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SCENE II.- The entrance of GERSA's Tent in the Hungarian Camp.
Erminia. Where! where! where shall I find a messen.
A trusty soul? A good man in the camp ?
[Shouts in the camp.
Enter an HUNGARIAN CAPTAIN.
Captain. Fair prisoner, you hear those joyous shouts ?
Erminia. Say, is not that a German, yonder ? There !
Captain. Methinks by his stout bearing he should be-
I would fain
Good Gods !
Albert, will you swear ?
Albert, you have fame to lose.
Albert. Aye, any thing to me, fair creature. Do,
Truce with that.
Albert. Lady, I should rejoice to know you so.
Erminia. If you have any pity for a maid,
Albert. How ? Make it clear; if it be possible,
Erminia. Possible !-Easy. O my heart !
[Gives him a leller.
ALBERT (reading). “ To the Duke Conrad.-Forget the threat you made at parting, and I will forget to send the Emperor letters and papers of yours I have become possessed of. His life is no trifle to me; his death you shall find none to yourself.” (Speaks to himself.) 'Tis me-my life that's plead for! (Reads.) “ He, for his own sake, will be dumb as the grave. Erminia has my shame fix'd upon her, sure as a wen. We are safe.
Erminia. I found it in the tent, among some spoils
[They go in and return. Albert.
Erminia. I see you are thunderstruck. Haste, haste away !
Erminia. You needs must be. Carry it swift to Otho;
Albert. I am gone.
Erminia. Swift be your steed! Within this hour
Ere I sleep :
Hail, royal Hun!
Who was it hurried by me so distract ?
I grieve, my Lord,
Gersa. This is too much! Hearken, my lady pure !
Erminia. Silence ! and hear the magic of a nameErminia ! I am she,-the Emperor's niece ! Praised be the Heavens, I now dare own myself!
Gersa. Erminia! Indeed! I've heard of her. Pr’ythee, fair lady, what chance brought you here ?
Erminia. Ask your own soldiers.
dare own your name.
Alas! poor me!
Indeed you are too fair :
Trust me one day more,
For I am sick and faint with many wrongs,
Gersa. Poor lady!
Gentle Prince, 'tis false indeed.
Ethelbert. Blessings upon you, daughter! Sure you look
What! can you not employ
Gersa. Peace! peace, old man! I cannot think she is.
Ethelbert. Whom I have known from her first infancy, Baptized her in the bosom of the Church, Watch'd her, as anxious husbandmen the grain, From the first shoot till the unripe mid-May, Then to the tender ear of her June days, Which, lifting sweet abroad its timid green, Is blighted by the touch of calumny; You cannot credit such a monstrous tale.
Gersa. I cannot. Take her. Fair Erminia,
Erminia. Ay, so we purpose.
Daughter, do you so ?
Erminia. I have good news to tell you, Ethelbert.
Gersa. Ho! ho, there! Guards! Your blessing, father! Sweet Erminia, Believe me, I am well nigh sureErminia.
Farewell! Short time will show.