women come across our under- 
 takings, our enemies are more secure in the open field, 
 than they would else be in their castles. 
 
 Enter a Trooper. 
 
 Trooper {aside to Goetz). The Imperial squadron 
 is in full and rapid march hither. 
 
 GoETZ. I have roused them with stripes of the rod ! 
 How many are they ? 
 
 Trooper. About two hundred. They can scarcely 
 be six miles from us. 
 
 GoETZ. Have they passed the river yet ? 
 
 Trooper. No, my lord. 
 
 GoETZ. Had I but fifty men, they should not cross 
 it. Hast thou seen Lerse ? 
 
 Trooper, No, my lord. 
 
 GoETZ, Tell all to hold themselves ready. We 
 must part, dear friends. Weep on, my gentle Maria. 
 Many a moment of happiness is yet in store for thee. 
 It is better thou shouldst weep on thy wedding-day,
 
 3IO GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 than that present joy should be the forerunner of 
 future misery. Farewell, Maria ! — Farewell, brother ! 
 
 Maria. I cannot leave you, sister. Dear brother, 
 let us stay. Dost thou value my husband so little as 
 to refuse his help in thy extremity ? 
 
 GoETZ. Yes : it is gone far with me. Perhaps my 
 fall is near. You are but beginning life, and should 
 separate your lot from mine. I have ordered your 
 horses to be saddled : you must away instantly. 
 
 Maria. Brother ! brother ! 
 
 Elizabeth {to Sickingen). Yield to his wishes. 
 Speak to her. 
 
 Sickingen. Dear Maria ! we must go. 
 
 Maria. Thou too ? My heart will break ! 
 
 GoETZ. Then, stay. In a few hours my castle will 
 be surrounded. 
 
 Maria {weeping Utterly). Alas ! alas ! 
 
 Goetz. We will defend ourselves as long as we 
 can. 
 
 Maria. Mother of God, have mercy upon us. 
 
 Goetz. And at last we must die or surrender. 
 Thy tears will then have involved thy noble husband 
 in the same misfortune with me. 
 
 Maria. Thou torturest me ! 
 
 Goetz. Remain ! Remain ! We shall be taken to- 
 gether ! Sickingen, thou wilt fall with me into the 
 pit, out of which I had hoped thou shouldst have 
 helped me. 
 
 Maria. We will away — Sister — sister ! 
 
 Goetz. Place her in safety, and then think of me. 
 
 Sickingen. Never will I repose a night by her side 
 till I know thou art out of danger. 
 
 Goetz. Sister ! dear sister. [^Kisses her. 
 
 Sickingen. Away ! away ! 
 
 Goetz. Yet one moment ! I shall see you again. 
 Be comforted, we shall meet again. {Exeunt Sickingen 
 and Maria.) I urged her to depart — yet now that
 
 GDETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 311 
 
 she leaves me, what would I not give to detain her ! 
 EHzabeth, thou stayest with me. 
 
 Elizabeth. Till death ! \^Exit. 
 
 GoETZ. Whom God loves, to him may He give such 
 a wife. 
 
 Enter Geokge. 
 
 George. They are near ! I perceived them from 
 the tower. The sun is rising, and I saw their lances 
 glitter. I cared no more for them than a cat would 
 for a whole army of mice. It is we, though, who act 
 the rats in this play. 
 
 GoETZ. Look to the fastenings of the gates : barri- 
 cade them with beams and stones. (Exit George.) 
 We'll exercise their patience, and they may chew away 
 their valour in biting their nails. {A trumpet from 
 without. Goetz goes to the window.) Aha ! Here 
 comes a red-coated rascal to ask me whether I will be a 
 scoundrel ! What says he ? {The voice of the Herald 
 is heard indistinctly, as from a distance. Goetz mut- 
 ters to himself.) A rope for thy throat ! ( Voice again.) 
 " Offended majesty ! " — Some priest has drawn up that 
 proclamation. ( Voice concludes, and Goetz ansivers 
 from the window.) Surrender — surrender at discre- 
 tion ! With whom speak you ? Am I a robber ? Tell 
 your captain, that for the emperor I entertain, as I have 
 ever done, all due respect ; but, as for him, he may — 
 [Shuts the window with violence. 
 
 Scene XVIL — ^e Kitchen. 
 
 Elizabeth preparing food. Enter Goetz. 
 
 Goetz. You have hard work, my poor wife ! 
 Elizabeth. Would it might last ! But you can 
 hardly hold out long. 
 
 Goetz. We have not had time to provide ourselves.
 
 312 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Elizabeth. And so many people as you have been 
 wont to entertain. The wine is well-nigh finished. 
 
 GoETZ. If we can but hold out a certain time, they 
 must propose a capitulation. We are doing them some 
 damage, I promise you. They shoot the whole day, 
 and only wound our walls and break our windows. 
 Lerse is a gallant fellow. He shps about with his gun : 
 if a rogue comes too nigh — Pop ! there he lies ! 
 
 [Firing^ 
 
 Enter Trooper. 
 
 Trooper. We want live coals, precious lady ! 
 GoETZ. For what? 
 
 Trooper. Our bullets are spent : we must cast some 
 new ones. 
 
 GoETZ. How goes it with the powder ? 
 Trooper. There is as yet no want : we save our 
 fire. 
 
 [Firing at intervals. Exeunt Goetz and Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 Enter Lerse with a huUet-mould. Servants with coals. 
 
 Lerse. Set them down, and then go and see for lead 
 about the house : meanwhile I will make shift with 
 this. (^Goes to the window, and takes ant the leaden 
 frames.) Everything must be turned to account. So 
 it is in this world — no one knows what a thing may 
 come to : the glazier who made these frames little 
 thought that the lead here was to give one of his 
 grandsons his last headache ; and the father that begot 
 me little knew whether the fowls of heaven or the 
 worms of the earth would pick my bones. 
 
 Enter George with a leaden spout.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 313 
 
 Geokge. Here's lead for thee ! If you hit with only 
 half of it, not one will return to tell his Majesty " Thy 
 servants have sped ill ! " 
 
 Lerse {cutting it down). A famous piece ! 
 
 Geoege. The rain must seek some other way. I'm 
 not afraid of it — a brave trooper and a smart shower 
 will always find their road. \_Tl^ey cast halls. 
 
 Lekse. Hold the ladle. {Goes to the window.) 
 Yonder is a fellow creeping about with his rifle: he 
 thinks our fire is spent. He shall have a bullet warm 
 from the pan. [^He loads his rifie. 
 
 George {'puts down the mould). Let me see. 
 
 Lerse. {Fires.) There lies the game ! 
 
 George. He fired at me as I stepped out on the 
 roof to get the lead. He killed a pigeon that sat near 
 me : it fell into the spout. I thanked him for my din- 
 ner, and went back with the double booty. 
 
 [They cast halls. 
 
 Lerse. Now let us load, and go through the castle 
 to earn our dinner. 
 
 Enter Goetz. 
 
 GoETZ. Stay, Lerse, I must speak with thee. I 
 will not keep thee, George, from the sport. 
 
 [Exit George. 
 
 Goetz. They offer terms. 
 
 Lerse. I will go and hear what they have to say. 
 
 Goetz. They will require me to enter myself into 
 ward in some town on my knightly parole. 
 
 Lerse. That won't do. Suppose they allow us free 
 liberty of departure ? for we can expect no rehef from 
 Sickingen. We will bury all the valuables where no 
 divining-rod shall find them ; leave them the bare 
 walls, and come out with flying colours. 
 
 Goetz. They will not permit us. 
 
 Lerse. It is worth the asking. We will demand a 
 safe conduct, and I wiU sally out.
 
 314 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Scene XVIIL — ^ Hall. 
 
 GoETZ, Elizabeth, George, and Troopers at table. 
 
 GoETZ. Danger unites us, my friends ! Be of good 
 cheer : don't forget the bottle ! The flask is empty. 
 Come, another, dear wife ! (Elizabeth shakes her 
 head.) Is there no more ? 
 
 Elizabeth (aside). Only one, which I have set 
 apart for you. 
 
 Goetz. Not so, my love ! Bring it out : they need 
 strengthening more than I, for it is my quarrel. 
 
 Elizabeth. Fetch it from the cupboard. 
 
 Goetz. It is the last, and I feel as if we need not 
 spare it. It is long since I have been so merry. {Tliey 
 fill) To the health of the emperor ! 
 
 All. Long hve the emperor ! 
 
 Goetz. Be it our last word when we die ! I love 
 him, for our fate is similar ; but I am happier than he. 
 To please the princes, he must direct his imperial 
 squadrons against mice, while the rats gnaw his pos- 
 sessions. — I know he often wishes himself dead, 
 rather than to be any longer the soul of such a crip- 
 pled body. {They fill.) It will just go once more 
 round. And when our blood runs low, like this flask ; 
 when we pour out its last ebbing drop {empties the wine 
 drop hy drop into his goblet), — what then shaU be our 
 cry? 
 
 George. Freedom for ever ! 
 
 Goetz. Freedom for ever ! 
 
 All. Freedom for ever ! 
 
 Goetz. And, if that survive us, we can die happy ; 
 for our spirits shall see our children's children and 
 their emperor happy! Did the servants of princes 
 show the same filial attachment to their masters as 
 you to me — did their masters serve the emperor as 
 I would serve him —
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 315 
 
 George. Things would be widely different. 
 
 GoETZ. Not so much so as it would appear. Have 
 I not known worthy men among the princes ? And can 
 the race be extinct ? Men, happy in their own minds 
 and in their subjects, who could bear a free, noble 
 brother in their neighbourhood without harbouring 
 either fear or envy ; whose hearts expanded when they 
 saw their table surrounded by their free equals, and 
 who did not think the knights unfit companions till 
 they had degraded themselves by courtly homage. 
 
 George. Have you known such princes ? 
 
 GoETZ. Ay, truly. As long as I live I shall recol- 
 lect how the Landgrave of Hanau gave a grand hunt- 
 ing-party, and the princes and free feudatories dined 
 under the open heaven, and the country people all 
 thronged to see them : it was no selfish masquerade 
 instituted for his own private pleasure or vanity. To 
 see the great round-headed peasant lads and the pretty 
 brown girls, the sturdy hinds, and the venerable old 
 men, a crowd of happy faces, aU as merry as if they 
 rejoiced in the splendour of their master, which he 
 shared with them under God's free sky ! 
 
 George. He must have been as good a master as 
 you. 
 
 GoETZ. And may we not hope that many such will 
 rule together some future day, to whom reverence for 
 the emperor, peace and friendship with their neighbours, 
 and the love of their vassals, shall be the best and 
 dearest family treasure handed down to their children's 
 children ? Every one wiU then keep and improve his 
 own, instead of reckoning nothing as gain that is not 
 stolen from his neighbours. 
 
 George. And should we have no more forays ? 
 
 GoETZ. Would to God there were no restless spirits 
 in all Germany ! — we should still have enough to do ! 
 We would clear the mountains of wolves, and bring 
 our peaceable laborious neighbour a dish of game from
 
 3i6 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 the wood, and eat it together. Were that not full em- 
 ployment, we would join our brethren, and, like cheru- 
 bims with flaming swords, defend the frontiers of the 
 empire against those wolves the Turks, and those foxes 
 the French, and guard for our beloved emperor both 
 extremities of his extensive empire. That would be a 
 life, George ! To risk one's head for the safety of all 
 Germany. (Geoege springs up) Whither away ? 
 
 George. Alas ! I forgot we were besieged — be- 
 sieged by the very emperor ; and, before we can expose 
 our hves in his defence, we must risk them for our 
 liberty. 
 
 (tOetz. Be of good cheer. 
 
 Enter Lerse. 
 
 Lerse. Freedom ! freedom ! The cowardly pol- 
 troons — the hesitating, irresolute asses. You are to 
 depart with men, weapons, horses, and armour : pro- 
 visions you are to leave behind. 
 
 GoETZ. They will hardly find enough to exercise 
 their jaws. 
 
 Lekse {aside to Goetz). Have you hidden the plate 
 and money ? 
 
 Goetz. No ! Wife, go with Lerse : he has some- 
 thing to tell thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene XIX. — The Court of the Castle. 
 
 George {in the stable. Sings). 
 
 An urchin once, as I have heard. 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 Had caught and caged a httle bird, 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Sa! sa!
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 317 
 
 He viewed the prize with heart elate, 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 Thrust in his hand — ah, treacherous fate ! 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 Away the titmouse winged its flight, 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 And laughed to scorn the silly wight, 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 
 Enter Goetz. 
 
 GoETZ. How goes it ? 
 
 George (brings out his horse). All saddled. 
 
 Goetz. Thou art quick. 
 
 Geoege. As the bird escaped from the cage. 
 
 Enter all the besieged. 
 
 GoETZ. Have you all your rifles ? Not yet ! Go, 
 take the best from the armory ; it is all one : we'll ride 
 on in advance. 
 
 Geoege (sings). 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Sa! sa! 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Scene XX. — 77ie Armory. 
 
 Two Troopers choosing guns. 
 
 First Trooper. I'll have this one. 
 Second Trooper. And I this — but yonder's a 
 better.
 
 3i8 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 FiEST Trooper. Never mind — make haste. 
 
 [Tumult and firing without. 
 
 Second Trooper. Hark ! 
 
 First Trooper {springs to the window). Good heav- 
 ens, they are murdering our master ! He is unhorsed ! 
 George is down. 
 
 Second Trooper. How shall we get off? Over 
 the wall by the walnut-tree, and into the field. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 First Trooper. Lerse keeps his ground : I will to 
 him. If they die, I will not survive them. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I, — An Inn in the City of Heilhronn. 
 
 GoETZ (solus). 
 
 GoETZ. I am like the evil spirit whom the Capu- 
 chin conjured into a sack. I fret and labour, but all in 
 vain. The perjured villains ! (Enter Elizabeth.) What 
 news, Elizabeth, of my dear, my trusty followers ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Nothing certain : some are slain, some 
 are prisoners ; no one could or would tell me further 
 particulars. 
 
 GoETZ. Is this the reward of fidelity, of fihal obe- 
 dience ? — " That it may be well with thee, and that 
 thy days may be long in the land ! " 
 
 Elizabeth. Dear husband, murmur not against our 
 heavenly Father. They have their reward. It was 
 born with them, — a noble and generous heart. Even 
 in the dungeon they are free. Pay attention to the 
 imperial commissioners: their heavy gold chains be- 
 come them — 
 
 GoETZ. As a necklace becomes a sow ! I should 
 like to see George and Lerse in fetters ! 
 
 Elizabeth. It were a sight to make angels weep.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 319 
 
 GOETZ. I would not weep — I would clinch my 
 teeth, and gnaw my lip in fury. What ! in fetters ? 
 Had ye but loved me less, dear lads ! I could never 
 look at them enough . . . What ! to break their word, 
 pledged in the name of the emperor ! 
 
 Elizabeth. Put away these thoughts. Eeflect : 
 you must appear before the council — you are in no 
 mood to meet them, and I fear the worst. 
 
 GoETZ. What harm can they do me ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Here comes the sergeant. 
 
 GoETZ. What ! the ass of justice that carries the 
 sacks to the mill and the dung to the field ? What 
 now ? 
 
 Enter Sergeant. 
 
 Sergeant. The lords commissioners are at the 
 Council House, and require your presence. 
 GoETZ. I come. 
 Sergeant. I am to escort you. 
 GoETZ. Too much honour. 
 Elizabeth. Be but cool. 
 GoETZ. Fear nothing. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Town House at Heilhronn.. 
 
 The Imperial Commissioners seated at a tahle. The 
 Captain and the Magistrates of the city attending. 
 
 Magistrate. In pursuance of your order, we have 
 collected the stoutest and most determined of our citi- 
 zens. They are at hand, in order, at a nod from you, 
 to seize Berhchingen. 
 
 Commissioner. We shall have much pleasure iu 
 communicating to his Imperial Majesty the zeal with 
 which you have obeyed his illustrious commands. — 
 Are they artisans ?
 
 320 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Magistkate. Smiths, coopers, and carpenters, men 
 with hands hardened by labour ; and resolute here. 
 
 [Points to his hreast. 
 Commissioner. 'Tis well. 
 
 Unter Seegeant. 
 
 Sergeant. Goetz von Berhchingen waits without. 
 Commissioner. Admit him. 
 
 Unter Goetz. 
 
 Goetz. God save you, sirs ! What would you with 
 me? 
 
 Commissioner. First, that you consider where you 
 are, and in whose presence. 
 
 Goetz. By my faith, I know you right well, sirs. 
 
 Commissioner. You acknowledge allegiance. 
 
 Goetz. With all my heart. 
 
 Commissioner. Be seated. 
 
 Goetz. What, down there ? I'd rather stand. That 
 stool smells so of poor sinners, as indeed does the 
 whole apartment. 
 
 Commissioner. Stand, then. 
 
 Goetz. To business, if you please. 
 
 Commissioner. We shall proceed in due order. 
 
 Goetz. I am glad to hear it. Would you had 
 always done so. 
 
 Commissioner. You know how you fell into our 
 hands, and are a prisoner at discretion. 
 
 Goetz. What will you give me to forget it ? 
 
 Commissioner. Could I give you modesty, I should 
 better your affairs. 
 
 Goetz. . Better my affairs ! could you but do that ! 
 To repair is more difficult than to destroy. 
 
 Secretary, Shall I put all this on record ? 
 
 Commissioner. Only what is to the purpose. 
 
 Goetz. You may put it in print, if you hke : what 
 do I caite !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 321 
 
 Commissioner. You fell into the power of the 
 emperor, whose paternal goodness got the better of his 
 justice, and, instead of throwing you into a dungeon, 
 ordered you to repair to his beloved city of Heilbronn. 
 You gave your knightly parole to appear, and await 
 the termination in all humihty. 
 
 GoETZ. Well : I am here, and await it. 
 
 Commissioner. And we are here to intimate to you 
 his Imperial Majesty's mercy and clemency. He is 
 pleased to forgive your rebellion, to release you from 
 the ban and all well-merited punishment, provided you 
 do, with becoming humility, receive his bounty, and 
 subscribe to the articles which shall be read unto you. 
 
 GoETZ. I am his Majesty's faithful servant, as ever. 
 One word ere you proceed. My people — where are 
 they ? What wiU be done with them ? 
 
 Commissioner. That concerns you not. 
 
 GoETZ. So may the emperor turn his face from you 
 in the hour of your need. They were my comrades, 
 and are so now. What have you done with them ? 
 
 Commissioner. We are not bound to account to 
 you. 
 
 GoETZ. Ah ! I forgot that you are not even pledged 
 to perform what you have promised, much less — 
 
 Commissioner. Our business is, to lay the articles 
 before you. Submit yourself to the emperor, and you 
 may find a way to petition for the life and freedom of 
 your comrades. 
 
 Goetz. Your paper. 
 
 Commissioner. Secretary, read it. 
 
 Secretary {reads). " I, Goetz of Berlichingen, make 
 public acknowledgment, by these presents, that I, hav- 
 ing lately risen in rebellion against the emperor and 
 empire — " 
 
 Goetz. 'Tis false ! I am no rebel, I have committed 
 no offence against the emperor, and with the empire I 
 have no concern.
 
 32 2 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Commissioner. Be silent, and hear further. 
 
 GoETZ. I will hear no further. Let any one arise 
 and bear witness. Have I ever taken one step against 
 the emperor, or against the house of Austria ? Has not 
 the whole tenor of my conduct proved that I feel 
 better than any one else what all Germany owes to 
 its head, and especially what the free knights and 
 feudatories owe to their liege lord the emperor ? I 
 should be a villain could I be induced to subscribe 
 that paper. 
 
 Commissioner. Yet we have strict orders to try 
 and persuade you by fair means, or, in case of your 
 refusal, to throw you into prison. 
 
 GoETZ. Into prison ! — Me ? 
 
 Commissioner. Where you may expect your fate 
 from the hands of justice, since you will not take it 
 from those of mercy. 
 
 Goetz. To prison ! You abuse the imperial power ! 
 To prison ! That was not the emperor's command. 
 What, ye traitors, to dig a pit for me, and hang out 
 your oath, your knightly honour, as the bait ! To prom- 
 ise me permission to ward myself on parole, and then 
 again to break your treaty ! 
 
 Commissioner. We owe no faith to robbers. 
 
 Goetz. Wert thou not the representative of my 
 sovereign, whom I respect even in the vilest counter- 
 feit, thou shouldst swallow that word, or choke upon it. 
 I was engaged in an honourable feud. Thou mightest 
 thank God, and magnify thyself before the world, hadst 
 thou ever done as gallant a deed as that with which I 
 now stand charged. {Tlie Commissioner makes a sign 
 to the Magistrate of Heilhronn, ivho rings a hell.) Not 
 for the sake of paltry gain, not to wrest followers or 
 lands from the weak and the defenceless, have I sallied 
 forth. To rescue my page and defend my own person 
 — see ye any rebellion in that ? The emperor and 
 his magnates, reposing on their pillows, would never
 
 imMmimBkiBaim^ 
 
 nohi'jH.;!.".], r,s
 
 Gocfi Resists Arrest 
 
 Photogravure from the painting by B. Knupfer, in Diisseldorf 
 Gallery '
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 323 
 
 have felt our need. I have, God be praised, one hand 
 left ; and I have done well to use it. 
 
 Enter a party of Artisans armed with halberds and 
 swords. 
 
 GoETZ. What means this ? 
 
 Commissioner. You will not hsten. — Seize him ! 
 
 GoETZ. Let none come near me who is not a very- 
 Hungarian ox. One salutation from my iron fist shall 
 cure him of headache, toothache, and every other ache 
 under the wide heaven ! {They rvsh upon him. He 
 strikes one down, and snatches a sword from another. 
 They stand aloof.) Come on ! come on ! I should 
 like to become acquainted with the bravest among you. 
 
 Commissioner. Surrender ! 
 
 GoETZ. With a sword in my hand ! Know ye not 
 that it depends but upon myself to make way through 
 all these hares and gain the open field ? But I will 
 teach you how a man should keep his word. Promise 
 me but free ward, and I will give up my sword, and 
 am again your prisoner. 
 
 Commissioner. How! Would you treat with the 
 emperor, sword in hand ? 
 
 GoETZ. God forbid ! — only with you and your 
 worthy fraternity ! You may go home, good people : 
 you are only losing your time, and here there is nothing 
 to be got but bruises. 
 
 Commissioner. Seize him ! What ! does not your 
 love for the emperor supply you with courage ? 
 
 Goetz. ■ No more than the emperor supplies them 
 with plaster for the wounds their courage would earn 
 them. 
 
 Enter Sergeant hastily. 
 
 Officer. The warder has just discovered, from the 
 castle tower, a troop of more than two hundred horse-
 
 324 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 men hastening toward tlie town. Unperceived by us, 
 they have pressed forward from behind the hill, and 
 threaten our walls. 
 
 Commissioner. Alas ! alas ! What can this mean ? 
 
 A Soldier enters. 
 
 Soldier. Francis of Sickingen waits at the draw- 
 bridge, and informs you that he has heard how per- 
 fidiously you have broken your word to his brother-in- 
 law, and how the Council of Heilbronn have aided and 
 abetted in the treason. He is now come to insist upon 
 justice, and, if refused it, threatens, within an hour, to 
 fire the four quarters of your town, and abandon it 
 to be plundered by his vassals. 
 
 GoETZ. My gallant brother ! 
 
 Commissioner. Withdraw, Goetz, {Exit Goetz.) 
 What is to be done ? 
 
 Magistrate. Have compassion upon us and our 
 town ! Sickingen is inexorable in his wrath : he will 
 keep his word. 
 
 Commissioner. Shall we forget what is due to our- 
 selves and the emperor ? 
 
 Captain. If we had but men to enforce it ; but, 
 situated as we are, a show of resistance would only 
 make matters worse. It is better for us to yield. 
 
 Magistrate. Let us apply to Goetz to put in a 
 good word for us. I feel as though I saw the town 
 abeady in flames. 
 
 Commissioner. Let Goetz approach. {Enter Goetz.) 
 
 Goetz. What now ? 
 
 Commissioner. Thou wilt do well to dissuade thy 
 brother-in-law from his rebellious interference. In- 
 stead of rescuing thee, he will only plunge thee deeper 
 in destruction, and become the companion of thy fall ! 
 
 Goetz {sees Elizabeth at the door, and speaks to her 
 aside). Go, tell him instantly to break in and force 
 his way hither, but to spare the town. As for these
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 325 
 
 rascals, if they offer any resistance, let him use force. 
 I care not if I lose my life, provided they are all 
 knocked on the head at the same time. 
 
 Scene III. — A large Hall in the Council-House, 
 beset by Sickingen's Troops. 
 
 Enter Sickingen and Goetz. 
 
 GoETZ. That was help from heaven. How camest 
 thou so opportunely and unexpectedly, brother ? 
 
 Sickingen. Without witchcraft. I had despatched 
 two or three messengers to learn how it fared with 
 thee : when I heard of the perjury of these fellows, 
 I set out instantly ; and now we have them safe. 
 
 Goetz. I ask nothing but knightly ward upon my 
 parole. 
 
 Sickingen. You are too noble. Not even to avail 
 yourself of the advantage which the honest man has 
 over the perjurer ! They are in the wrong, and we will 
 not give them cushions to sit upon. They have shame- 
 fully abused the imperial authority ; and, if I know 
 anything of the emperor, you might safely insist upon 
 more favourable terms. You ask too httle. 
 
 Goetz. I have ever been content with little. 
 
 Sickingen. And therefore that little has always 
 been denied thee. My proposal is, that they shall 
 release your servants, and permit you all to return to 
 your castle on parole — you can promise not to leave 
 it till the emperor's pleasure be known. You wUl be 
 safer there than here. 
 
 Goetz. They will say my property is escheated to 
 the emperor. 
 
 Sickingen. Then we will answer, thou canst dwell 
 there, and keep it for his service till he restores it to 
 thee again. Let them wriggle like eels in the net,
 
 326 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 they shall not escape us ! They may talk of the 
 imperial dignity — of their commission. We will not 
 mind that. I know the emperor, and have some 
 influence with him. He has ever wished to have thee 
 in his service. You vvdll not be long in your castle 
 without being summoned to serve him. 
 
 GoETZ. God grant it, ere I forget the use of arms ! 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Valour can never be forgotten, as it 
 can never be learnt. Fear nothing ! When thy affairs 
 are settled, I will repair to court, where my enterprises 
 begin to ripen. Good fortune seems to smile on them. 
 I want only to sound the emperor's mind. The towns 
 of Triers and Pfalz as soon expect that the sky should 
 fall, as that I shall come down upon their heads. But 
 I will come like a hail-storm ! and, if I am successful, 
 thou shalt soon be brother to an elector. I had hoped 
 for thy assistance in this undertaking. 
 
 GoETZ (looks at his hand). Oh ! that explains the 
 dream I had the night before I promised Maria to 
 Weislingen. I thought he vowed eternal fidehty, and 
 held my iron hand so fast that it loosened from the 
 arm. Alas! I am at this moment more defenceless 
 than when it was shot away. Weislingen ! Weishngen ! 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Forget the traitor ! We will thwart his 
 plans, and undermine his authority, till shame and 
 remorse shall gnaw him to death. I see, I see the 
 downfall of our enemies. — Goetz, only other six 
 months ! 
 
 Goetz. Thy soul soars high! I know not why, 
 but for some time past no fair prospects have dawned 
 upon me. I have been ere now in sore distress — I 
 have been a prisoner before — but never did I experi- 
 ence such a depression. 
 
 SiCKiNGEN. Success givcs courage. Come, let us 
 to the bigwigs. They have had time enough for hold- 
 ing forth : let us for once take the trouble upon our- 
 selves. \_Exeunt.
 
 I 
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 327 
 
 Scene IV. — TJie Castle of Adelaide, Augshirg. 
 
 Adelaide and Weislingen discovered. 
 
 Adelaide. This is detestable. 
 
 Weislingen. I have gnashed my teeth. So good 
 a plan — so well followed out — and, after all, to 
 leave him in possession of his castle ! That cursed 
 Sickingen ! 
 
 Adelaide. The council should not have consented. 
 
 Weislingen. They were in the net. What else 
 could they do? Sickingen threatened them with fire 
 and sword — the haughty, vindictive man ! I hate 
 him ! His power waxes like a mountain torrent — let 
 it but gain a few brooks, and others come pouring to 
 its aid. 
 
 Adelaide, Have they no emperor ? 
 
 Weislingen. My dear wife, he waxes old and 
 feeble : he is only the shadow of what he was. When 
 he heard what had been done, and 1 and the other 
 counsellors murmured indignantly, " Let them alone ! " 
 said he : "I can spare my old Goetz his little fortress ; 
 and, if he remains quiet there, what have you to say 
 against him ? " We spoke of the welfare of the state : 
 *' Oh," said he, " that I had always had counsellors who 
 would have urged my restless spirit to consult more 
 the happiness of individuals ! " 
 
 Adelaide. He has lost the spirit of a prince ! 
 
 Weislingen. We inveighed against Sickingen ! — 
 " He is my faithful servant," said he : " and, if he has 
 not acted by my express order, he has performed better 
 what I wished than my plenipotentiaries ; and I can 
 ratify what he has done as well after as before." 
 
 Adelaide. 'Tis enough to drive one mad. 
 
 Weislingen. Yet I have not given up all hope. 
 Goetz is on parole to remain quiet in his castle. 'Tis
 
 328 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 impossible for him to keep his promise, and we shall 
 soon have some new cause of complaint. 
 
 Adelaide. That is the more likely, as we may 
 hope that the old emperor will soon leave the world ; 
 and Charles, his gallant successor, will display a more 
 princely mind. 
 
 Weislingen. Charles ! He is neither chosen nor 
 crowned. 
 
 Adelaide. Who does not expect and hope for that 
 event ? 
 
 Weislingen. You have a great idea of his abihties : 
 one might almost think you looked on him with partial 
 eyes. 
 
 Adelaide. You insult me, Weislingen. For what 
 do you take me ? 
 
 Weislingen. I do not mean to offend, but I can- 
 not be silent upon the subject. Charles's marked at- 
 tentions to you disquiet me. 
 
 Adelaide. And do I receive them as — 
 
 Weislingen. You are a woman, and no woman 
 hates those who pay their court to her. 
 
 Adelaide. This from you ! 
 
 Weislingen. It cuts me to the heart — the dreadful 
 thought — Adelaide. 
 
 Adelaide. Can I not cure thee of this folly ? 
 
 Weislingen. If thou wouldst — Thou canst leave 
 the court. 
 
 Adelaide. But upon what pretence? Art thou 
 not here ? Must I leave you and all my friends, to 
 shut myself up with the owls in your solitary castle ? 
 No, Weislingen, that will never do : be at rest, thou 
 knowest I love thee. 
 
 Weislingen. That is my anchor so long as the 
 cable holds. [Uxit. 
 
 Adelaide. Ah ! It is come to this ? This was yet 
 wanting. The projects of my bosom are too great to 
 brook the interruption. Charles — the great, the gal-
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 329 
 
 lant Charles — the future emperor — shall he be the 
 only man unrewarded by my favour ? Think not, 
 Weislingen, to hinder me — else shalt thou to earth: 
 my way lies over thee ! 
 
 Enter Francis {with a letter). 
 
 Francis. Here, gracious lady. 
 
 Adelaide. Hadst thou it from Charles's own hand ? 
 
 Francis. Yes. 
 
 Adelaide. What ails thee ? Thou lookest so 
 mournful ! 
 
 Francis. It is your pleasure that I should pine 
 away, and waste my fairest years in agonising despair. 
 
 Adelaide (aside). I pity him ; and how little would 
 it cost me to make him happy ! (Aloud.) Be of 
 good courage, youth ! I know thy love and fidelity, 
 and will not be ungrateful. 
 
 Francis {with stifled breath). If thou wert capable 
 of ingratitude, I could not survive it. There boils not 
 a drop of blood in my veins but what is thine own — 
 I have not a single feeling but to love and to serve 
 thee! 
 
 Adelaide. Dear Francis ! 
 
 Francis. You flatter me. (Bursts into tears.) 
 Does my attachment deserve only to be a stepping- 
 stool to another, — to see all your thoughts fixed upon 
 Charles ? 
 
 Adelaide. You know not what you wish, and still 
 less what you say. 
 
 Francis (stamping with vexation and rage). No 
 more will I be your slave, your go-between ! 
 
 Adelaide. Francis, you forget yourself. 
 
 Francis. To sacrifice my beloved master and my- 
 self — 
 
 Adelaide. Out of my sight ! 
 
 Francis. Gracious lady !
 
 330 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Adelaide. Go, betray to thy beloved master the 
 secret of my soul ! Fool that I was to take thee for 
 what thou art not ! 
 
 Fkancis. Dear lady ! you know how I love you. 
 
 Adelaide. And thou, who wast my friend — so 
 near my heart — go, betray me. 
 
 Francis. Rather would I tear my heart from my 
 breast ! Forgive me, gentle lady ! my heart is too full, 
 my senses desert me. 
 
 Adelaide. Thou dear, affectionate boy ! {She 
 takes him by both hands, draws him toward her, and 
 kisses him. He throws himself weeping upon her neck.) 
 Leave me ! 
 
 Fkancis (his voice choked by tears). Heavens ! 
 
 Adelaide. Leave me ! The walls are traitors. 
 Leave me ! {Breaks from him.) Be but steady in 
 fidehty and love, and the fairest reward is thine. 
 
 [Uxit. 
 
 Francis. The fairest reward ! let me but live till 
 that moment — I could murder my father, were he an 
 obstacle to my happiness ! [Uxit. 
 
 Scene V. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 GoETZ seated at a table with writing materials. Eliza- 
 beth beside him with her work. 
 
 GoETZ. This idle life does not suit me. My con- 
 finement becomes more irksome every day: I would 
 I could sleep, or persuade myself that quiet is 
 agreeable. 
 
 Elizabeth. Continue writing the account of thy 
 deeds which thou hast commenced. Give into the 
 hands of thy friends evidence to put thine enemies to 
 shame: make a noble posterity acquainted with thy 
 real character.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 331 
 
 GoETZ. Alas ! writing is but busy idleness : it 
 wearies me. While I am writing what I have done, I 
 lament the misspent time in which I might do more. 
 
 Elizabeth (takes the ivriting). Be not impatient. 
 Thou hast got as far as thy first imprisonment at 
 Heilbronn. 
 
 GoETZ. That was always an unlucky place to me. 
 
 Elizabeth (reads). " There were even some of the 
 confederates who told me that I had acted foolishly in 
 appearing before my bitterest enemies, who, as I might 
 suspect, would not deal justly with me." And what 
 didst thou answer ? Write on. 
 
 GoETZ. I said, " Have I not often risked life and limb 
 for the welfare and property of others, and shall I not 
 do so for the honour of my knightly word ? " 
 
 Elizabeth. Thus does fame speak of thee. 
 
 GoETZ. They shall not rob me of my honour. They 
 have taken all else from me, — property — hberty — 
 everything. 
 
 Elizabeth. I happened once to stand in an inn 
 near the Lords of Miltenberg and Singlingen, who knew 
 me not. Then I was joyful as at the birth of my first- 
 born ; for they extolled thee to each other, and said, 
 " He is the mirror of knighthood, noble and merciful in 
 prosperity, dauntless and true in misfortune." 
 
 GoETZ. Let them show me the man to whom I have 
 broken my word. Heaven knows, my ambition has 
 ever been to labour for my neighbour more than for 
 myself, and to acquire the fame of a gallant and irre- 
 proachable knight, rather than principalities or power ; 
 and, God be praised ! I have gained the meed of my 
 labour. 
 
 Unter George and Lerse with game. 
 
 GoETZ. Good luck to my gallant huntsmen ! 
 George. Such have we become from gallant 
 troopers. Boots can easily be cut down into buskins,
 
 332 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Leese. The chase is always something — 'tis a kind 
 of war. 
 
 George. Yes ; if we were not always crossed by 
 these imperial gamekeepers. Don't you recollect, my 
 lord, how you prophesied we should become huntsmen 
 when the world was turned topsy-turvy ? We are 
 become so now without waiting for that. 
 
 Goetz. 'Tis all the same : we are pushed out of our 
 sphere. 
 
 George. These are wonderful times ! For eight 
 days a dreadful comet has been seen : all Germany 
 fears that it portends the death of the emperor, who is 
 very ill. 
 
 Goetz. Very ill ! Then, our career draws to a close. 
 
 Lerse. And in the neighbourhood there are terrible 
 commotions : the peasants have made a formidable in- 
 surrection. 
 
 Goetz. Where ? 
 
 Lerse. In the heart of Swabia : they are plundering, 
 burning, and slaying. I fear they will sack the whole 
 country. 
 
 George. It is a horrible warfare ! They have 
 already risen in a hundred places, and daily increase 
 in number. A hurricane, too, has lately torn up whole 
 forests ; and, in the place where the insurrection began, 
 two fiery swords have been seen in the sky crossing 
 each other. 
 
 Goetz. Then, some of my poor friends and neigh- 
 bours no doubt suffer innocently. 
 
 George. Alas ! that we are pent up thus !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 333 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — A Village plundered hy the insurgent Peas- 
 antry. Shrieks and tumult. Women, old Men, 
 and Children fly across the Stage. 
 
 Old Man. Away ! away ! let us fly from the mur- 
 dering dogs. 
 
 Woman. Sacred heaven ! How blood-red is the 
 sky ! how blood-red the setting sun ! 
 
 Anothek. That must be fire. 
 
 A Third. My husband ! my husband ! 
 
 Old Man. Away ! away ! To the wood ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Link and Insurgents. 
 
 Link. Whoever opposes you, down with him ! The 
 village is ours. Let none of the booty be injured, none 
 be left behind. Plunder clean and quickly. We must 
 soon set fire — 
 
 Enter Metzler, coming down the hill. 
 
 Metzler. How do things go with you, Link ? 
 
 Link. Merrily enough, as you see : you are just in 
 time for the fun. — Whence come you ? 
 
 Metzler. From Weinsberg. There was a jubUee. 
 
 Link. How so? 
 
 Metzler. We stabbed them all, in such heaps, it 
 was a joy to see it ! 
 
 Link. All whom ? 
 
 Metzler. Dietrich von Weiler led up the dance. 
 The fool ! We were all raging round the church- 
 steeple. He looked out, and wished to treat with us. 
 — Baf ! A ball through his head ! Up we rushed 
 like a tempest, and the fellow soon made his exit by 
 the window.
 
 334 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Link. Huzza ! 
 
 Metzler {to the peasants). Ye dogs, must I find 
 you legs ? How they gape and loiter, the asses ! 
 
 Link. Set fire ! Let them roast in the flames ! 
 forward ! Push on, ye dolts. 
 
 Metzler. Then we brought out Helfenstein, Elters- 
 hofen, thirteen of the nobihty, — eighty in all. They 
 were led out on the plain before Heilbronn. What a 
 shouting and jubilee among our lads as the long row 
 of miserable sinners passed by ! they stared at each 
 other ; and, heaven and earth ! we surrounded them 
 before they were aware, and then despatched them all 
 with our pikes. 
 
 Link. Why was I not there ? 
 
 Metzler. Never in all my Hfe did I see such fun. 
 
 Link. On ! on ! Bring all out ! 
 
 Peasant. All's clear. 
 
 Link. Then, fire the village at the four corners. 
 
 Metzler. 'Twill make a fine bonfire ! Hadst thou 
 but seen how the fellows tumbled over one another, 
 and croaked like frogs ! It warmed my heart like a 
 cup of brandy. One Eexinger was there, a fellow with 
 a white plume and flaxen locks, who, when he went 
 out hunting, used to drive us before him like dogs, and 
 with dogs. I had not caught sight of him all the 
 while, when suddenly his fool's visage looked me full 
 in the face. Push ! went the spear between his ribs, 
 and there he lay stretched on all-fours above his com- 
 panions. The fellows lay kickiog in a heap like the 
 hares that used to be driven together at their grand 
 hunting-parties. 
 
 Link. It smokes finely already ! 
 
 Metzler. Yonder it burns ! Come, let us with the 
 booty to the main body. 
 
 Link. Where do they halt ? 
 
 Metzler. Between this and Heilbronn. They wish 
 to choose a captain whom every one will respect, for
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 we are after all only their equals : they feel this, and 
 turn restive. 
 
 Link. Whom do they propose ? 
 
 Metzler. Maximihan Stumf, or Goetz von Berlich- 
 ingen. 
 
 Link. That would be well. 'Twould give the thing 
 credit should Goetz accept it. He has ever been held 
 a worthy, independent knight. Away, away ! We 
 march toward Heilbronn ! Pass the word. 
 
 Metzler. The fire will light us a good part of the 
 way. Hast thou seen the great comet ? 
 
 Link. Yes. It is a dreadful ghastly sign ! As we 
 march by night we can see it well. It rises about one 
 o'clock. 
 
 Metzler. And is visible but for an hour and a 
 quarter, like an arm brandishing a sword, and bloody 
 red! 
 
 Link, Didst thou mark the three stars at the sword's 
 hilt and point ? 
 
 Metzler. And the broad haze-coloured stripe illu- 
 minated by a thousand streamers Kke lances, and be- 
 tween them little swords. 
 
 Link. I shuddered with horror. The sky was pale 
 red, streaked with ruddy flames, and among them 
 grisly figures with shaggy hairs and beards. 
 
 Metzler. Did you see them too ? And how they 
 all swam about as though in a sea of blood, and 
 struggled in confusion, enough to turn one's brain ! 
 
 Link. Away ! away ! [Uxeuiit. 
 
 Scene II. — 0;pen Country, In the distance two Villages 
 and an Abbey are burning. 
 
 Kohl, Wild, Maximilian Stumf, Insurgents. 
 
 Stumf. You cannot ask me to be your leader; it 
 were bad for you and for me ; I am a vassal of the
 
 336 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 palsgrave, and how shall I make war against my hege 
 lord ? Besides, you would always suspect I did not act 
 from my heart. 
 
 Kohl. We knew well thou wouldst make some 
 excuse. 
 
 Enter George, Lerse, and Goetz. 
 
 GoETZ. What would you with me ? 
 
 Kohl. You must be our captain. 
 
 GOETZ. How can I break my knightly word to the 
 emperor ? I am under the ban : I cannot quit my 
 territory. 
 
 Wild. That's no excuse. 
 
 GoETZ. And were I free, and you wanted to deal 
 with the lords and nobles as you did at Weinsberg, 
 laying waste the country round with fire and sword, 
 and should wish me to be an abettor of your shameless, 
 barbarous doings, rather than be your captain, you 
 should slay me like a mad dog ! 
 
 Kohl. What has been done cannot be undone. 
 
 Stumf. That was just the misfortune, that they 
 had no leader whom they honoured, and who could 
 bridle their fury. I beseech thee, Goetz, accept the 
 office ! The princes will be grateful : all Germany 
 will thank thee. It will be for the weal and pros- 
 perity of all. The country and its inhabitants will be 
 preserved. 
 
 GoETZ. Why dost not thou accept it ? 
 
 Stumf. I have given them reasons for my refusal. 
 
 Kohl. We have no time to waste in useless 
 speeches. Once for all ! Goetz, be our chief, or look 
 to thy castle and thy head ! Take two hours to con- 
 sider of it. Guard him ! 
 
 GoETZ. To what purpose ? I am as resolved now 
 as I shall ever be. Why have ye risen up in arms ? 
 If to recover your rights and freedom, why do you 
 plunder and lay waste the land ? Will you abstain
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 337 
 
 from such evil doings, and act as true men who know 
 what they want ? Then will I be your chief for eight 
 days, and help you in your lawful and orderly de- 
 mands. 
 
 Wild. What has been done was done in the first 
 heat, and thy interference is not needed to prevent it 
 for the future. 
 
 Kohl. Thou must engage with us at least for a 
 quarter of a year. 
 
 Stumf. Say four weeks: that will satisfy both 
 parties. 
 
 Kohl. Your hand ! 
 
 GoETZ. But you must promise to send the treaty 
 you have made with me in writing to all your troops, 
 and to punish severely those who infringe it. 
 
 Wild. Well, it shall be done. 
 
 GoETZ. Then, I bind myself to you for four weeks. 
 
 Stumf. Good fortune to you ! In whatever thou 
 doest, spare our noble lord the palsgrave. 
 
 Kohl (aside). See that none speak to him without 
 our knowledge. 
 
 GoETZ. Lerse, go to my wife. Protect her : you 
 shall have news of me. 
 
 [Uxeunt GoETZ, Stumf, Lekse, and some Peasants. 
 
 Enter Metzlek, Link, and their followers. 
 
 Metzlek. Who talks of a treaty ? What's the use 
 of a treaty ? 
 
 Link. It is shameful to make any such bargain ! 
 
 Kohl. We know as well what we want as you, and 
 we may do or let alone what we please. 
 
 Wild. This raging and burning and murdering 
 must have an end some day or other ; and, by renounc- 
 ing it just now, we gain a lorave leader. 
 
 Metzler. How ? An end ? Thou traitor ! why 
 are we here but to avenge ourselves on our enemies,
 
 338 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 and enrich ourselves at their expense ? Some prince's 
 slave has been tampering with thee. 
 
 Kohl. Come, Wild : he is hke a brute-beast. 
 
 [Exeunt Wild and Kohl. 
 
 Metzler. Ay, go your way : no band will stick by 
 you. The villains ! Link, we'll set on the others to 
 burn Miltenberg yonder ; and, if they begin a quarrel 
 about the treaty, we'll cut off the heads of those that 
 made it. 
 
 Link. We have still the greater body of peasants 
 on our side. [Exeunt with Insurgents. 
 
 Scene III. — A Hill, and Prospect of the Country. 
 In the fiat scene a Mill. A body of Horsenien. 
 
 Weislingen comes out of the Mill, followed hy 
 Francis and a Courier. 
 
 Weislingen. My horse ! Have you announced it 
 to the other nobles ? 
 
 Courier. At least seven standards will meet you 
 in the wood behind Miltenberg. The peasants are 
 marching in that direction. Couriers are despatched 
 on all sides : the entire confederacy will soon be as- 
 sembled. Our plan cannot fail, and they say there is 
 dissension among them. 
 
 Weislingen. So much the better. Francis ! 
 
 Francis. Gracious sir! 
 
 Weislingen. Discharge thine errand punctually. 
 I bind it upon thy soul. Give her the letter. She 
 shall from the court to my castle instantly. Thou 
 must see her depart, and bring me notice of it. 
 
 Francis. Your commands shall be obeyed. 
 
 Weislingen. Tell her she shall go, ' {To the 
 Courier.) Lead us by the nearest and best road. 
 
 Courier. We must go round : all the rivers are 
 swollen with the late heavy rains.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 339 
 
 Scene IV. — Jaxthausen. 
 
 Elizabeth and Lerse. 
 
 Lerse. Gracious lady, be comforted ! 
 
 Elizabeth. Alas ! Lerse, the tears stood in liis 
 eyes wheu he took leave of me. It is dreadful, 
 dreadful ! 
 
 Lerse. He will return. 
 
 Elizabeth. It is not that. Wh*- iie went forth 
 to gain honourable victories, never cud grief sit heavy 
 at my heart. I then rejoiced in the prospect of his 
 return, which I now dread. 
 
 Lerse. So noble a man. 
 
 Elizabeth. Call him not so. There lies the new 
 misery. The miscreants ! they threatened to murder 
 his family and burn his castle. Should he return, 
 gloomy, most gloomy, shall I see his brow. His ene- 
 . mies will forge scandalous accusations against him, 
 which he will be unable to refute. 
 
 Lerse. He wiU and can. 
 
 Elizabeth. He has broken his parole. — Canst thou 
 deny that ? 
 
 Lerse. No ! he was constrained : what reason is 
 there to condemn him ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Malice seeks not reasons, but pretexts. 
 He has become an ally of rebels, malefactors, and 
 murderers: — he has become their chief. Say No to 
 that. 
 
 Lerse. Cease to torment yourself and me. Have 
 they not solemnly sworn to abjure all such doings as 
 those at Weinsberg ? Did not I myself hear them say, 
 in remorse, that, had not that been done already, it 
 never should have been done ? Must not the princes 
 and nobles return him their best thanks for having 
 undertaken the dangerous office of leading these unruly
 
 340 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 people, in order to restrain their rage, and to save so 
 many lives and possessions ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Thou art an affectionate pleader. Should 
 they take him prisoner, deal with him as with a rebel, 
 and bring his gray hairs . . . Lerse, I should go mad. 
 
 Lerse. Send sleep to refresh her body, dear Father 
 of mankind, if thou deniest comfort to her soul, 
 
 Elizabeth. George has promised to bring news, but 
 he will not be allowed to do so. They are worse than 
 prisoners. Well I know they are watched like ene- 
 mies. — The gallant boy ! he would not leave his 
 master. 
 
 Leese. The very heart within me bled when he 
 bade me leave him. — Had you not needed my help, 
 all the terrors of grisly death should not have sepa- 
 rated us. 
 
 Elizabeth. I know not where Sickingen is. — 
 Could I but send a message to Maria ! 
 
 Lerse. Write your message: I will take charge 
 of it. ^Uxit. 
 
 Scene V. — A Village. 
 
 Enter Goetz and George. 
 
 GoETZ. To horse, George ! Quick ! I see Milten- 
 berg in flames. Is it thus they keep the treaty ? Ride 
 to them, tell them my purpose. The murderous incen- 
 diaries — I renounce them — Let them make a thiev- 
 ing gipsy their captain, not me ! — Quick, George ! 
 (Exit George.) Would that I were a thousand miles 
 hence, at the bottom of the deepest dungeon in Turkey ! 
 Could I but come off with honour from them ! I have 
 thwarted them every day, and told them the bitterest 
 truths, in the hope they might weary of me and let me 
 go. 
 
 Enter an Unknown.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 34i 
 
 Unknown. God save you, gallant sir ! 
 
 GoETZ. I thank you ! What is your errand ? Your 
 name ? 
 
 Unknown. My name does not concern my busi- 
 ness. I come to tell you that your life is in danger. 
 The insurgent leaders are weary of hearing from you 
 such harsh language, and are resolved to rid themselves 
 of you. Speak them fair, or endeavour to escape from 
 them ; and God be with you. [^Uxit. 
 
 GoETZ. To quit life in this fashion, Goetz, to end 
 thus ? But be it so — My death will be the clearest 
 proof to the world that I have had nothing in common 
 with the miscreants. 
 
 Unter Insurgents. 
 
 First Insurgent. Captain, they are prisoners, they 
 are slain ! 
 
 GoETZ. Who ? 
 
 Second Insurgent. Those who burned Miltenberg : 
 a troop of confederate cavalry suddenly charged upon 
 them from behind the hill. 
 
 Goetz. They have their reward. Oh, George ! 
 George ! They have taken him prisoner with the 
 caitiffs — My George ! my George ! 
 
 Enter Insurgents in confusion. 
 
 Link. Up, sir captain, up ! — There is no time to 
 lose. The enemy is at hand and in force. 
 
 Goetz. Who burned Miltenberg ? 
 
 Metzler. If you mean to pick a quarrel, we'll soon 
 show you how we'll end it. 
 
 Kohl. Look to your own safety and ours. — Up ! 
 
 Goetz (to Metzler). Darest thou threaten me, 
 thou scoundrel ? . . . Thinkest thou to awe me, be- 
 cause thy garments are stained with the Count of 
 Helfenstein's blood ? 
 
 Metzler. Berhchingen !
 
 342 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 GoETZ. Thou mayest call me by my name, and my 
 children will not be ashamed to hear it. 
 
 Metzler. Out upon thee, coward ! — prince's slave ! 
 [GOETZ strikes him down.. The others interpose. 
 Kohl. Ye are mad ! — The enemy are breaking in 
 on all sides, and you quarrel ! 
 Link. Away ! Away ! 
 
 \_Cries and tumult. Tlie Insuegents flee across 
 the stage. 
 
 Enter Weislingen and Troopers. 
 
 Weislingen. Pursue ! Pursue ! they flee ! — Stop 
 neither for darkness nor rain. — I hear Goetz is among 
 them : look that he escape you not. Our friends say 
 he is sorely wounded. [Exeunt Troopers.) And 
 when I have caught thee — it will be merciful secretly 
 to execute the sentence of death in prison. Thus he 
 perishes from the memory of man ; and then, foolish 
 heart, thou mayst beat more freely. 
 
 Scene VI. — jThe Front of a Gipsy Hut in a wild 
 Forest. Night. A Fire hefore the Hut, at which 
 are seated the Mother of the Gipsies and a Girl. 
 
 Mother. Throw some fresh straw upon the thatch, 
 daughter : there'll be heavy rain again to-night. 
 
 Enter a GiPSY Boy. 
 
 Boy. a dormouse, mother ! and look ! two field- 
 mice ! 
 
 Mother. I'll skin them and roast them for thee, 
 and thou shalt have a cap of their skins. Thou 
 bleedest ! 
 
 Boy. Dormouse bit me.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 343 
 
 MoTHEK. Fetch some dead wood, that the fire may 
 burn bright when thy father comes : he will be wet 
 through and through. 
 
 Another Gipsy Woman, with a child at her hack. 
 
 FiEST Woman. Hast thou had good luck ? 
 
 Second Woman. Ill enough. The whole country 
 is in an uproar : one's hfe is not safe a moment. Two 
 villages are in a blaze. 
 
 FiEST Woman. Is it fire that glares so yonder ? I 
 have been watching it long. One is so accustomed 
 now to fiery signs in the heavens. 
 
 TJie Captain of the Gipsies enters with three of 
 his gang. 
 
 Captain. Heard ye the wild huntsmen ? 
 
 First Woman. He is passing over us now. 
 
 Captain. How the hounds give tongue ! Wow ! 
 Wow! 
 
 Second Man. How the whips crack ! 
 
 Third Man. And the huntsmen cheer them — 
 Hallo — ho! 
 
 Mother. 'Tis the Devil's chase. 
 
 Captain. We have been fishing in troubled waters. 
 The peasants rob each other : there's no harm in our 
 helping them. 
 
 Second Woman. What hast thou got. Wolf ? 
 
 Wolf. A hare and a capon, a spit, a bundle of 
 linen, three spoons and a bridle. 
 
 Sticks. I have a blanket and a pair of boots, also 
 a flint and tinder-box. 
 
 Mother. All wet as mire : I'll dry them, give them 
 here I [Trampling without. 
 
 Captain, Hark ! — A horse ! Go see who it is. 
 
 Enter GoETZ on horseback.
 
 344 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 GoETZ. I thank thee, God ! I see fire — they are 
 gipsies — My wounds bleed sorely — my foes are close 
 behind me ! — Great God, this is a fearful end ! 
 
 Captain. Is it in peace thou comest ? 
 
 GoETZ. I crave help from you — My wounds 
 exhaust me : assist me to dismount ! 
 
 Captain. Help him ! — A gallant warrior in look 
 and speech. 
 
 Wolf (aside). 'Tis Goetz von Berlichingen ! 
 
 Captain. Welcome ! welcome ! — All that we have 
 is yours. 
 
 Goetz. Thanks, thanks ! 
 
 Captain. Come to my hut. [Exeunt to the hut. 
 
 Scene VIL — Inside the Rut. 
 
 Captain, Gipsies, and Goetz. 
 
 Captain. Call our mother : tell her to bring blood- 
 wort and bandages. (Goetz unarms himself.) Here 
 is my holiday doublet. 
 
 Goetz. God reward you ! 
 
 [TJie Mother hinds his wounds. 
 
 Captain. I rejoice that you are come. 
 
 Goetz. Do you know me ? 
 
 Captain. Who does not know you, Goetz ? Our 
 hves and heart's blood are yours. 
 
 Enter Sticks. 
 
 Sticks. Horsemen are coming through the wood. 
 They are confederates. 
 
 Captain. Your pursuers ! They shall not harm 
 you. Away, Sticks, call the others: we know the 
 passes better than they. We shall shoot them ere 
 they are aware of us. 
 
 [Exeunt Captain and Men - Gipsies with their guns.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 345 
 
 GoETZ {alone). Oh, Emperor ! Emperor ! Eobbers 
 protect thy children. {A sharp firing.) The wild 
 foresters ! Steady and true ! 
 
 Enter Women. 
 
 Women. Flee, flee ! The enemy has overpow- 
 ered us. 
 
 GoETZ. Where is my horse ? 
 
 Women. Here. 
 
 GoETZ {girds on his sword and mounts without his 
 armour). For the last time shall you feel my arm. 
 I am not so weak yet. \_Exit. — Tumult, 
 
 Women. He gallops to join our party. [Firing. 
 
 Enter Wolf. 
 
 Wolf. Away ! Away ! All is lost ! — The cap- 
 tain is shot ! — Goetz a prisoner. 
 
 [Tlie Women scream, andfiy into the wood. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Adelaide's Bedchamber. 
 
 Enter Adelaide with a letter. 
 
 Adelaide. He, or I ! The tyrant — to threaten 
 me ! We wiU anticipate him. Who glides through 
 the antechamber ? {A low knock at the door.) Who 
 is there ? 
 
 Francis (m a low voice). Open, gracious lady ! 
 
 Adelaide. Francis ! He well deserves that I 
 should admit him. [Opens the door. 
 
 Francis {throws himself on her neck). My dear, my 
 gracious lady ! 
 
 Adelaide. What audacity ! If any one should 
 hear you !
 
 ^46 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Fkancis. Oh — all — all are asleep ! 
 
 Adelaide. What wouldst thou ? 
 
 Fkancis. I cannot rest. The threats of my master 
 — your fate — my heart. 
 
 Adelaide. He was incensed against me when you 
 parted from him. 
 
 Fkancis. He was as I have never seen him. — " To 
 my castle," said he, " she must — she shall go." 
 
 Adelaide. And shall we obey ? 
 
 Fkancis. I know not, dear lady ! 
 
 Adelaide. Thou foolish, infatuated boy ! Thou 
 dost not see where this will end. Here he knows I 
 am in safety. He has long had designs on my free- 
 dom, and therefore wishes to get me to his castle — 
 there he will have power to use me as his hate 
 shall dictate. 
 
 Francis. He shall not ! 
 
 Adelaide. Wilt thou prevent him ? 
 
 Francis. He shall not ! 
 
 Adelaide, I foresee the whole misery of my fate. 
 He will tear me forcibly from his castle to immure me 
 in a cloister. 
 
 Francis. Hell and damnation ! 
 
 Adelaide. Wilt thou rescue me ? 
 
 Francis. Anything ! Everything ! 
 
 Adelaide {throws herself weeping upon his neck). 
 Francis ! Oh, save me ! 
 
 Francis. He shall fall. I will plant my foot iipon 
 his neck. 
 
 Adelaide. No violence. You shall carry a sub- 
 missive letter to him announcing obedience — Then 
 give him this vial in his wine. 
 
 Francis. Give it me ! Thou shalt be free ! 
 
 Adelaide. Free ! — And then no more shalt thou 
 need to come to my chamber trembling and in fear. 
 No more shall I need anxiously say, " Away, Francis ! 
 the morning dawns."
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 347 
 
 Scene IX. — Street "before the Prison at Heilbronn. 
 
 Elizabeth and Leese. 
 
 Lerse. Heaven relieve your distress, gracious lady ! 
 Maria is come. 
 
 Elizabeth. God be praised ! Lerse, we have sunk 
 into dreadful misery. My worst forebodings are real- 
 ised ! A prisoner — thrown as an assassin and male- 
 factor into the deepest dungeon. 
 
 Lerse. I know all. 
 
 Elizabeth. Thou knowest nothing. Our distress 
 is too — too great ! His age, his wounds, a slow fever 
 — and, more than all, the despondency of his mind, 
 to think that this should be his end. 
 
 Lerse. Ay, and that Weislingen should be com- 
 missioner ! 
 
 Elizabeth. Weislingen ! 
 
 Lerse. They have acted with unheard-of severity. 
 Metzler has been burnt alive — hundreds of his asso- 
 ciates broken upon the wheel, beheaded, quartered, and 
 impaled. All the country round looks like a slaugh- 
 ter-house, where human flesh is cheap. 
 
 Elizabeth. Weishngen commissioner ! Heaven ! 
 a ray of hope ! Maria shall go to him : he cannot 
 refuse her. He had ever a compassionate heart ; and 
 when he sees her whom he once loved so much, whom 
 he has made so miserable — Where is she ? 
 
 Lerse. Still at the inn. 
 
 Elizabeth. Take me to her. She must away 
 instantly. I fear the worst. \Exeunt
 
 348 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Scene X. — An Apartment in Weislingen's Castle, 
 
 Weislingen, alone. 
 
 Weislingen. I am so ill, so weak — all my bones 
 are hollow — this wretched fever has consumed their 
 very marrow. No rest, no sleep, by day or night ! and 
 when I slumber, such fearful dreams ! Last night 
 methought I met Goetz in the forest. He drew his 
 sword, and defied me to combat. I grasped mine, but 
 my hand failed me. He darted on me a look of con- 
 tempt, sheathed his weapon, and passed on. He is a 
 prisoner, yet I tremble to think of him. Miserable 
 man ! Thine own voice has condemned him, yet thou 
 tremblest like a malefactor at his very shadow. And 
 shall he die ? Goetz ! Goetz ! we mortals 'are not our 
 own masters. Fiends have empire over us, and shape 
 our actions after their own hellish will, to goad us to 
 perdition. (Sits down.) Weak ! Weak ! Why are 
 my nails so blue ? A cold, clammy, wasting sweat 
 drenches every limb. Everything swims before my 
 eyes. Could I but sleep ! Alas ! 
 
 Unter Maeia. 
 
 Weislingen. Mother of God ! Leave me in peace 
 — leave me in peace ! This spectre was yet wanting. 
 Maria is dead, and she appears to the traitor. Leave 
 me, blessed spirit ! I am wretched enough. 
 
 Makia. Weislingen, I am no spirit. I am Maria. 
 
 Weislingen. It is her voice ! 
 
 Maria. I came to beg my brother's Hfe of thee. 
 He is guiltless, however culpable he may appear. 
 
 Weislingen. Hush ! Maria — Angel of heaven 
 as thou art, thou bringest with thee the torments of 
 hell ! Speak no more !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 349 
 
 Makia. And must my brother die ? Weislingen, 
 it is horrible that I should have to tell thee he is guilt- 
 less ; that I should be compelled to come as a suppli- 
 ant to restrain thee from a most fearful murder. Thy 
 soul to its inmost depths is possessed by evil powers. 
 Can this be Adelbert ? 
 
 Weislingen. Thou seest — the consuming breath 
 of the grave hath swept over me — my strength sinks 
 in death — I die in misery, and thou comest to drive 
 me to despair. Could I but tell thee all, thy bitterest 
 hate would melt to sorrow and compassion. Maria ! 
 Maria ! 
 
 Makia. Weislingen, my brother is pining in a dun- 
 geon — The anguish of his wounds — his age — oh, 
 hadst thou the heart to bring his gray hairs . . . Weis- 
 lingen, we should despair ! 
 
 Weislingen. Enough ! \_Rings a hand-bell. 
 
 Enter Francis in great agitation. 
 
 Francis. Gracious sir. 
 
 Weislingen. Those papers, Francis. {He gives 
 tJieTn. Weislingen tears open a packet, and shows 
 Maria a paper.) Here is thy brother's death-warrant 
 signed ! 
 
 Maria. God in heaven ! 
 
 Weislingen. And thus I tear it. He shall live ! 
 But can I restore what I have destroyed ? Weep not 
 so, Francis ! Dear youth, my wretchedness lies deeply 
 at thy heart. 
 
 [Francis throws himself at his feet, and clasps his 
 knees. 
 
 Maria (apart). He is ill — very ill. The sight of 
 him rends my heart. I loved him ! And now that I 
 again approach him, I feel how dearly — 
 
 Weislingen. Francis, arise, and cease to weep — I 
 may recover ! While there is hfe, there is hope.
 
 350 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Fkancis. You cannot ! You must die ! 
 
 Weislingen. Must ? 
 
 Francis (beside himself y Poison ! poison ! — from 
 your wife ! I — I gave it. [Bushes out. 
 
 Weislingen, Follow him, Maria — he is desperate. 
 
 [JExit Maria. 
 
 Poison from my wife ! Alas ! alas ! I feel it. Tor- 
 ture and death ! 
 
 Maria (ivithin). Help ! help ! 
 
 Weislingen (attempts in vain to rise). God ! I 
 cannot. 
 
 Maria {reentering). He is gone ! He threw him- 
 self desperately from a window of the hall into the 
 river. 
 
 Weislingen. It is well with him. Thy brother is 
 out of danger. The other commissioners, especially 
 Seckendorf, are his friends. They will readily allow 
 him to ward himself upon his knightly word. Fare- 
 well, Maria ! Now go. 
 
 Maria. I will stay with thee — thou poor forsaken 
 one ! 
 
 Weislingen. Poor and forsaken indeed! God, 
 thou art a terrible avenger ! My wife ! 
 
 Maria. Eemove from thee that thought. Turn thy 
 soul to the throne of mercy. 
 
 Weislingen. Go, thou gentle spirit ! leave me to 
 my misery ! Horrible ! Even thy presence, Maria, 
 even the attendance of my only comforter, is agony. 
 
 Maria {aside). Strengthen me. Heaven ! My soul 
 droops with his. 
 
 Weislingen. Alas ! alas ! Poison from my wife ! 
 My Francis seduced by the wretch ! She waits — lis- 
 tens to every horse's hoof for the messenger who brings 
 her the news of my death. And thou, too, Maria, 
 wherefore art thou come to awaken every slumbering 
 recollection of my sins ? Leave me, leave me that I 
 may die !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 351 
 
 Maria. Let me stay ! Thou art alone : think I am 
 thy nurse. Forget all. May God forgive thee as freely 
 as I do ! 
 
 Weislingen. Thou spirit of love ! pray for me ! 
 pray for me ! My heart is seared. 
 
 Maria. There is forgiveness for thee. — Thou art 
 exhausted. 
 
 Weislingen. I die ! I die ! and yet I cannot die. 
 In the fearful contest between hfe and death lie the 
 torments of hell. 
 
 Makia. Heavenly Father, have compassion upon 
 him. Grant him but one token of thy love, that his 
 heart may be opened to comfort, and his soul to the 
 hope of eternal life, even in the agony of death ! 
 
 Scene XI. — A Harrow Vault dimly illuminated. 
 The Judges of the Secret Tribunal discovered seated, 
 all muffled in Black Cloaks. 
 
 Eldest Judge. Judges of the Secret Tribunal, 
 sworn by the cord and the steel to be inflexible in 
 justice, to judge in secret, and to avenge in secret, like 
 the Deity ! Are your hands clean and your hearts 
 pure ? Eaise them to heaven, and cry. Woe upon evil- 
 doers ! 
 
 All. Woe ! woe ! 
 
 Eldest Judge. Crier, begm the diet of judgment. 
 
 Crier. I cry, I cry for accusation against evil-doers ! 
 He w^hose heart is pure, whose hands are clean to swear 
 by the cord and the steel, let him lift up his voice and 
 call upon the steel and the cord for vengeance ! ven- 
 geance ! vengeance ! 
 
 Accuser (comes forward^. My heart is pure from 
 misdeed, and my hands are clean from innocent blood : 
 God pardon my sins of thought, and prevent their exe-
 
 352 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 cution. I raise my hand on high, and cry for ven- 
 geance ! vengeance ! vengeance ! 
 
 Eldest Judge. Vengeance upon whom ? 
 
 AccusEK. I call upon the cord and the steel for 
 vengeance against Adelaide of Weishngen. She has 
 committed adultery and murder. She has poisoned 
 her husband by the hands of his servant — the servant 
 hath slain himself — the husband is dead. 
 
 Eldest Judge. Dost thou swear by the God of 
 truth, that thy accusation is true ? 
 
 AccusEK. I swear ! 
 
 Eldest Judge. Dost thou invoke upon thine own 
 head the punishment of murder and adultery, should 
 thy accusation be found false ? 
 
 AccusEK. On my head be it. 
 
 Eldest Judge. Your voices ! 
 
 \_They converse a few minutes in whispers. 
 
 AccusEK. Judges of the Secret Tribunal, what is 
 your sentence upon Adelaide of Weishngen, accused of 
 murder and adultery ? 
 
 Eldest Judge. She shall die ! — she shall die a 
 bitter and twofold death ! By the double doom of the 
 steel and the cord shall she expiate the double crime. 
 Eaise your hands to heaven and cry, Woe, woe upon 
 her ! Be she dehvered into the hands of the avenger. 
 
 All. Woe ! woe ! 
 
 Eldest Judge. Woe ! Avenger, come forth. 
 
 [A man advances. 
 
 Here, take thou the cord and the steel ! Within 
 eight days shalt thou blot her out from before the face 
 of heaven : wheresoever thou findest her, down with 
 her into the dust. Judges, ye that judge in secret, and 
 avenge in secret like the Deity, keep your hearts from 
 wickedness, and your hands from innocent blood ! 
 
 \Scene closes.
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 353 
 
 Scene XIL — The Court of an Inn. 
 
 Leese and Makia. 
 
 Maria. The horses have rested long enough: we 
 will away, Lerse. 
 
 Lerse. Stay till to-morrow: this is a dreadful 
 night. 
 
 Maria. Lerse, I cannot rest till I have seen my 
 brother. Let us away : the weather is clearing up — 
 we may expect a fair morning. 
 
 Lerse. Be it as you will. 
 
 Scene XIII. — Tlie Prison at Reilhronn. 
 
 Goetz and Elizabeth. 
 
 Elizabeth. I entreat thee, dear husband, speak to 
 me. Thy silence alarms me: thy spirit consumes 
 thee, pent up within thy breast. Come, let me see 
 thy wounds : they mend daily. In this desponding 
 melancholy I know thee no longer ! 
 
 Goetz. Seekest thou Goetz ? He is long since 
 gone ! Piece by piece have they robbed me of all I 
 held dear, — my hand, my property, my freedom, 
 my good name ! My life ! Of what value is it to 
 me ? What nfews of George ? Is Lerse gone to seek 
 him ? 
 
 Elizabeth. He is, my love ! Be of good cheer : 
 things may yet take a favourable turn. 
 
 Goetz. He whom God hath stricken lifts himself 
 up no more ! I best know the load I have to bear. — 
 To misfortune I am inured. — But now it is not 
 Weislingen alone, not the peasants alone, not the 
 death of the emperor, nor my wounds, — it is the 
 whole united. . . . My hour is come ! I had hoped
 
 354 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 it should have been like my life. But his wdll be 
 done! 
 
 Elizabeth. Wilt not thou eat something ? 
 
 GoETZ. Nothing, my love. See how the sun shines 
 yonder ! 
 
 Elizabeth. It is a fine spring day ! 
 
 GoETZ. My love, wilt thou ask the keeper's permis- 
 sion for me to walk in his little garden for half an 
 hour, that I may look upon the clear face of heaven, 
 the pure air, and the blessed sun ? 
 
 Elizabeth. I will — and he will readily grant it. 
 
 Scene the Last. — Tlie Prison Garden. 
 
 Lerse and Maeia. 
 
 Maria. Go in, and see how it stands with them. 
 
 [Exit Leese. 
 
 Enter Elizabeth and Keeper. 
 
 Elizabeth {to the Keeper). God reward your kind- 
 ness and attention to my husband ! {Exit Keeper.) 
 Maria, how hast thou sped ? 
 
 Maria. My brother is safe ! But my heart is torn 
 asunder. Weislingen is dead ! Poisoned by his wife. 
 My husband is in danger — the princes are becoming 
 too powerful for him : they say he is surrounded and 
 besieged. 
 
 Elizabeth. Believe not the rumour, and let not 
 Goetz hear it. 
 
 Maria. How is it with him ? 
 
 Elizabeth. I feared he would not survive till thy 
 return : the hand of the Lord is heavy on him. And 
 George is dead ! 
 
 Maria. George ! The gallant boy !
 
 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 355 
 
 Elizabeth. When the miscreants were burning 
 Miltenberg, his master sent him to check their villainy, 
 A body of cavalry charged upon them : had they all 
 behaved as George, they must all have had as clear a 
 conscience. Many were killed, and George among 
 them : he died the death of a warrior. 
 
 Maeia. Does Goetz know it ? 
 
 Elizabeth. We conceal it from him. He ques- 
 tions me ten times a day concerning him, and sends 
 me as often to see what is become of him. I fear to 
 give his heart this last wound. 
 
 Maria. O God ! What are the hopes of this world ? 
 
 Enter Goetz, Lerse, and Keeper. 
 
 Goetz. Almighty God ! How lovely it is beneath 
 thy heaven ! How free ! The trees put forth their 
 buds, and all the world awakes to hope. . . . Farewell, 
 my children! My roots are cut away, my strength 
 totters to the grave. 
 
 Elizabeth. Shall I not send Lerse to the convent 
 for thy son, that thou mayst once more see and bless 
 him ? 
 
 Goetz. Let him be : he needs not my blessing, he 
 is hoher than I. — Upon our wedding-day, Ehzabeth, 
 could I have thought I should die thus ! — My old 
 father blessed us, and prayed for a succession of noble 
 and gallant sons. — God, thou hast not heard him. I 
 am the last. . . . Lerse, thy countenance cheers me in 
 the hour of death, more than in our most daring fights : 
 then, my spirit encouraged all of you ; now, thine sup- 
 ports me . . . Oh, that I could but once more see 
 George, and sun myself in his look ! You turn away, 
 and weep. He is dead ? George is dead ? Then die, 
 Goetz ! Thou hast outhved thyself, outlived the 
 noblest of thy servants. . . . How died he ? Alas ! 
 they took him among the incendiaries, and he has been 
 executed ?
 
 356 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN 
 
 Elizabeth. No ! he was slain at Miltenberg, while 
 fighting for his freedom like a lion. 
 
 GoETZ. God be praised! He was the kindest 
 youth under the sun, and one of the bravest. . . . 
 Now release my soul. My poor wife ! I leave thee 
 in a wicked world. Lerse, forsake her not ! Lock 
 your hearts more carefully than your doors. The age 
 of fraud is at hand, treachery wiU reign unchecked. 
 The worthless will gain the ascendency by cunning, 
 and the noble will fall into their net. Maria, may 
 God restore thy husband to thee! May he not fall 
 the deeper for having risen so high ! Selbitz is dead, 
 and the good emperor, and my George. . . . Give me 
 a draught of water! . . . Heavenly air! Freedom! 
 freedom ! [^Se dies. 
 
 Elizabeth. Freedom is above, — above, with thee ! 
 The world is a prison-house. 
 
 Maria. Noble man ! Woe to this age that re- 
 jected thee ! 
 
 Lerse. And woe to the future, that shall misjudge 
 thee!
 
 The Fellow Culprits 
 
 A Comedy in Verse and in Three Acts 
 
 Translated by Edgar A. Bowring, C. B. 
 
 This clever comedy, like the preceding piece, was written dur- 
 ing Goethe's residence at Leipsic ; but it was touched up and 
 improved at intervals, during subsequent years, until it was 
 printed in his collected works. That its author considered it of 
 some importance, is shown by the fact that it was one of the plays 
 acted by the amateur company at the court of Weimar.
 
 Dramatis Personag 
 
 The Host. Alcestes. 
 
 Sophia, his daughter. A Waiter. 
 
 SoLLER, her husband. 
 
 The Scene is in the Inn.
 
 The Fellow Culprits 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. The Inn Parlour. 
 
 SoLLER, in a domino at a table, with a bottle of wine he- 
 fore hini. Sophia, opposite hini, sewing a white 
 feather on to a hat. The Host enters. At the 
 back of the stage is a table with pen, ink, and 
 paper. A large easy-chair is near it. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Another ball ! My son, I'm sick of all this riot ; 
 I thought that by this time you'd hke a httle quiet. 
 I certainly ne'er gave my daughter's hand to you, 
 To see my hard-won cash so recklessly run through. 
 I'm getting old, and sought my forces to recruit ; 
 Assistance wanted I, and so allow'd your suit : 
 A nice assistance yours, to waste each httle earning . 
 
 (SoLLER hums a tune to himself.) 
 Yes, sing away ! You'U soon another song be learning. 
 A good-for-nothing chap, whose folly few men's matches, 
 Plays, drinks, tobacco smokes, and plots of aU kinds 
 
 hatches. 
 You revel all the night, are half the day in bed : 
 No prince throughout the land an easier life e'er led. 
 
 359
 
 360 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 There the adventurer sits, with spreading sleeves. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! 
 The king of coxcombs he ! 
 
 SOLLER (drinks). 
 
 I drink your health, papa ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You drink my health, indeed ! Enough to give me 
 fever ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father, pray be kind ! 
 
 SOLLER (drinks). 
 
 Soph, happy be for ever ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Be happy ! Ah, could I but see you two agree ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Unless he changes much, that certainly cant be. 
 I've long indeed been sick of these disputes eternal ; 
 But while he thus behaves, the nuisance is infernal. 
 He is a wicked man, cold, thankless to the last ; 
 He sees not what he is, remembers not the past : 
 The poverty from which I saved him, he forgets. 
 And my munificence in paying all his debts. 
 Distress, repentance, time, no change in him have 
 
 wrought : 
 The man who's once a scamp is always good for nought. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 He'll surely change some day.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 361 
 
 HOST. 
 
 He little hurry shows. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 'Tis but the way of youth. 
 
 SOLLER (drinks) . 
 
 To all we love, here goes ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 In at one ear, forsooth, and at the other out. 
 He doesn't hear me. I a cipher am, no doubt. 
 I now for twenty years an honour'd hfe have led : 
 What I have saved, you hope to make your own instead, 
 And bit by bit consume ? If this is what you're at, 
 You're much mistaken, friend ! 'Tis not so bad as that. 
 Long has endured, and long will still last, my vocation : 
 The host of the Black Bear is known throughout crea- 
 tion. 
 No fooHsh Bear is he, his skin he looks to well : 
 My house is painted now, I call it a hotel. 
 Soon cavaliers will come, and gold will fall in showers : 
 We none must idle be, or waste in drink our hours. 
 To bed at twelve o'clock, up as soon as it is day, 
 That's it ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 All this, just now, is pretty far away. 
 May things go on as now, and never get less steady ! 
 Where are our many guests? The rooms above are 
 ready. 
 
 HOST, 
 
 Tew travel at this time : the house will fill up soon. 
 Has Squire Alcestes not two rooms and the saloon ?
 
 362 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 That's nothing, yes : a right good customer is he ; 
 Yet sixty minutes good in ev'ry hour there be, 
 And Squire Alcestes knows why he is here. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Knows why ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 But, apropos, papa ! To-day informed was I : 
 
 A corps of brave young folks in Germany's preparing 
 
 To help America, both gold and succour bearing. 
 
 If they get men enough, and courage for the mission, 
 
 Next spring, 'tis said, they'll start upon their expedition. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yes, oft I've heard them boast, as they a bottle share, 
 What wonders they would do for my compatriots there ; 
 Then freedom was the cry, vast valour they affected, 
 But when the morning came their vows none recollected. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Ah, there are chaps enough, who're always gushing 
 
 over : 
 There's one not far from you who is an ardent lover ; 
 Would he romantic be, or aim at the sublime. 
 With head well placed in front, he'll scour the world in 
 
 time. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 If from our customers that one would take a hint, 
 'Twould be so nice, and he could write us, without 
 
 stint. 
 Such letters ! What a joke !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 363 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 'Tis deuced far from here. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 "What matters that ? In time the letters would appear. 
 I'll go up-stairs at once, and with the map's assistance, 
 That's in the httle room, I'll soon find out the distance. 
 
 Scene II. — Sophia, Soller. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 One's pretty well off here, when one can read the 
 papers. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes, let him have his way. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I'm calm, and have no vapours : 
 'Tis well for him, indeed ! Was ever such a bully ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I pray you — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No ! I needs must speak my mind out fully ! 
 A year ago was I, as I can ne'er forget, 
 A trav'ller here by chance, head over ears in debt — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My dear, be not so cross !
 
 364 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Those thoughts will still molest ma 
 And yet Sophia found she didn't quite detest me. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You leave me ne'er in peace, reproaching night and day. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I don't reproach you, dear ; 'tis but my little way. 
 A pretty woman ne'er can be by man held hateful, 
 Whatever may betide ! You see I'm not ungrateful. 
 Sophia pretty is, and I am not of stone : 
 'Tis my dehght that you now me as husband own. 
 I love you — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yet you ne'er allow a moment's bliss. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 There's nothing in it, love ! But I can tell you this : 
 Alcestes loved you well, for you vdth love did burn ; 
 You long have known him too, and loved him in return. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No : don't be disturb'd. I see no evil there : 
 If we should plant a tree, it shoots up in the air ; 
 And when it brings forth fruit, who happens to be by 
 Will eat it, and next year there's more. Sophia, I 
 Know you too well to feel the least annoyance after. 
 I find it laughable.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 365 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I see no cause for laughter, 
 *' Alcestes loved me well, for me with love did burn ; 
 I long have known him too, and loved him in return." 
 What's after that ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Why, nought ! I never said, in truth. 
 That more remains behind. For in her early youth, 
 When first a maiden blooms, she loves in make-believe : 
 A something stirs her heart, but what, she can't con- 
 ceive. 
 At forfeits she will kiss : she presently grows bigger ; 
 The kiss still nicer is, impress'd with greater vigour. 
 She knows not why she now her mother's blame incurs : 
 'Tis virtue when she loves, she's guileless when she errs. 
 And if experience comes her other gifts to swell. 
 And makes a prudent wife, her husband Ukes it welL 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You understand me not. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I only meant to quiz ; 
 What drinking is to men, a kiss to maidens is : 
 One glass, and then one more, tiU on the ground we 
 
 sink ; 
 If we would sober keep, the plan is — not to drink. 
 Enough that you are mine ! — Is't not three years and 
 
 more 
 Since Squire Alcestes here was guest and friend before ? 
 How long was he away ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Three years, I think.
 
 366 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 And nofw 
 He's been a fortnight here this time — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My love, I vow 
 I know not what you mean. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 'Tis only conversation : 
 'Tween man and wife there is so little explanation. 
 But wherefore is he here ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 For pleasure, I suppose. 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 Perchance his heart for you with love still overflows. 
 If he still loves, would you still treat him as before ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Love's capable of much, but duty is of more. 
 You think — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I nothing think ; and understand the saying : 
 A man's worth more than fops who live by fiddle-play- 
 ing. 
 The sweetest tunes we hear in any shepherd's song 
 Are only tunes ; and tunes the palate cloy ere long.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 3^7 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 'Tis well to talk of tunes. Does yours sound much 
 
 more gaily ? 
 The state of discontent in which you live grows daily. 
 No moment in the day is from your teasing fi-ee : 
 If folks would be beloved, they lovable must be. 
 And were you quite the man, happy to make a maiden ? 
 Why should I always be with your reproaches laden 
 For what is nothing ? Yes, the house is near a crash : 
 You will not do a stroke, and only spend the cash. 
 You live from hand to mouth ; your debts are always 
 
 many; 
 And when your wife wants aught, she cannot get a 
 
 penny, 
 And you won't take the pains to earn it for her. Yes : 
 Be a good man, would you a worthy wife possess. 
 Help her to pass her time, and what she needs, obtain ; 
 And as concerns the rest, you may in peace remain. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Speak to your father, then ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 That's what I've done quite lately. 
 There's many a thing we want, and trade has suffer'd 
 
 greatly. 
 I asked him yesterday to hand me something over : 
 "What," cried he, "you no cash, and Soller there in 
 
 clover ! " 
 He gave me nothing, swore, with much abuse behind it. 
 Now tell me, please, where you expect that I shall 
 
 find it ? 
 You're not a man who e'er would for his wife feel 
 
 sorrow.
 
 368 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Oh, wait, dear child ! perchance I shall receive to- 
 morrow 
 From a good friend — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Oh, yes ! from one who is a ninny. 
 I often hear of friends prepared to lend their guinea ; 
 But when we want gold, I never see that friend. 
 No, Soller, you must know that game is at an end ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 You have what needful is — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I know what you are at ; 
 But those who ne'er were poor need something more 
 
 than that. 
 The gifts of Fortune oft to spoil us are inchned : 
 We have what needful is, yet fancy her unkind. 
 The pleasure maidens love, and women too, — that 
 
 joy 
 
 I neither hunger for, nor do I find it cloy. 
 
 Fine dresses, balls ! Enough, I am a woman true. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Then go with me to-day. That's what I say to you. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 That Hke the carnival our mode of life may be, 
 A revel for a time, that's ended suddenly. 
 I'd sooner sit alone whole years together here. 
 If you will nothing save, your wife must save, — that's 
 clear.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 369 
 
 Enough already is my father's indignation : 
 I calm his wrath, and am his only consolation. 
 No ! with my money, sir, you shall not make so free : 
 A little save yourself, and something spend on me ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 My child, for just this once allow me to be merry : 
 When comes the time for mass, we'll then be serious, 
 very. 
 
 A Waiter enters. 
 
 Squire SoUer ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Well, what now ? 
 
 WAITER. 
 
 Here's Herr von Tirinette ! 
 
 The gambler ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Send him off ! Could I his name forget ! 
 
 WAITER. 
 
 See you he must, he says. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What can he want with you 1 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 He's leaving here — (To the Waiter.) — I'll come ! 
 
 (To Sophia.) He wants to say adieu. 
 
 [Exit.
 
 370 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 Scene m. 
 
 SOPHIA (alone). 
 
 He comes to dun him ! Yes, his money's lost at play : 
 He's ruining us all, and I must bear it ! Say, 
 Is this where all thy joys, thy dreams of pleasure, are ? 
 The wife of such a man ! Hast thou gone back so far ? 
 Where is the vanished time, in which the youngsters 
 
 sweet 
 In troops were wont to pay their homage at thy feet ? 
 "When each one sought to read his fate within thine 
 
 eyes ? 
 In affluence I stood, a goddess from the skies. 
 The servants of my whims all watchful round me 
 
 pressed : 
 It was enough to fill with vanity my breast. 
 And, ah ! a maiden is in evil case, in truth. 
 If she is pretty, she is ogled by each youth; 
 All day her head's confused by praises loud and strong : 
 What maiden can withstand such fiery trial long ? 
 Ye could so nobly act, one thinks your word enough, 
 Ye men ! But all at once the Devil takes you off: 
 When ye can taste by stealth, all join the feast 
 
 instanter ; 
 But if a girl's in love, ye vanish in a canter. 
 Thus gentlemen themselves in these hard times amuse, 
 Some twenty disappear, and half a one then woos. 
 I found myself at last not utterly passed o'er ; 
 But chances fewer grow, when one is twenty-four. 
 Then Seller came, and soon accepted was by me : 
 He's an unworthy wretch, but still a man is he. 
 Here sit I now, and might as well be in my grave. 
 Admirers by the score I still, indeed, might have. 
 But what would be the use ? If haply they are silly, 
 They would but breed ennui, and bore me, willy-nilly ;
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 371 
 
 And dang'rous 'tis to love, suppose your friend is clever: 
 
 He'll to your detriment his cleverness turn ever. 
 
 When love was absent, I for no attentions cared, — 
 
 And now, — Oh, my poor heart ! wert thou for this 
 prepared ? 
 
 Alcestes has returned. Ah, what new torment this ! 
 
 To see him formerly — ay, those were days of bliss. 
 
 How loved I him ! — And yet — I know not what I 
 will. 
 
 I shun him timidly, he is reserved and still ; 
 
 I am afraid of him ; my fear is fully grounded. 
 
 Ah, knew he that my heart still throbs with love un- 
 bounded ! 
 
 He comes. I tremble now. My breast feels anguish 
 new: 
 
 I know not what I will, still less what I should do. 
 
 Scene IY. — Sophia, Alcestes. 
 
 ALCESTES {dressed, hut without hat and sword). 
 Your pardon, ma'am, I pray, if I appear intrusive. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You're joking, sir : you know this room is not exclusive. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I feel that you no more to others me prefer. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I do not understand how that can hurt you, sir. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You do not, cruel one ? Can I survive your ire ?
 
 372 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Excuse me, if you please : I fear I must retire. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Oh, where, Sophia, where ? — You turn your face away, 
 Withdraw your hand? Have you no mem'ry left 
 
 to-day ? 
 Behold. Alcestes 'tis ! A hearing he entreats. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alas ! how my poor heart with wild excitement beats ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 If you're Sophia, stay ! 
 
 I must, I must away 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 In mercy, spare me, spare me ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Sophia, can't you bear me ? 
 
 cruel one ! Methought, She now is quite alone : 
 This is the very time to have some kindness shown. 
 
 1 hoped that she could speak one friendly word to me. 
 But go now, go ! 'Twas in this very room that she 
 The ardour of her love to me discovered first ; 
 
 'Twas here that into flames our mutual passion burst. 
 Upon this very spot, — remember you no more ? — 
 Eternal faith you pledged ! — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Oh, spare me, I implore !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 373. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I never can forget, — the evening was enchanting : 
 Your eyes spoke out, and I in ardour was not wanting. 
 Your lips against my hps you tremblingly did press, — 
 My heart still deeply feels that utter happiness. 
 Your only joy was then to see or think of me ; 
 And now, for me not e'en one hour will you keep free. 
 You see me seek for you ; you see how I am sad : 
 Go, false heart, go ! you ne'er for me affection had. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You torture me, when now my heart enough oppressed 
 
 is? 
 You dare to say that I have never loved Alcestes ? 
 You were my one sole wish, my greatest joy were you ; 
 For you my blood was stirred, for you my heart beat 
 
 true; 
 And this good heart which I did then to you surrender, 
 Must still remember you, can never be untender, 
 I'm often troubled still with all this recollection : 
 As fresh as it was then, remaineth my affection. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You angel ! Dearest heart ! {He attempts to embrace her.) 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 There's some one coming now. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 What, not one single word ? I ne'er can this allow. 
 Thus the whole day is spent. How wretched is my 
 
 lot! 
 I've been a fortnight here, to you have spoken not. 
 I know you love me still, but this I painful find : 
 We never are alone, we ne'er can speak our mind.
 
 374 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 Not for one moment e'er this room in peace abides : 
 Sometimes your father 'tis, your husband then besides. 
 I shall not stay here long : I can endure it never. 
 All things are possible to those who will, however. 
 Once you were always prompt, expedients to devise ; 
 And jealousy was bhnd, though with a hundred eyes. 
 And if you only — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Would bear in mind that ne'er 
 Alcestes must by you be driven to despair. 
 Beloved one, do not fail to seek a fitting spot 
 For private converse, since this place affords it not. 
 But hark ! this very night goes out your worthy spouse. 
 'Tis thought I, too, shall join a carnival-carouse. 
 The back door to my stairs is quite adjacent, so 
 No person in the house of my return will know. 
 The keys are in my hands, and if you'll me receive — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes, I'm surprised — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 And am I to believe 
 That you're no woman false ? that still your heart is 
 
 mine? 
 The only means that yet are left us, you dechne ? 
 Know you Alcestes not ? And can you still delay 
 During the night one hour to while with him away ? 
 Enough ! Sophia, I to-night may visit you ? 
 Or, if it safer seems, you'll come to me ? Adieu !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 375 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 This is too much ! 
 
 ALCESTES, 
 
 Too much ! A pretty way to speak ! 
 The deuce ! too much ! too much ! Am I week after 
 
 week 
 To waste for nothing here ? — Damnation ! why 
 
 remain 
 If you don't care ? I'll go to-morrow off again. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Eeloved one ! Best one ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Ay, my grief you see and know, 
 And you remain unmoved ! I'll hence for ever go. 
 
 Scene V. — The Above. The Host. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 A letter, sir, — from some great person, I opine. 
 The seal is very large : the paper, too, is fine. 
 
 (Alcestes tears open the letter). 
 
 host {aside). 
 What's in this letter, I should vastly like to know I 
 
 ALCESTES {who has read the letter through hastily). 
 
 To-morrow morning hence full early I must go. 
 The bill!
 
 376 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 To start off thus, at such a time of rain, 
 The letter must indeed important news contain. 
 May I perchance presume to ask your Honour why ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 No! 
 
 HOST {to SOPHIA). 
 
 Ask him : he to you will certainly reply. 
 {He goes to the table at the bottom of the stage, where 
 he takes his books out of the drawer, sits down^ 
 and makes out the bill) 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes, is it so ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Her coaxing face, just see ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes, I entreat, depart not thus from me ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Make up your mind at once to see me, then, to-night. 
 
 SOPHIA {aside). 
 
 What shall — what can I do ! He must not leave my 
 
 sight : 
 My only joy is he — 
 
 {Aloud.) You see, I never can — 
 Kemember, I'm a wife.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 377 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The Devil take the man ! 
 You'll be a widow then ! These passing hours em- 
 ploy: 
 Perchance they'll be the last, as well as first, of joy. 
 One word. At midnight, then, my love, I shall appear. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father's chamber is to mine so very near. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Well, then, you'll come to me ! Why this considerar 
 
 tion ? 
 The moments fly away 'midst all your hesitation. 
 Here, take the keys. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My key will open ev'ry door. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Then come, my darling child ! Why trifle any more ? 
 Now, will you ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 WiUI? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 WeU? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes, I will come to you. 
 
 ALCESTES {to the HOST). 
 
 Mine host, I shall not go.
 
 378 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST {advancing). 
 
 Good ! 
 {To Sophia.) Wherefore this ado ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Nought will he say. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What, nought ? 
 Scene VI. — The Above. Soller. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 My hat 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 There lies it ! here ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Adieu, I must be off. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I wish you, sir, good cheer I 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Fair madam, fare you weU ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Your humble servant!
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 379 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I first must go up-stairs. 
 
 SOLLER (aside). 
 Each day he grows more fervent. 
 
 HOST (taking a light). 
 Allow me, sir. 
 
 ALCESTES {taking it politely out of his hand). 
 
 Good host, indeed I can't consent ! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Well, Soller, you are off ! How if I also went ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Aha ! you now would fain — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 No, go ! I spoke in jest. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No, no ! I understand this longing in your breast. 
 If one a person sees who's going to a ball 
 While one must go to bed, full hard 'tis after all. 
 There'll be another soon. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Oh, yes, to wait I'm able. 
 Now, Soller, be discreet, and shun the gaming-table. 
 (^To the Host, who has meanwhile been standing in 
 deep thought.) 
 And now, good night, papa. I'm off to bed, you see.
 
 380 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST 
 Good night, Sophia dear. 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 Sleep well! 
 {Looking after her) Eight fair is she ! 
 {He runs after her, and kisses her again at the door. 
 Sleep well, my lamb ! 
 
 {To the Host.) And you will also go to bed ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 A devil's letter that ! I'd like to hear it read ! 
 {To SoLLEK.) Now, Carnival ! Good night ! 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 Thanks ! Calm be your repose ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Good SoUer, when you go, take care the door to close ! 
 
 (^Exit.^ 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 You needn't be alarmed ! 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 SOLLEE (alone). 
 
 What song will now be sung ? 
 Oh, that accursed play ! I wish the rogue were hung ! 
 His figures were not fair, and I must bear it too ! 
 He storms and fumes away : I know not what to do. 
 Suppose . . . Alcestes gold has got . . . and my false 
 
 keys — 
 I'm sure at my expense he fain himself would please. 
 I long have hated him ; around my wife he slinks ;
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 381 
 
 And now, just for this once, I'll be his guest, methinks. 
 But then, if it were known, there'd be the deuce to 
 
 pay — 
 I'm now in such distress, I know no other way. 
 The gamester claims his gold, or threatens vengeance 
 
 deep. 
 Then, Soller, courage take ! The whole house is asleep. 
 And if it be found out, they'll find me safely bedded : 
 Thieves oft escape who are to handsome women wedded. 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Alcestes's Room. 
 
 The stage is divided in its length into parlour and alcove. 
 On one side of the parlour stands a table, on which 
 are papers and a strong box. At the bottom is a 
 large door, and at the side a small one, opposite 
 the alcove. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 SOLLER (m his domino, with a mash on his face, with- 
 out shoes, a dark lantern in his hand, enters at the 
 little door, and turns the light fearfully round the 
 room : he then advances more boldly, takes off his 
 mask and speaks). 
 
 One need not valiant be, in following one's calling : 
 One through the world may go by cunning and by 
 
 crawling. 
 While one, to get a bag of gold, or p'rhaps his death. 
 With pistols armed, will come and say mth bated 
 
 breath, 
 " Give up your purse, and lose no time about it, pray,"
 
 382 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 As quietly as if he only said, Good day. 
 
 Another round you steals, and with his magic passes 
 
 And sleight-of-hand your watch soon in his power, 
 
 alas ! is ; 
 And when you seek it, he says boldly to your face, 
 " I'll steal it. Take good care ; " and that is soon the case. 
 But Nature gave me ne'er endowments such as that : 
 My heart too tender is, my fingers are too fat. 
 Yet, not to be a rogue, is difficult indeed : 
 Each day the cash grows less, each day the more we 
 
 need. 
 You now have made the leap : take care that you don't 
 
 fall! 
 Each person in the house beheves I'm at the balL 
 Alcestes at the fete is now ; my wife's alone : 
 Has constellation e'er a better aspect shown ? 
 
 {Approaching the table.) 
 Oh, come, thou holy one ! Thou god in this strong box ! 
 Without thee, e'en a king is scarcely orthodox. 
 Ye picklocks, many thanks ! your merit is untold : 
 Through you I capture him, the mighty picklock, — 
 
 Gold ! ( Whilst he is trying to open the strong lox.') 
 An extra clerk I once was in a court of justice : 
 I didn't stop there long, — so little people's trust is. 
 'Twas write, write, write, aU day, with trouble stiU 
 
 increasing : 
 The prospects were not good, the drudgery unceasing ; 
 'Twas insupportable. A thief was caught one day : 
 False keys were on him found, and he was hanged 
 
 straightway. 
 Tenacious of her rights is justice known to be : 
 A subaltern was I, the false keys fell to me. 
 I picked them up. A thing may seem for Httle fit. 
 But there may come a time when you'll be glad of it. 
 And now [The lock springs open). 
 
 lovely coin ! I feel hke one possessed. 
 
 (He puts money in his pockety
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 383 
 
 My pocket swells with cash, with rapture swells my 
 
 breast — 
 Unless 'tis fright. But hark ! Ye coward limbs ! 
 
 Pooh, pooh ! 
 Why tremble thus ? — Enough ! 
 
 (^He looks into the strong hox again, and takes 
 more money?) 
 
 Once more ! Yes, that will do. 
 
 {He closes it and starts.^ 
 
 Again ? There's something stirs ! This house was 
 
 never haunted — 
 The devil 'tis, perchance ! His presence isn't wanted. 
 Is it a cat ? But no ! Tom-cats walk hghter, rather. 
 Be quick ! They're at the lock — 
 
 {He springs into the alcove.) 
 
 Scene II. — The Host {entering at the side door with 
 a wax candle). Soller. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 The deuce ! It's my wife's father ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 'Tis folly to possess a nervous disposition : 
 Half guilty only yet, my heart's in ebullition. 
 Inquisitive I ne'er in all my Hfe have been. 
 But in that letter some great secret may be seen. 
 The papers are so dull, they long have nothing told : 
 The newest thing one hears is always one month old. 
 And then, indeed, it is a most excessive bore. 
 When each one says : " Oh, yes ! I've read your tale 
 
 before." 
 Were I a cavaher, a minister I'd be ; 
 Then all the couriers needs must bring their news to me. 
 This letter I can't find. Perchance he left it not : 
 If so, confound it all ! There's nothing to be got.
 
 384 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER {aside). 
 
 You good old fool ! I see the god of news and thieves 
 Less worship gets from you than he from me receives. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I cannot find it — Hah ! — Just hark ! What noise is 
 
 that 
 In the saloon ? — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Perchance he smells me ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 By the pat, 
 It is a woman's foot. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 That hardly meets my case. 
 HOST (blows out his candle, and lets it fall, whilst in his 
 
 confusion he cannot unlock the little door). 
 This lock still bothers me. 
 
 (^Pushes open the door, and exit.') 
 
 Scene III. — Sophia, entering at the bottom door with a 
 light. SoLLER. 
 
 SOLLER (aside, in the alcove). 
 
 It is a woman's face ! 
 Hell ! Devil ! 'Tis my wife ! What can this indicate ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I quake at this bold step.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 385 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 'Tis she, as sure as fate ! 
 A pretty rendezvous ! But now suppose again 
 I showed myself ! My neck would be in danger then. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Just follow in Love's wake! With friendly mien he 
 
 first 
 Allures you on awhile — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I feel that I shall burst. 
 But I dare not — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 . But if you ever lose your way, 
 'No ignis fatuus e'en such cruel tricks will play. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 A bog to you would prove less than this room a curse. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Matters have long gone ill, but now grow daily worse. 
 My husband gets quite wild. He always caused me 
 
 trouble ; 
 But now so bad is he, I hate him nearly double. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 You wretch ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 He has my hand. Alcestes, as erewhile, 
 My heart possesses still. •
 
 386 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 Enchantment, poison vile 
 Were not so bad! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 This heart, which for him fiercely burned, 
 And which from him alone the art of love first 
 learned — 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 The deuce ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 . . . Was calm and cold, ere softened by Alcestes. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Ye husbands, hear the tale that now by her con- 
 fessed is ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes loved me well.. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 That's over long ago. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 And how I loved him too ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Mere child's play, as you know. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Fate parted us ; and, ah ! my sins to expiate, 
 
 I needs must wed a brute. — Oh, what a dreadful fate !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 3^7 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 A brute am I ? — A brute ? A brute with horns, too» 
 now. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What see I ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Madam, what ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father's candle ! How 
 Could it come here ? — Suppose. ... If so, I needs 
 
 must fly. 
 Perchance he's watching us ! — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Your scourge, conscience, ply 1 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yet I can't understand how he could lose it here. 
 
 SOLLEE. 
 
 Fears she her father not, the devil she won't fear. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Ah, no ! all in the house in deepest slumber He. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Ay, lust more potent is than fear of penalty. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father is in bed. — How ever could it be ? 
 Well, be it so !
 
 388 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes, where is he ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Oh, could I but — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My heart forebodes some coming evil : 
 I love and fear him too. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I fear him like the devil, 
 And more too. If he came, I'd say: "Good king 
 
 infernal, 
 If you will take them off, I'll owe you thanks etemaL" 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Thou art too honest, heart! What crime committest 
 
 thou? 
 Thou vowedst to be true ? Why care for such a vow ? 
 True to that man to be, who has no single merit, 
 Who is so very coarse, false, foolish ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Thanks, I hear it ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 If one may not detest such monsters for their pains, 
 I much prefer the land where devil-worship reigns. 
 He is a devil !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 389 
 
 SOLLER. 
 What ? A devil ? Monster ? Me ! 
 I cannot bear it more. (^He is about to spring out.) 
 
 Scene IV. — Alcestes {dressed with hat and sword, 
 covered with a cloak, which he immediately takes 
 off). The Above. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You're waiting, then, I see. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Sophia came here first. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You fear ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I'm fainting nearly. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 No, dearest, no ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 How fond ! Preliminaries merely. 
 
 SOPHLA.. 
 
 You feel how much this heart has suffered for your 
 
 sake, — 
 This heart you understand : forgive the step I take ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Sophia !
 
 39° THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Ne'er shall I, if you forgive it, rue. 
 
 SOLLER, 
 
 You'd better ask of me if I forgive it too. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What made me hither come ? In truth, I scarce know 
 why. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I know it but too well. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 As one that dreams am I. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Would I were dreaming too ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 A heart full of distress 
 I bring to you. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 To tell one's trouble makes it less. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 A sympathetic heart like yours I ne'er did see. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 When you together yawn, you call that sympathy ! 
 Delightful !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 391 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 And when thus a perfect man I've found. 
 Why to your opposite am I for ever bound ? 
 I have a heart which ne'er to virtue said adieu. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I know it. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Yes, and I. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Though lovable are you, 
 
 One single word from me you never should have 
 guessed, 
 
 Unless tliis hapless heart were hopelessly oppressed. 
 
 I day by day behold our house to ruin go. 
 
 The life my husband leads ! How can we go on so ! 
 
 I know he loves me not ; my tears he never sees : 
 
 And when my father storms, him too must I appease. 
 
 Each morning with it brings fresh ground for provoca- 
 tion. 
 
 SOLLER {touched after a fashion). 
 Poor woman ! I confess there's cause for her vexation. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My husband has no wish to lead a proper life : 
 In vain I talk ; no man has such a yielding wife. 
 He revels all the day, makes debts on ev'ry side : 
 At once he plays, fights, sneaks, and quarrels far and 
 
 wide. 
 His only wit consists in folly and wild pranks, 
 His only cleverness is that of mountebanks. 
 He hes, traduces, cheats.
 
 392 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 She's gath'ring now, I see. 
 Materials to compose my fun'ral eulogy. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 The torments I endure are quite enough to kill, 
 Did I not know — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Speak out ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes loves me still. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 He loves, complains like you. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 It mitigates my pain, 
 From one, at least, — from you, — compassion to obtain. 
 Alcestes, by this hand, this dear hand, I entreat 
 That you will ever keep your heart unchanged, 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 How sweet 
 Her words are ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 For this heart, which save for you ne'er glowed, 
 No other comfort knows than that by you bestowed. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I know of nought that's fit to match your noble heart. 
 {He takes Sophia in his arms and kisses her.) 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Alas ! will no kind fate appear, to take my part ? 
 My heart is full of woe.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 393 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 My friend ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 'Tis quite enough. 
 I'm altogether sick of friendship and such stuff. 
 And since it seems that they have nothing more to say, 
 I wish they'd kiss no more, and forthwith go their 
 way! 
 
 SOPHLL 
 
 Unkind one, let me go ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 The deuce ! What affectation ! 
 " Unkind one, let me go ! " that means capitulation. 
 " You ought to be ashamed ! " the stale cry is of many. 
 As down the hill they faU. I wouldn't give a penny 
 Now for her virtue. 
 
 SOPHIA {extricating herself). 
 
 Friend, one final parting kiss, 
 And then farewell ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You go ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I go, for needful 'tis. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You love me, and you go ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I go, because I love. 
 I soon should lose a friend, did I not quickly move. 
 The course of one's laments to run at night prefers. 
 In some sure spot, where nought to startle us occurs.
 
 394 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 We more confiding grow, when calmly we complain ; 
 
 But for our weaker sex, the risks increase amain. 
 
 In over-confidence too many dangers he : 
 
 A sorrow-softened heart the mouth will not deny 
 
 At such a happy time to friends for friendship's kisses. 
 
 A friend is still a man — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 She knows full well what this is. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Farewell, and be assured that I am still your lover. 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 Quite close above my head the storm is passing over. 
 {Exit Sophia. Alcestes accompanies her through 
 the middle door, which remains open. They 
 are seen to stand together in the distance. 
 For this once be content. I've small time for reflec- 
 tion: 
 The moment 'tis to fly ; I'm off in this direction. 
 
 {He quits the alcove, and hastens through the side 
 door.) 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 alcestes {returning). 
 
 What wouldest thou, my heart ? Indeed, 'tis passing 
 
 strange. 
 How that dear creature has for thee endured no 
 
 change ! 
 Thy early gratitude for those past hours so bright 
 Of love's first happiness, has not departed quite. 
 What have I purposed not ! Wliat feelings have been 
 
 mine ! 
 Still uneffaced remains that image all divine,
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 395 
 
 Where love, in glorious wise, its presence first 
 
 avowed, — 
 The image at whose shrine my heart with reverence 
 
 bowed. 
 How all is altered now ! What change comes o'er our 
 
 lives ! 
 Yet of that sacred glow a something still survives. 
 If truly thou'lt confess what made thee hither come, 
 The page will be turned o'er, thy love afresh will 
 
 bloom. 
 And thy free-thinking ways, thy distant schemes, the 
 
 shame 
 By thee for her devised, the plan which thou didst 
 
 frame, — 
 How vile they now appear ! Thou art distressed at 
 
 last? 
 Before thou snaredst her, she long had held thee fast ! 
 This is the lot of man ! We hurry on apace, 
 And he who thinks the most is in the saddest case. 
 But now to urgent things : a plan must I invent 
 Whereby to-morrow she may have some money lent. 
 It is a cursed mischance : her fate my pity wakes. 
 Her husband, that vile wretch, her life a burden makes. 
 I've got here just enough. Let's think ! — yes, it will do. 
 Were I a stranger e'en, her hard lot I must rue. 
 But, ah ! this mournful thought my heart and mind 
 
 oppresses — 
 My conduct far too much the cause of her distress is. 
 I could not hinder it ; to happen thus 'twas fated. 
 What cannot now be changed, may be alleviated. 
 
 {He ojpens the strong box.) 
 The Devil ! What is this ? My strong box empty 
 
 nearly ? 
 Of all the silver there, three-fourths have vanished 
 
 clearly. 
 I have the gold with me. The keys are in my 
 
 pocket ! —
 
 396 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 All since the afternoon ! My room — who could un- 
 lock it ? 
 
 Sophia ? Pshaw ! But yes, — Sophia ! Base suspicion ! 
 
 My servant ? No ! that's, too, a foohsh supposition. 
 
 He's fast asleep. Good man, his innocence I know. 
 
 Who then ? By heaven, the thought impatient makes 
 me grow. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Tlie Inn Parlour. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 (^In a dressing-gown, sitting near the table, on which are 
 a half-hurnt candle, coffee-things, pipes and news- 
 vapers. After the first few verses he rises, and 
 dresses hirnself during this scene and the beginning 
 of the next. 
 
 That letter, hang the thing ! of sleep and rest it rohs me. 
 This comes from doing what I oughtn't, well I see. 
 It seems impossible to make this matter out : 
 When one is doing wrong, the Devil's there, no doubt. 
 'Twas my vocation ne'er, and therefore I'm afraid ; 
 And yet of any host it never should be said 
 He fears, when in the house strange noises he perceives. 
 For ghosts, as is well known, are close allied with 
 
 thieves. 
 No man was in the house, not Soller nor Alcestes ; 
 The waiter it was not ; each maiden gone to rest is. 
 But stop ! At early dawn, perchance 'tween three and 
 
 four, 
 I heard a gentle noise : it was Sophia's door. 
 She, maybe, was the ghost at whose approach I fled : 
 It was a woman's foot, just like Sophia's tread. 
 But then, what did she there ? One knows that 
 
 women-kind
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 397 
 
 To pulling things about and meddling are inclined : 
 Guests' clothes and linen they inspect. I wish I first 
 Had finely frightened her, then into laughter burst. 
 She would have searched with me — the letter had 
 
 been found: 
 My efforts, now in vain, had with success been crowned. 
 Curse it ! One ne'er can think when one is in a strait, 
 And any plan that's good is thought of just too late ! 
 
 Scene II. — The Host, Sophia. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father, only think ! — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You do not say good-morrow ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Oh, pardon me, papa ! my head is full of sorrow. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 And why ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes' cash, which he received so lately. 
 Has altogether gone. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 That comes from gambling greatly. 
 They can't restrain themselves. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Not so : 'tis stolen ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What!
 
 398 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes, stolen from his room ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I wish the thief were shot ! 
 Who is it ? Quick ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Who knows ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What ! In this house, you say ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Out of the box which on his table stands aU day. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 And when ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 This night ! 
 
 (host aside). 
 
 Since I so curious was, the scandal 
 Will surely fall on me, for they wiU find my candle. 
 
 SOPHIA (aside). 
 
 He mutters, looks confused. Can he the culprit be ? 
 That he was in the room, his candle proves to me. 
 
 HOST (aside). 
 
 Can she have taken it ? The notion makes me swear : 
 Cash yesterday ran short, and she to-night was there. 
 (Aloud.) This is a dreadful mess. Who injures us 
 
 take heed ! 
 Eespectable and cheap our watchwords are indeed.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 399 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Though he may bear the loss, 'tis we who'll suffer most : 
 The public will be sure to lay it to the host. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I know that but too well. A dreadful mess, no doubt. 
 If 'tis a house-thief, who will find the rascal out ? 
 Much trouble it will give. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What shall we do ? Good lack ! 
 
 HOST {aside). 
 
 Aha, she's much disturbed ! 
 
 {Aloud, in a more peevish tone.) I wish he had it back ! 
 
 Eight glad were I. 
 
 SOPHIA {aside). 
 
 He now repents, 'tis my belief, 
 {Aloud) And if it were restored, whoever was the 
 
 thief. 
 He need not know, and soon 'twill from his memory 
 
 pass. 
 
 HOST {aside). 
 
 If she is not the thief then write me down an ass. 
 {Aloud.) A good child you have been. My confidence 
 
 in you — 
 Just wait ! {He goes to the door to see.) 
 
 SOPHIA {aside). 
 By heaven ! he means to make confession true !
 
 400 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 My child, I know you well. A lie you never told — 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Sooner from all the world than you I'd aught withhold ; 
 And so I hope that now you'll also be assured — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You are my child : what can't be cured must be endured. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 The best of hearts sometimes is subject to temptation. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Oh, let the past no more occasion us vexation ! 
 That you were in the room, no mortal knows but I. 
 
 SOPHIA {startled). 
 You know ? — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yes, I was there. I heard you passing by. 
 I knew not who it was, and started off full speed. 
 
 SOPHIA {aside). 
 Yes, he the money has. There's now no doubt indeed. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 This morning heard I you, I lately recollected. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 And, what is best of all, you will not be suspected : 
 I found the candle —
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 401 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes, I ! 
 
 HOST, 
 
 'Tis passing strange ! 
 To give it back again, how can we best arrange ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You'll say, ** Alcestes, sir, do spare my house, I pray ! 
 Behold your money, I have found the thief to-day. 
 You know yourself how great we find temptation's 
 
 force : 
 He scarcely had the cash, when vast was his remorse. 
 He came and gave it me. Here 'tis! Let him be 
 
 pardoned 
 Tor his offence ! " — I'm sure Alcestes' heart's not 
 
 hardened. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You certainly can use persuasion soft as honey. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes, that's the proper way. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I first must have the money. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You have it not ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 How I should have it, I can't see.
 
 402 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 How have it ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yes ! Well, how ? Unless you give it me. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Who has it ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Who? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Of course, if 'tis not you ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Absurd. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Where have you put it ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I can't understand a word. 
 You haven't got it ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 How could that be so ? 
 
 HOST {making signs as if he were stealing). 
 Eh!
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 403 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 I can't undeFstand ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Quite shameless, child, you grow. 
 You slip away when comes the time for restitution. 
 You have confess'd. For shame on such irresolution ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 This is too much ! You now make this vile accusation. 
 Just now you said that you gave way to the temptation. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You toad ! I said so ? When ? Is this the way you 
 
 love me. 
 And show me due respect ? A thief you try to prove 
 
 me, 
 When you're the thief yourseK ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 My father ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 This morning in the room ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 Yet you were 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yet you still can dare 
 
 To say you've not the cash ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 That does not follow.
 
 404 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Yes ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You, too, were there to-day — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I'll pull your hair, unless 
 You hold your tongue and go ! {Exit Sophia crying.) 
 
 You take the joke too far, 
 Unworthy one ! — She's gone ! Too impudent you are. 
 Perchance she thinks that lies will make him over- 
 look it. 
 Enough, the money's gone, and she's the one who 
 took it. 
 
 Scene III. — Alcestes {in deep thought, in a frock- 
 coat). The Host. 
 
 HOST {in an embarrassed and entreating tone). 
 
 Eight sorrowful am I at what I've lately heard. 
 Well understand I, sir, how you by wrath are stirr'd ; 
 And yet I beg that you will nothing say about it, 
 And I will do what's right. I pray you do not doubt it. 
 If in the town 'tis known, 'twill fill my foes with glee, 
 And their maliciousness will throw the guilt on me. 
 It was no stranger, sir. The culprit is indoors. 
 Be calm, and soon again the money shall be yours. 
 Pray, what was the amount ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 A hundred dollars ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What!
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 40S 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 A hundred dollars, though — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Contemptible are not ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Yet I am quite disposed my pardon to bestow, 
 Could I the culprit's name, and how he did it, know. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Had I the money back, I ne'er would ask, I vow, 
 If Michael or if Jack had taken it, or how. 
 
 ALCESTES {aside). 
 
 My old attendant ? No, he cannot be the thief. 
 And from my chamber too — It passes all behef. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Why rack your brains like this ? The trouble is in 
 
 vain. 
 Enough, I'll find the cash ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 My cash ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I ask again 
 That none may know of it! We long have known 
 
 each other : 
 Enough, I'U find your cash, so give yourself no bother ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You know then ? —
 
 4o6 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 H'm ! The cash you soon shall have, however. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 But only tell me this — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Not for the world, no, never ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Just tell me who it was. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I say, I dare not say. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 'Twas some one in the house ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Don't ask me that, I pray ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Was it the servant girl ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Good Hannah ? No, not she. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The waiter 'twas, perchance ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 No, neither was it he.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 407. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The cook's a skilful hand — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 At dishing up a dinner. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The scullion Jack ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 He ne'er would be so great a sinner. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The gard'ner it might be ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 No, wrong again, I guess. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The gard'ner's son ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 No, no ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Perchance — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 The house-dog ? — Yes ! 
 
 ALCESTES (aside). 
 
 Just wait a bit, old fool ! I'll catch you by and by. 
 (Aloud.) Whoever was the thief, it doesn't signify, 
 If I my money get. (He pretends to be leaving.)
 
 4o8 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 True ! 
 
 ALCESTES (as if a sudden thought struck him). 
 
 Host, I see by chance, sir. 
 My inkstand's empty. I this letter straight must 
 answer. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What ! Yesterday it came : to answer it to-day, 
 Shows that it weighty is. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I ought not to delay. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 It is a charming thing to have to correspond. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 It is not always so. The time one loses on't 
 Is worth more than the game. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 'Tis like a game of cards : 
 A single trump turns up, and past ill-luck rewards. 
 The letter yesterday important news, however, 
 Contains. Might I inquire — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Not for the world, no, never ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Nought from America ?
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 409 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I say, I dare not say. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Is Frederick ill again ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Don't ask me that, I pray ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Are matters changed in Hesse ? are people going ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 No! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Perchance the Emperor — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Yes, that may well be so. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Things in the North go wrong ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I cannot swear to that 
 
 HOST. 
 
 They secretly conspire ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Oh ! people love to chat.
 
 4IO THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 There's no disaster, though ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Bravo ! You soon will guess. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Perchance in the late frost — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The hares were frozen ? — Yes ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You don't appear to place much confidence in me. 
 
 ALCESTES, 
 
 When folks mistrustful are, we trust them not, you see. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 What mark of confidence will suit your purpose better ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Well, tell me who's the thief : you then shall read my 
 
 letter. 
 Right good the bargain is, which I to you now offer. 
 Will you the letter have ? 
 
 HOST {confused and eagerly). 
 
 I must accept your proffer ! 
 {Aside.) Would it were something else, which he from 
 me would learn !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 411 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You see that one good turn deserves another turn. 
 That I'll the secret keep, I by my honour swear. 
 
 HOST {aside). 
 
 Would that this letter now less appetising were ! 
 But if Sophia — she should see my tribulation ! 
 No mortal could resist such wonderful temptation. 
 To master its contents, I all impatience am. 
 
 ALCESTES {aside). 
 No greyhound ever rushed so wildly at a ham. 
 
 HOST {ashamed, giving way, and still hesitating). 
 Well, as you wish it, sir, your great civility — 
 
 ALCESTES {aside). 
 He's biting now — 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Demands like confidence from me. 
 {Douhtfully and half entreatingly.) 
 You'll let me see at once the letter, sir, because — 
 
 ALCESTES {holding out the letter). 
 This moment ! 
 
 HOST {slowly approaching alcestes vnth his eyes fixed 
 on the letter). 
 
 Well, the thief — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The thief !
 
 412 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Who stole it, was — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Well, out with it ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Was my — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 WeU! 
 
 HOST (m a resolute tone, whilst he comes up to ALCESTES, 
 and tears the letter from his hand). 
 
 Was my daughter ! 
 
 ALCESTES (astonished). 
 
 Whatl 
 
 HOST (comes forward, tears the cover to pieces in his 
 eagerness to open the letter, and begins to read). 
 
 " Eight honourable sir ! " 
 
 ALCESTES (taking him by the shoulder). 
 
 'Twas she ? You're telling not 
 The truth. 
 
 HOST (impatiently). 
 
 Yes, it was she ! And much distressed am I. 
 (Re reads.) " And also " — 
 
 ALCESTES (as ahove). 
 No, good host ! Sophia ! 'Tis a lie I
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 413 
 
 HOST (tears himself loose, and continues without answer- 
 ing him). 
 
 *' My much respected " — 
 
 ALCESTES {as ahove). 
 
 What ! The guilty one was she ? 
 I'm quite confounded. 
 
 HOST. 
 
 "Sir" — 
 
 ALCESTES {as above). 
 
 Now, pray just answer me! 
 
 How came it all about ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 You by and by shall hear. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Is it quite sure ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Quite sure 
 
 ALCESTES {to himself, as he goes out). 
 
 Methinks my course is clear. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 HOST {reads and speaks between whiles). 
 
 " And patron " — Has he gone ? — " The very friendly 
 
 way 
 In which you view my faults, induces me to-day 
 Once more to trouble you" — What faults would he 
 
 confess ?
 
 414 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 " I feel assured, kind sir, you'll share my happiness." 
 That's good ! — " To-day kind Heaven another joy has 
 
 brought, 
 And you're the first of whom my thankful heart has 
 
 thought. 
 My dear wife is confined of her sixth son." — With 
 
 rage 
 I'm fit to die ! — " The boy appeared upon the stage 
 Quite early." — Hang or drown the brat ! the vile in- 
 vention ! 
 " And I make bold to ask if, in your condescension " — 
 I feel about to choke ! To suffer such a blow, 
 Just when I'm getting old ! I wiU not bear it, no ! 
 Just wait a bit ! Your due reward shall you receive : 
 Alcestes, you shaU see ! My house you straight shall 
 
 leave. 
 So good a friend as me thus shamefully to treat ! 
 I'd fain inflict on him a retribution meet. 
 But then my daughter ! Oh ! in such a scrape to get 
 
 her ! 
 And I've betrayed her for a mere godfather's letter ! 
 
 {He seizes hold of his wig.) 
 Oh, donkey that I am ! I'm in my dotage now ! 
 Oh, letter, cash, and trick ! I'll kill myself, I vow ! 
 "With what shall I begin ? How punish such vile 
 
 tricks ? 
 
 (He grasps a stick, and runs round the stage.) 
 If any one comes near, I'll thrash him into snicks. 
 If I but had them here who planned the thing so wisely, 
 By all the powers that be, I'd currycomb them nicely ! 
 I'll die unless I can — I'd give a sight of cash 
 To see the servant now a glass or bottle smash ! 
 I shall devour myself. — Eevenge, revenge for me ! 
 
 {He attacks his armchair and thrashes it.) 
 Ha ! Thou art dusty ? Come ! I'll take it out of thee I
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 415 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 The Hosf continuing to strike. Soller enters and is 
 frightened. He is in his domino, with his mask 
 hound to his arm, and is half intoxicated. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 What's this ? Why, is he mad ? Methinks I'd best 
 
 be mute ! 
 I shouldn't care to be that armchair's substitute ! 
 Some evil spirit has the old man seized to-day : 
 'Twere better I were off. It isn't safe to stay. 
 
 HOST {without seeing soller). 
 
 I can no more ! Alas ! how ache both back and arm ! 
 {He throws himself into the armchair) 
 My body's in a sweat. 
 
 SOLLER {aside). 
 
 Yes, motion makes us warm. 
 {He shows himself to the Host.) 
 
 Good father ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Oh, the brute ! The night in revels spends he : 
 I vex myself to death, and de'il a bit attends he. 
 The Shrovetide fool his cash at play and dancing loses, 
 And laughs, while holding here his carnival the deuce 
 is! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 In such a rage ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Just wait! No longer wiU I call so.
 
 4i6 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 What now ? 
 
 HOST. ■?> 
 
 Alcestes ! Child ! Shall I inform him also ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No ! no ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 If you were hanged, 'twould be for me much better ; 
 And that Alcestes, too, with his confounded letter. 
 
 {Eayit.) 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 SOLLER (pie very 'picture of terror). 
 
 What's this ? Alas ! Perchance, ere many minutes 
 flee — 
 
 Take good care of your skull ! Your back will cud- 
 gelled be. 
 
 P'raps all has been found out. I'm in a burning fever, 
 
 So dreadful is my fright. Why, Doctor Faustus never 
 
 Was in so bad a case, or Eichard Crook-back e'en ! 
 
 HeU here, the gallows there, the cuckold in between ! 
 {He runs about like a madman, and finally re- 
 covers himself.) 
 
 One's never happy made by stolen goods, you know. 
 
 Go, coward, scoundrel, go ! Why are you frightened so ? 
 
 Perchance 'tis not so bad. I'll soon know how I'll fare. 
 {He sees Alcestes and runs away.) 
 
 Alas ! 'tis he ! 'tis he ! He'll seize me by the hair !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 417 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 ALCESTES {fully dressed, with hat and sword). 
 
 How fearful is the blow by which my heart oppressed 
 
 is! 
 That wondrous creature whom the fancy of Alcestes 
 So tenderly the shrine of ev'ry virtue thought, 
 Who him the highest grade of fairest love first taught, 
 In whom god, maiden, friend, in one were all so blended, 
 And now so much abased ! That vision now is ended. 
 'Tis well p'raps to descend a height so superhuman : 
 Like other women now, she's nothing but a woman ; 
 But then, so deep ! so deep ! That drives me into 
 
 madness. 
 My contumacious heart yearns after her with sadness. 
 How mean ? Can'st thou not turn to good account the 
 
 change ? 
 Seize on the proffer'd bliss that comes in form so 
 
 strange ! 
 A matchless woman, whom you love so very dearly, 
 Needs cash. Alcestes, quick ! The pence you give 
 
 her, clearly 
 Would turn to pounds. But now, the cash herself she 
 
 takes, — 
 'Tis well ! If she once more parade of virtue makes. 
 Go ! pluck your courage up, and speak thus in cold 
 
 blood : 
 *' You, madam, have perchance the money taken ? 
 
 Good! 
 I'm heartily rejoiced. Let no reserve be shown 
 In such a small affair, but treat mine as your own. 
 A confidential tone, as though 'tween man and wife, — 
 And virtue's self, if you enact it to the life. 
 Won't be alarmed, but e'en to yield will soon incline. 
 She comes 1 You are confused ? 'Tis an unhappy sign !
 
 4i8 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 You guilty deem yourself ; you cheat me in addition ; 
 Your heart is ill-disposed, but weak's your disposition.^ 
 
 Scene VIIL — Alcestes, Sophia. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes, what means this? My sight you seem to 
 
 shun — 
 Has sohtude for you such vast attractions won ? 
 
 alcestes. 
 
 I know not what it is impels me at this season : 
 We oft soliloquise without a special reason. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Your loss indeed is great, and well may cause vexation. 
 
 alcestes. 
 
 It nothing signifies : I feel no irritation. 
 
 To lose a little cash small self-restraint demands : 
 
 Who knows but that it may have fallen in good hands ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 No loss will your kind heart allow on us to fall. 
 
 1 In the later editions, the following five lines take the place of 
 the nine concluding lines of this scene : 
 
 " You find yourself in need of ready money ? Good ! 
 No secret of it make ! Let no reserve be shovi^n 
 In taking what is mine, but treat it as your own." — 
 She comes ! All my false calm at once has flown away. 
 You think she took the cash, and yet would say her nay. 
 
 £. A. B. 
 
 1
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 4^9 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 A little openness this pain had saved us all. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 How must I take this ? 
 
 ALCESTES {smiling). 
 What? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 What can your meaning be ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Sophia, me you know ! Have confidence in me ! 
 The money's gone, and where 'tis lying, let it lie ! 
 I should have held my tongue, if sooner known had I 
 That thus the matter stands — 
 
 SOPHIA {astonished). 
 
 You know, then, all about it ? 
 
 ALCESTES {with tenderness ; he seizes her hand and 
 kisses it). 
 
 Your father ! Yes, I know : my dearest, do not doubt 
 it! 
 
 (SOPHIA surprised and ashamed). 
 And you forgive ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 A joke, who'd deem it as a crime ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Methinks —
 
 420 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Pray suffer me to speak my mind this time. 
 Alcestes' heart toward you with love's still running 
 
 over. 
 Eate severed you from me, and yet I am your lover ; 
 Your heart is ever mine, as mine unchanged you find ; 
 My money's yours as though by law assigned ; 
 You have an equal right to all that I possess ; 
 Take what you will, if with your love you me will 
 
 bless. {He embraces her, and she is silent.) 
 Command whate'er you want! I'm quite prepared to 
 
 grant it. 
 
 SOPHIA (haughtily, whilst she tears herself away from 
 
 him). 
 
 I prize your money, sir ! Indeed, I do not want it. 
 I scarcely understand a tone so strange and fervent. 
 Ha ? You mistake me — 
 
 ALCESTES {piqued). 
 
 Oh ! your most obedient servant 
 Knows you indeed too well ; and what he wants, he 
 
 knows, 
 And sees not why your wrath thus suddenly o'erflows. 
 When one so far goes wrong — 
 
 SOPHIA {astonished). 
 Goes wrong ? Pray, in what sense ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Madam ! 
 
 SOPHIA {angrily). 
 What mean you, sir ?
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 421 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Forgive my diffidence. 
 I love you far too much to think of teUing it. 
 
 SOPHIA (with indignation). 
 Alcestes ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Well, then, ask papa, if you think fit ! 
 He knows, so seems it — 
 
 SOPHIA (with an outbreak of vehemence as above). 
 
 What ? Give me an answer true ! 
 I am not joking, sir ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 He says that it was you — 
 
 SOPHIA (as above). 
 Well, what ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 That it was you, — by whom the cash was taken. 
 
 SOPHIA (with anger and tears, while she turns away). 
 He dares ? God ! By shame so utterly forsaken ! 
 
 ALCESTES (entreatingly). 
 Sophia ! 
 
 SOPHIA (turned away from him). 
 
 You're not worth — 
 
 ALCESTES {as above). 
 Sophia ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Leave the place I
 
 42 2 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Pray pardon me 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Away ! Forgive such conduct base ? 
 My father scruples not to rob me of my honour ! 
 Oh, poor Sophia ! Thus Alcestes looks upon her ? 
 Sooner than tell the truth, my hfe I'd forfeit rather — 
 But now it must come out ! — The robber — was my 
 father ! {Exit hastily.) 
 
 Scene IX. 
 Alcestes. Afterward Soller. 
 
 ALCESTES, 
 
 Would I could make it out ! Here is a pretty mess ! 
 Only the Devil now this riddle strange can guess ! 
 Two persons who the best of characters have had, 
 Accuse each other ! — 'Tis enough to drive one mad. 
 No story such as this has ever reached my ears. 
 And yet I've known them both for many, many years. 
 This is a case where thought no proper clue reveals : 
 The more one meditates, the greater fool one feels. 
 Sophia ! the old man ! Could either of them thieve ? 
 Had Soller been accused, that well could I believe : 
 On him could but one spark of mere suspicion fall ! 
 But he the livelong night, I know, was at the ball. 
 
 SOLLEK {in his usual dress and rather intoxicated). 
 
 There sits the Devil's imp, after his night-long revel ! 
 Could I but seize your neck, I'd scrag you, master 
 Devil! 
 
 ALCESTES {aside). 
 
 He comes as if bespoke ! 
 
 (Aloud.^ Well, Soller, what's the news ?
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 423 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 The noise the music made has given me the blues. 
 
 (He rubs his forehead.^ 
 My headache's dreadful. 
 
 . ALCESTES. 
 
 You were at the ball : were many 
 Ladies there too ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 About as usual ! When there's any 
 Bacon, the mice will seek the trap. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Was't merry ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Quite ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You danced ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I but looked on. 
 (Aside) At your fine dance last night ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 What ! Soller did not dance ? Why, how came that 
 about ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I went there with the full intention, there's no doubt. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 And yet you didn't ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No ! My headache was so bad. 
 And so, for dancing not, a good excuse I had.
 
 424 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Indeed ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 And what was worse, I found out to my cost. 
 The more I heard and saw, I sight and hearing lost. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 So bad ? I'm sorry for't ! 'Twas quite a sudden fit ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Oh, no ! since you first came I've twinges had of it, 
 And longer. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 That is strange ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 No remedy I know. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Your head with warm cloths rub : 'twill put you in a 
 
 glow. 
 And p'raps you'll then be cured. 
 
 SOLLER {aside) 
 
 You're chaffing me, my friend ? 
 {Aloud) 'Tis not such easy work. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 'Twill answer in the end. 
 And yet you're rightly served. I'll one suggestion make : 
 You ne'er by any chance your poor wife with you take. 
 When to a ball you go. Small wisdom, sir, is shown, 
 In leaving a young wife in her cold bed alone.
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 425 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 She likes to stop at home, and let me masquerade : 
 Well knows she how to warm herself, without my aid. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 That's funny ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Yes ! When one is fond of dainty food, 
 One doesn't need a hint to scent out what is good. 
 
 AXCESTES {piqued). 
 Why all this hyperbole ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 My meaning's plain I think : 
 Exempli gratid, I vastly like to drink 
 Father's old wine : but he my taste for it deplores, — 
 He spares his own ; and so I drink it out of doors. 
 
 ALCESTES {with resentment). 
 You'd best be careful, sir ! — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Most noble squire of ladies, 
 She's now my wife : to that, by you no def'rence paid is. 
 Her husband maybe deems she's something in addition. 
 
 ALCESTES {with suppressed anger). 
 
 Fine husband ! I defy the shghtest admonition ; 
 And if you should presume a single word to say — 
 
 SOLLER {frightened. Aside). 
 
 How fine ! The end will be, that I must ask him, 
 Pray
 
 426 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 How virtuous is she ? 
 
 (Aloud.) My hearth is still my hearth, 
 Despite strange cooks ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Beside your wife, how small your worth ! 
 So virtuous and fair ! A soul of purity ! 
 What matchless dower she brought ! A very angel she ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Her blood, too, as I've found, has much expansive 
 
 power : 
 Head-ornaments for me were also iu her dower. 
 For such a wife was I predestinated found, 
 And e'en before my birth was as a cuckold crowned. 
 
 ALCESTES (breaking out). 
 Now, Soller ! 
 
 SOLLER (impertinently^. 
 
 Well, what now ? 
 
 ALCESTES (restraining himself). 
 
 I tell you, hold your peace ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I'd like to see the man who'd make my talking cease ! 
 
 ALCESTES, 
 
 If place allowed, you'd get a proper castigation ! 
 
 SOLLER (half aloud). 
 He'd fight a duel for my wife's good reputation ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Indeed !
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 427 
 
 SOLLEK (as lefore). 
 No mortal knows so well, how lies the land. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The deuce ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Alcestes, we perceive how matters stand. 
 Now wait ! just wait a bit ! The subject we'll pursue ; 
 And we shall understand how gentlemen like you 
 The corn-fields for themselves will reap, yes, ev'ry one, 
 And for the husbands leave the gleanings, when they've 
 done. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I wonder much that you should be so bold, sir, know- 
 ing— 
 
 ' SOLLER. 
 
 Full oftentimes my eyes with tears are overflowing : 
 Each day I feel as though I'm sniffing onions. 
 
 ALCESTES (angrily and resolutely). 
 
 How? 
 
 You go too far ! Speak out ! Explain your meaning 
 
 now! 
 Your tongue to loosen I shall be compelled, I ween. 
 
 SOLLER (boldly). 
 
 I have a right, methinks, to know what I have seen. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Seen ? What does seeing mean ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 It means, what we discover 
 When we both see and hear.
 
 428 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Ha! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Why with wrath hoil over ? 
 
 ALCESTES {with the most determined anger). 
 
 What have you heard ? What seen ? Reply without 
 delay ! 
 
 SOLLER (^frightened, trying to go away). 
 Allow me, my good sir ! 
 
 ALCESTES (holding him hack). 
 Where go you ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Right away ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You shall not leave this spot ! 
 
 SOLLER (aside). 
 
 I would the man were dead ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 What have you heard ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I ? Nought ! 'Twas only what they said ! 
 
 ALCESTES (with angry impetuosity'). 
 Who was the man ?
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 429 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 The man? A man — 
 
 ALCESTES {rmore violently and attaching him). 
 
 Be quick ! Begin ! 
 
 SOLLER (m anguish). 
 
 Who saw it with his eyes. 
 
 (More boldly.') I'll call the servants in. 
 
 ALCESTES [seizing him hy the neck). 
 Who was it ? 
 
 SOLLER (trying to tear himself loose). 
 What ? The deuce ! 
 
 ALCESTES {holding him more firmly). 
 
 No more my temper try ! 
 (Drawing his sword.) 
 Who is the wicked wretch ? the rogue ? the liar ? 
 
 SOLLER (falling on his knees in his terror). 
 
 I! 
 
 ALCESTES (threateningly). 
 
 What did you see ? 
 
 SOLLER (timidly). 
 
 I saw what proves that we're but human : 
 You, sir, are but a man ; Sophia is a woman. 
 
 ALCESTES {as obove). 
 And then ?
 
 43° THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 Precisely what we see in each direction, 
 When men and women have reciprocal affection. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 And that's ? — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I should have thought you'd know by intuition. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 WeU? 
 
 SOLLER, 
 
 Surely you'll not dare to scout the supposition. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Indeed I More plainly speak ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Eelease me ! Oh, pray do ! 
 
 ALCESTES {still as ahove). 
 It's called ? The Devil ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Well, it's called a rendezvous. 
 
 ALCESTES (startled). 
 You He ! 
 
 SOLLER (aside). 
 
 He's frightened now. 
 
 ALCESTES (aside). 
 
 How could he know it e'er ? 
 (He sheathes his sword.)
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 431 
 
 SOLLEK (aside). 
 Take courage ! 
 
 ALCESTES (aside). 
 
 Who betrayed that we together were ? 
 
 {Eecovering himself.) 
 What mean you by your words ? 
 
 SOLLER {insolently). 
 
 We'll now make all things pleasant. 
 The comedy last night ! I happened to be present. 
 
 ALCESTES {astonished). 
 Where ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 In the closet. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Oh ! you thus were at your ball ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 And you were at your feast ! Without one drop of gall, 
 Two words : though secret plans you gentry may pursue, 
 Be sure that by and by they'll be exposed to view. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 It's clear that you're the thief. I'd sooner have a raven 
 Or jackdaw in my house, than such a wicked craven 
 As you ! For shame, bad man ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I'm bad, I must confess ; 
 But then you gentlemen are always right, I guess ! 
 Our property you think to handle at your pleasure : 
 No laws you keep, but deal to us another measure. 
 The principle's the same : some woman love, some gold. 
 If you would hang us, let your passions be controlled !
 
 432 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 You're very impudent — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I'm impudent, no doubt : 
 In truth, it is no joke with horns to go about. 
 In short, we mustn't make the thing a cause of strife : 
 'Twas I who took your cash, and you who took my wife. 
 
 ALCESTES {threateningly). 
 What took I ? 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Nothing, sir ! It long had been your own. 
 Before 'twas mine. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 If — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I must leave the thing alone. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 The gallows for the thief ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Is it unknown to you 
 That stringent laws provide for other people too ? 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Soller ! 
 
 SOLLER (inakes a sign of beheading). 
 
 Yes : there's the axe, if you indulge your passions —
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 433 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Are you an expert, then, and understand the fashions ? 
 You'll certainly be hanged, or flogged in any case. 
 
 SOLLER (pointing to his forehead). 
 I'm branded as it is. 
 
 Scene X. — The Above. TJie Host, Sophia. 
 
 SOPHIA (at the bottom of the stage). 
 
 His accusations base 
 My father still maintains. 
 
 HOST (at the bottom of the stage). 
 
 My daughter stiU won't jdeld. 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 There is Alcestes ! 
 
 HOST (seeing alcestes). 
 Ha! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 The truth will be revealed. 
 
 HOST (to ALCESTES). 
 
 She is the thief, good sir ! 
 
 SOPHIA (on the other side). 
 
 The thief, sir, there you see !
 
 434 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES (looks at them both laughingly, and then says 
 in the same tone as they, ^pointing to sollek). 
 
 He is the thief ! 
 
 SOLLEK (aside). 
 
 Alas for my poor skin ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 
 
 He? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 
 
 He 2 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 
 You are both innocent : 'tis he ! 
 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I'd run a nail 
 With pleasure through his head ! 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 You? 
 
 SOLLER (aside). 
 
 Thunderbolts and hail ! 
 
 HOST. 
 
 I'd like — 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Be patient, sir : your wrath is ill-directed. 
 Although she guiltless was, Sophia was suspected. 
 She came to visit me. The step was bold, 'tis true ; 
 Yet for her virtue I — 
 (To SoLLER.) But you were present too! 
 
 (Sophia is astonished.) 
 To us was this unknown : propitious was the night, 
 Her virtue —
 
 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 435 
 
 SOLLER. 
 There it was I had a pretty fright. 
 
 ALCESTES {to the host). 
 But you ? 
 
 HOST. 
 
 Sir, I was there from curiosity ; 
 That cursdd letter I so anxious was to see. 
 I wonder, sir, that you such conduct manifested ! 
 That fine godfather's trick I have not yet digested. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Excuse the jest ! And you, Sophia, faithful wife — 
 Will surely pardon me ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Alcestes ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 Ne'er in life 
 Your virtue will I doubt. Forgive that rendezvous \ 
 As virtuous as good — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 I half believe it too ! 
 
 ALCESTES {to SOPHIA). 
 
 And also you'll forgive our Seller ? 
 
 SOPHIA. 
 
 Willingly ! 
 {She gives him her hand.) 
 There !
 
 436 THE FELLOW CULPRITS 
 
 ALCESTES {to the HOST). 
 
 I 
 
 Allons ! 
 
 HOST (gives soller his hand). 
 Steal no more ! 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 What's distant, time brings nigh ! 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 But Where's my money now ? 
 
 SOLLEK. 
 
 I took it in my trouble : 
 That gamester plagued me till he nearly bent me 
 
 double. 
 I knew not what to do ; I stole, and paid the debt : 
 And now I'll give you back the dollars left me yet. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I'll give you what is spent. 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 Now all has come out right. 
 
 ALCESTES. 
 
 I only hope you'll grow quite honest, staid, pohte ! 
 And if you ever dare again with me to palter ! — 
 
 SOLLER. 
 
 So be it ! — For this once, we've all escaped the halter. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 9^ 
 
 J
 
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