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• Götz Von Berlichingen With the Iron Hand. a Drama.
• Dramatis PersonÆ
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: An Inn At Schwarzenberg In Franconia.
• Scene II.—: A Cottage In a Thick Forest.
• Scene III.—: An Apartment In Jaxthausen, the Castle of Goetz Von Berlichingen.
• Scene IV.—: The Bishop of Bamberg’s Palace.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Bamberg. a Hall.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen. a Hall In Goetz’s Castle.
• Scene III.—: The Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene IV.—: The Spessart.
• Scene V.—: The Bishop’s Palace. His Cabinet.
• Scene VI.—: Adelaide’s Apartment.
• Scene VII.—: An Ante-room.
• Scene VIII.—: The Spessart.
• Scene IX.—: Hall In the Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene X—: an Inn.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: A Garden At Augsburg.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene III.—: The Camp of the Party Sent to Execute the Imperial Mandate.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: Bamberg. Adelaide’s Chamber.
• Scene VI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene VII.—: A Wood On the Borders of a Morass.
• Scene VIII.—: Camp of the Imperialists.
• Scene IX.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene X.—: The Imperial Camp.
• Scene XI.—: Mountains and a Wood.
• Scene XII.—: A Heath—on One Side an Eminence, With a Ruined Tower, On the Other the Forest.
• Scene XIII.—: The Camp.
• Scene XIV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XV.—: Camp.
• Scene XVI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XVII.—: The Kitchen.
• Scene XVIII.—: A Hall.
• Scene XIX.—: The Court of the Castle.
• Scene XX.: The Armory.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: An Inn In the City of Heilbronn
• Scene II.—: The Council-house At Heilbronn.
• Scene III.—: A Large Hall In the Council-house, Beset By Sickingen’s Troops.
• Scene IV.—: The Castle of Adelaide. Augsburg.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Village Plundered By the Insurgent Peasantry. Shrieks and Tumult.
• Scene II.—: Open Country. In the Distance Two Villages and an Abbey Are Burning.
• Scene III.—: A Hill and Prospect of the Country. In the Flat Scene a Mill. a Body of Horsemen.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: A Village.
• Scene VI.—: The Front of a Gypsy-hut In a Wild Forest.—night.—a Fire Before the Hut, At Which Are Seated the Mother of the Gypsies and a Girl.
• Scene VII.—: Inside the Hut.
• Scene VIII.—: Adelaide’s Bedchamber.
• Scene IX.—: Street Before the Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene X.—: An Apartment In Weislingen’s Castle.
• Scene XI.—: A Narrow Vault Dimly Illuminated. the Judges of the Secret Tribunal Discovered Seated, All Muffled In Black Cloaks.
• Scene XII.—: The Court of an Inn.
• Scene XIII.—: The Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene the Last. —: the Prison Garden.
• Iphigenia In Tauris a Drama
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: A Grove Before the Temple of Diana.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Torquato Tasso
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.: A Garden Adorned With Busts of the Epic Poets. to the Right a Bust of Virgil: to the Left, One of Ariosto.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: A Room.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Chamber.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Garden.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Clavigo
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Dwelling.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Dwelling.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s House.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Abode. Carlos, Alone.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Street Before the House of Guilbert. Night.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Stella. a Tragedy.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Brother and Sister
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• A Tale.
• The Good Women.
• Reynard the Fox.
• Chapter I.: The Accusation.
• Chapter II.: The First Summons.
• Chapter III.: The Second Summons.
• Chapter IV.: The Trial.
• Chapter V.: The Pardon.
• Chapter VI.: The Relapse.
• Chapter VII.: The Outlawry.
• Chapter VIII.: The Journey.
• Chapter IX.: The Advocacy.
• Chapter X.: The Second Pardon.
• Chapter XI.: The Defiance.
• Chapter XII.: The Battle.

ACT II.

SCENE I.—

Bamberg. A Hall.

[TheBishopandAdelaide(playing at chess),Liebtraut(with a guitar),LadiesandCourtiers(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.

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 would 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 Delphini, that was so homogeneous with his majesty—and so on.

Adelaide.

Checkmate! You should fill up the chasms in our histories, Liebtraut.

[They rise.

Liebtraut.

To supply those in our family registers would be more profitable. The merits of our ancestors being available for a common object with their portraits, namely, to cover the naked sides of our chambers 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 be reasonable.

Liebtraut.

Does one ever become so, 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.

He will wish it, doubtless; but can he go? A prince’s squeeze of the hand and the smiles of a beauty, from these no Weislingen can tear himself away. I have the honor to take my leave.

Bishop.

A prosperous journey!

Adelaide.

Adieu!

[ExitLiebtraut.

Bishop.

When he is once 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—

Jaxthausen. A Hall inGoetz’sCastle.

EnterGoetzandHans 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 Burgomaster 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. 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 merchants of Bamberg and Nuremberg returning from the fair of Frankfort—we may strike a good blow.

Selbitz.

Let us hope so!

SCENE III.—

TheBishop’sPalace at Bamberg.

Adelaideand herWaiting-Maid.

Adelaide.

He is here, sayest thou? I can scarcely believe 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 curvetting 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.

Adelaide.

I am curious to see him.

Maid.

He would be the husband for you!

Adelaide.

Foolish girl!

Maid.

Children and fools—

EnterLiebtraut.

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 honor 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 little stratagems to you?—First, I pretended to have heard nothing, did not understand the reason of his behavior, and put him upon the disadvantage of telling me the whole story at length—then I saw the matter in quite a different light to what he did—could not find—could not see, and so forth—then I gossipped 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 a new attraction towards 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-favor and flattery, and dragged him hither in triumph.

Adelaide.

What said you of me?

Liebtraut.

The simple truth—that 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.

Liebtraut.

The bishop will introduce him to you.

Adelaide.

I expect them. (ExitLiebtraut.) And with such feelings have I seldom expected a visitor.

SCENE IV.—

The Spessart.

EnterSelbitz, GoetzandGeorgein the armor 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.

I see it well—your reconciliation was almost too speedy to be lasting—Liebtraut is a cunning fellow, and has no doubt inveigled him over.

Goetz.

Think’st thou he will become a traitor?

Selbitz.

The first step is taken.

Goetz.

I will never believe it. Who knows what he may have to do at court—his affairs are still unarranged. 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 furnish 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.

SCENE V.—

TheBishop’sPalace. His Cabinet.

TheBishopandWeislingen.

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 influence 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 I not have given gold enough to boot, and thus satisfied Berlichingen? Our operations against him and his confederates could have gone on— But, alas! I do not reflect that I am talking to his friend, who has joined him against me, and can easily counterwork 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—impossible!

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.

Weislingen.

Never, my gracious lord!

Bishop.

You cannot say so. My temporal neighbors 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.

[ExitBishop.

EnterFrancis.

Francis.

The Lady Adelaide expects you. She is not well, but she will not let you depart without bidding her adieu.

Weislingen.

Come.

Francis.

Do we go then 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’sApartment.

AdelaideandWaiting-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 dislike him for my husband.

Maid.

Does your ladyship think he will go?

Adelaide.

He is even now bidding the bishop farewell.

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.

EnterWeislingen.

Weislingen.

You are not well, gracious lady?

Adelaide.

That must be indifferent to you—you leave us, leave us forever: what matters it to you whether we live 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 your own image—

Adelaide.

Thrust into some dark corner with the pictures of defunct ancestors! I beseech you, Weislingen, 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 agonized at reflecting on what I am, that I little 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 the tale of Theuerdanck, and wish that they had such a husband.—Knightly word!—Nonsense!

Weislingen.

You do not think so?

Adelaide.

On my honor, you are dissembling. What have you promised? and to whom? You have pledged your alliance to 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 Rübezahl. There is something behind all this.—To become an enemy of the empire—a disturber of public happiness and tranquillity, an enemy of the emperor, the associate of a robber!—Thou, Weislingen, with thy gentle soul!

Weislingen.

Did you but know him!

Adelaide.

I would deal justly with Goetz. He has a lofty indomitable spirit, and woe to thee, therefore, 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 stubborn. 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 discontented 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 speak of your enemy.

Adelaide.

I speak 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.

Adelaide.

Then go.

Weislingen.

Gracious lady, I cannot.

Adelaide.

You must.

Weislingen.

And is this your parting look?

Adelaide.

Go, I am 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!

EnterFrancis.

Francis.

Noble sir, the bishop inquires for you.

Adelaide.

Go! go!

Francis.

He begs you to come instantly.

Adelaide.

Go! go!

Weislingen.

I do not say adieu: I shall see you again.

[ExeuntWeislingenandFrancis.

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 Ante-room.

WeislingenandFrancis.

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 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. That I can do without breach of faith to Berlichingen, 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:—’tis decided!

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.—

The Spessart.

EnterGoetz, SelbitzandGeorge.

Selbitz.

You see it has turned out as I prophesied.

Goetz.

No, no, no.

George.

I tell you the truth, believe me. I did as you commanded, took the dress and password of the Bamberg trooper, and escorted some peasants of the Lower Rhine, 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 all. 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 only by his squire; I stood at the steps, and whispered to him as he passed, “A few words from your friend Berlichingen.” 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.

George.

“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 ante-chamber 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 Berlichingen.” 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?

George.

That, and yet more. He threatened me—

Goetz.

It is enough. He is lost forever. 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.

SCENE IX.—

Hall in theBishop’sPalace at Bamberg.

AdelaideandWeislingendiscovered.

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 favor! At first she fosters with maternal warmth our dearest hopes; and then, like an inconstant hen, she forsakes the nest, and abandons the infant brood to death and decay.

Adelaide.

Yes, you may rail at women. The reckless 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 holiday garb! the envy of the vulgar. Oh, what would a tailor’s wife not 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, Weislingen, I felt like the tailor’s wife. Hundred-tongued rumor, 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 quintessence of manhood, this phœnix, Weislingen! My wish was granted.

Weislingen.

And the phœnix turned out a dunghill cock.

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 reflection of worth. For my part, I do not care to scrutinize the character of those whom I esteem; so we lived 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 bachelor. 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 favor 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. Solitude 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.

Could’st thou but love me, could’st thou but return the fervor of my passion with the least glow of sympathy.—Adelaide, thy reproaches are most unjust. Could’st thou but guess the hundredth part of my sufferings, thou would’st not have tortured me so unmercifully with encouragement, indifference and contempt. You smile. To be reconciled to myself after the step I have taken must be the work of more than one day. How can I plot against the man who has been so recently and so vividly 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 Weislingen; and he will watch his advantage over us. Besides, Adelaide, we are not so sluggish as you think. Our troopers are reinforced and watchful, our schemes are proceeding, and the Diet of Augsburg will, I hope, soon bring them to a favorable issue.

Adelaide.

You go there?

Weislingen.

If I could carry a glimpse of hope with me.

[Kisses her hand.

Adelaide.

O 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 endeavors.

Adelaide.

We do so.

Weislingen.

But seriously.

Adelaide.

Well, then, seriously. Do but go—

Weislingen.

Enchantress!

[Exeunt.

SCENE X—

An Inn.

The Bridal of aPeasant.

[TheBride’s Father, Bride, Bridegroomand other Country-folks,Goetz of BerlichingenandHans of Selbitzall discovered at table.TroopersandPeasantsattend.

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 neighbor, 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 consented 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, gentlemen, 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; so there we stood like a couple of fools, till a good Providence put it into my head to give him my daughter, and the ground besides.

Goetz.

(Drinks.) To your better understanding for the 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?

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!

Goetz.

You must not let this pass unnoticed.

Bride’s Father.

What can we do?

Goetz.

Why—go to Spire where there is an imperial visitation: make your complaint; they must inquire into it, and help you to your own again.

Bridegroom.

Does your honor think we shall succeed?

Goetz.

If I might take him 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.

(ToBridegroom.) What think’st thou?

Bridegroom.

We’ll try, come what may.

EnterGeorge.

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 Mühlbach.

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.

I cannot. Adieu!

[ExeuntGoetz, SelbitzandTroopers