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There ! yonder underneath the boughs I see
Our horses!

Conrad. Ay, and the man.

Yes, he is there! Go, go,—no blood ! no blood !-go, gentle Conrad !

Conrad. Farewell !

Farewell! For this Heaven pardon you !

[Exit AURANTHE. Conrad. If he survive one hour, then may I die In unimagined tortures, or breathe through A long life in the foulest sink o' the world! He dies ! 'Tis well she do not advertise The caitiff of the cold steel at his back.


Enter LUDOLPH and Page. Ludolph. Miss'd the way, boy? Say not that on

your peril! Page. Indeed, indeed I cannot trace them further.

Ludolph. Must I stop here? Here solitary die? Stifled beneath the thick oppressive shade Of these dull boughs,—this oven of dark thickets,Silent,--without revenge ?-pshaw !—bitter end, A bitter death,-a suffocating death, A gnawing-silent-deadly, quiet death! Escaped ?-fled ?-vanish'd ? melted into air?

She's gone! I cannot clutch her! no revenge !
A muffled death, ensnared in horrid silence !
Suck'd to my grave amid a dreamy calm !
0, where is that illustrious noise of war,
To smother up this sound of labouring breath,
This rustle of the trees!

[AURANTHE shrieks at a distance. Page.

My lord, a noise !
This way–hark !

Yes, yes! A hope! A music! A glorious clamour! How I live again!


SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest.

Enter ALBERT (wounded).
Albert. Oh! for enough life to support me on
To Otho's feet!


Ludolph. Thrice villanous, stay there !
Tell me where that detested woman is,
Or this is through thee!

My good Prince, with me The sword has done its worst; not without worst

Done to another,—Conrad has it home!
I see you know it all!

Where is his sister ?


Auranthe. Albert !
Ludolph. Ha! There! there !—He is the para-

mour !-
There—hug him—dying! O, thou innocence,
Shrine him and comfort him at his last gasp,
Kiss down his eyelids! Was he not thy love?
Wilt thou forsake him at his latest hour ?
Keep fearful and aloof from his last gaze,
His most uneasy moments, when cold death
Stands with the door ajar to let him in ?
Albert. O that that door with hollow slam would

Upon me sudden! for I cannot meet,
In all the unknown chambers of the dead,
Such horrors !

Ludolph. Auranthe! what can he mean?
What horrors? Is it not a joyous time ?
Am I not married to a paragon
“Of personal beauty and untainted soul ?”
A blushing fair-eyed purity? A sylph,

timid hand has never sinn'd Beyond a flower pluck’d, white as itself?

Albert, you do insult my bride--your mistress-
To talk of horrors on our wedding-night!
Albert. Alas! poor Prince, I would you knew my

'Tis not so guilty-

Ludolph. Hear, he pleads not guilty !
You are not ? or, if so, what matters it?
You have escaped me, free as the dusk air,
Hid in the forest, safe from my revenge ;
I cannot catch you! You should laugh at me,
Poor cheated Ludolph! Make the forest hiss
With jeers at me! You tremble—faint at once,
You will come to again. O cockatrice,
I have you! Whither wander those fair eyes
To entice the devil to your help, that he
May change you to a spider, so to crawl
Into some cranny to escape my wrath ?

Albert. Sometimes the counsel of a dying man
Doth operate quietly when his breath is gone :
Disjoin those hands-part-part-do not destroy
Each other—forget her !-Our miseries
Are equal shared, and mercy is—

A boon
When one can compass it. Auranthe, try
Your oratory; your breath is not so hitch'd.
Ay, stare for help!

[ALBERT dies.

There goes a spotted soul
Howling in vain along the hollow night!
Hear him! He calls you—sweet Auranthe, come !

Auranthe. Kill me !

No! What ? Upon our
The earth would shudder at so foul a deed !
A fair bride! A sweet bride! An innocent bride!
No! we must revel it, as 'tis in use
In times of delicate brilliant ceremony :
Come, let me lead you to our halls again!
Nay, linger not; make no resistance, sweet ;-
Will you ? Ah, wretch, thou canst not, for I have
The strength of twenty lions 'gainst a lamb!
Now-one adieu for Albert !-Come away!


SCENE III.-An inner Court of the Castle.


1st Knight. Was ever such a night?

What horrors more?
Things unbelieved one hour, so strange they are,
The next hour stamps with credit.
1st Knight.

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