To nearer thoughts of self. The laws (if e'er
Laws reach'd this village) are all in abeyance
With the late general war of thirty years,
Or crush'd, or rising slowly from the dust,
To which the march of armies trampled them. ́
Stralenheim, although noble, is unheeded
Here, save as such-without lands, influence,
Save what hath perish'd with him; few prolong
A week beyond their funeral rites their sway
O'er men, unless by relatives, whose interest
Is roused such is not here the case; he died
Alone, unknown,-a solitary grave,
Obscure as his deserts, without a scutcheon,

Is all he'll have, or wants. If I discover

The assassin, 'twill be well-if not, believe me
None else; though all the full-fed train of menials
May howl above his ashes, as they did
Around him in his danger on the Oder,

Will no more stir a finger now than then.
Hence! hence! I must not hear your answer-look!
The stars are almost faded, and the gray
Begins to grizzle the black hair of night.
You shall not answer-Pardon me, that I
Am peremptory, 'tis your son that speaks,
Your long-lost, late found son-Let's call my mother!
Softly and swiftly step, and leave the rest
To me; I'll answer for the event as far
As regards you, and that is the chief point,
As my
first duty, which shall be observed.
We'll meet in Castle Siegendorf-once more
Our banners shall be glorious! Think of that
Alone, and leave all other thoughts to me,
Whose youth may better battle with them-Hence!

And may your age be happy?—I will kiss

My mother once more, then Heaven's speed be with

you!

WERNER.

This counsel's safe--but is it honourable?

ULRIC.

To save a father is a child's chief honour.

END OF ACT III.

(Exeunt.)

OR,

THE INHERITANCE.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, near Prague.

Enter ERIC and HENRICK, retainers of the Count.

ERIC.

So, better times are come at last; to these
Old walls new masters and high wassail, both
A long desideratum.

HENRICK.

Yes for masters,

It might be unto those who long for novelty, Though made by a new grave: but as for wassail, Methinks the old Count Siegendorf maintain'd His feudal hospitality as high

As e'er another prince of the empire.

ERIC.

Why,

For the mere cup and trencher, we no doubt
Fared passing well; but as for merriment
And sport, without which salt and sauces season
The cheer but scantily, our sizings were

Even of the narrowest.

HENRICK.

The old count loved not

The roar of revel; are you sure that this does?

As yet he hath been courteous as he's bounteous,

And we all love him.

HENRICK

His reign is as yet

Hardly a year o'erpast its honey-moon,
And the first year of sovereigns is bridal;
Anon, we shall perceive his real sway

And moods of mind.

ERIC.

Pray heaven he keep the present!

Then his brave son, Count Ulric-there's a knight!

The wars are over : in the hall, who like
Count Ulric for a well-supported pride, lo
Which awes but yet offends not? in the field,
Who like him with his spear in hand, when, gnashing
His tusks, and ripping up from right to left

The howling hounds, the boar makes for the thicket?
Who backs a horse, or bears a hawk, or wears
A sword like him? Whose plume nods knightlier ?

HENRICK.

No one's, I grant you: do not fear, if war
Be long in coming, he is of that kind
Will make it for himself, if he hath not
Already done as much.

ERIC.

What do you mean?

HENRICK.

You can't deny his train of followers
(But few our fellow native vassals born
On the domain) are such a sort of knaves

As

What?

ERIC.

(Pauses.)

HENRICK.

The war (you love so much) leaves living;

Like other Parents, She spoils her worst children.

ERIC.

Nonsense! they are all brave iron-visaged fellows, Such as old Tilly loved.

HENRICK.

And who loved Tilly?

Ask that at Magdeburgh—or for that matter
Wallenstein either-they are gone to-

ERIC.

Rest;

But what beyond, 'tis not ours to pronounce.

HENRICK.

I wish they had left us something of their rest
The country (nominally now at peace)