He must unsheath it in your father's cause. Thek. He'll spend with gladness and alacrity His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause, If shame or injury be intended him. Coun. You will not understand me. Well, hear then! Your father has fallen off from the Emperor, With the whole soldiery Thek. Alas, my mother? Coun. There needs a great example to draw on They govern all opinions, and wherever Ah, My miserable mother! what a death-stroke She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly. Even now, Thek. O my fore-boding bosom ! And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp; knew it well---no sooner had I entered, A heavy ominous presentiment Revealed to me, that spirits of death were hovering Coun. Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting! Preserve for you your father the firm friend, And for yourself the lover, all will yet Prove good and fortunate. Thek. Prove good? What good? Must we not part? Part ne'er to meet again? Coun. He parts not from you. He can not part from you. Thek. Alas for his sore anguish! It will rend His heart asunder. Coun. If indeed he loves you, His resolution will be speedily taken. Thek. His resolution will be speedily taken--O do not doubt of that! A resolution! Does there remain one to be taken? Coun. Hush! Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming. Thek. How shall I bear to see her? Coun. Collect yourself SCENE III. To them enter the Duchess. Duch. (to the Countess.) Who was here, sister? I heard some one talking, And passionately too. Coun. Nay! There was no one. Duch. I am grown so timorous, every trifling noise Scatters my spirits, and announces to me The accursed business of the Regenspurg diet Coun. No! never! Make your heart easy, sister, as to that. [Thekla throws herself upon her mother, and enfolds her in her arms, weeping. Duch. Yes, my poor child! Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother In the Empress. O that stern unbending man! In this unhappy marriage what have I Not suffered, not endured. For ev'n as if I had been linked on to some wheel of fire That restless, ceaseless, whirls impetuous onward, With dizzy headlong violence he whirls me. Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits thee. There lives no second Friedland; thou, my child, Hast not to fear thy mother's destiny. Thek. O let us supplicate him, dearest mother! Quick! quick! here's no abiding-place for us. Here every coming hour broods into life Some new affrightful monster. Duch. Thou wilt share An easier, calmer lot, my child! We too, Not that consuming flame which now it is. Unsteady and suspicious, has possessed him. But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections you. But surely this is not the conversation To pass the time in which we are waiting for him. You know he will be soon here. Would you have him Find her in this condition? Duch. Come, my child! Come, wipe away thy tears, and show thy father A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here Is off---this hair must not hang so dishevelled. Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform Thy gentle eye---well now---what was I saying? Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini Is a most noble and deserving gentleman. Coun. That is he, sister! Thek. (to the Countess.) Aunt, you will ex cuse me? (is going.) Coun. But whither? See, your father comes. Thek. I cannot see him now. Coun. Nay, but bethink you. Thek. Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence. Coun. But he will miss you, will ask after you. |