The Online Library of Liberty

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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.

SCENE III.

Tasso, Antonio.

Tasso.

Gladly I welcome thee, it seems indeed

As though I saw thee for the first time now!

Ne’er was arrival more auspicious. Welcome!

I know thee now, and all thy varied worth.

Promptly I offer thee my heart and hand.

And trust that thou wilt not despise my love.

Antonio.

Freely thou offerest a precious gift;

Its worth I duly estimate, and hence

Would pause awhile before accepting it.

I know not yet if I can render thee

A full equivalent. Not willingly

Would I o’erhasty or unthankful seem;

Let then my sober caution serve for both.

Tasso.

What man would censure caution? Every step

Of life doth prove that ’tis most requisite;

Yet nobler is it, when the soul reveals,

Where we, with prudent foresight, may dispense.

Antonio.

The heart of each be here his oracle,

Since each his error must himself atone.

Tasso.

So let it be! My duty I’ve perform’d.

It is the princess’ wish we should be friends,

Her words I honor’d and thy friendship sought.

I wish’d not to hold back, Antonio,

But I will never be importunate.

Time and more near acquaintance may induce thee

To give a warmer welcome to the gift,

Which now thou dost reject, almost with scorn.

Antonio.

Oft is the moderate man nam’d cold by those

Who think themselves more warm than other men,

Because a transient glow comes over them.

Tasso.

Thou blamest what I blame,—what I avoid.

Young as I am I ever must prefer

Unshaken constancy to vehemence.

Antonio.

Most wisely said! Keep ever in this mind.

Tasso.

Thou’rt authoriz’d to counsel and to warn,

For, like a faithful, time-approved friend,

Experience holds her station at thy side.

But trust me, sir, the meditative heart

Attends the warning of each day and hour,

And practises in secret every virtue,

Which in thy rigor thou would’st teach anew.

Antonio.

’Twere well to be thus occupied with self,

If it were only profitable too.

His inmost nature no man learns to know

By introspection; still he rates himself,

Sometimes too low, but oft, alas! too high.

Self-knowledge comes from knowing other men;

’Tis life reveals to each his genuine worth.

Tasso.

I listen with applause and reverence.

Antonio.

Yet to my words I know thou dost attach

A meaning wholly foreign to my thought.

Tasso.

Proceeding thus, we ne’er shall draw more near.

It is not prudent, ’tis not well, to meet

With purpos’d misconception any man,

Let him be who he may! The princess’ word

I scarcely needed;—I have read thy soul:

Good thou dost purpose and accomplish too.

Thine own immediate fate concerns thee not;

Thou think’st of others, others thou dost aid,

And on life’s sea, vex’d by each passing gale,

Thou hold’st a heart unmov’d. I view thee thus;

What then were I, did I not draw tow’rds thee?

Did I not even keenly seek a share

Of the lock’d treasure which thy bosom guards?

Open thine heart to me, thou’lt not repent;

Know me, and I sure am thou’lt be my friend:

Of such a friend I long have felt the need.

My inexperience, my ungovern’d youth

Cause me no shame; for still around my brow

The future’s golden clouds in brightness rest.

Oh! to thy bosom take me, noble man;

Into the wise, the temperate use of life

Initiate my rash, my unfledg’d youth.

Antonio.

Thou in a single moment would’st demand

What time and circumspection only yield.

Tasso.

In one brief moment love has power to give

What anxious toil wins not in lengthen’d years.

I do not ask it from thee, I demand.

I summon thee in Virtue’s sacred name,

For she is zealous to unite the good;

And shall I name to thee another name?

The princess, she doth wish it.—Leonora.

Me she would lead to thee, and thee to me.

Oh, let us meet her wish with kindred hearts!

United let us to the goddess haste,

To offer her our service, our whole souls,

Leagu’d to achieve for her the noblest aims.

Yet once again!—Here is my hand! Give thine!

I do entreat, hold thyself back no longer,

O noble man, and grudge me not the joy.

The good man’s fairest joy, without reserve,

Freely to yield himself to nobler men!

Antonio.

Thou goest with full sail! It would appear

Thou’rt wont to conquer, everywhere to find

The pathways spacious and the portals wide.

I grudge thee not or merit or success,—

Only I see indeed, too plainly see,

We from each other stand too far apart.

Tasso.

It may be so in years and timetried worth;—

In courage and good-will I yield to none.

Antonio.

Good-will doth oft prove deedless; courage still

Pictures the goal less distant than it is.

His brow alone is crown’d who reaches it,

And oft a worthier must forego the crown.

Yet wreaths there are of very different fashion:

Light, worthless wreaths, which, idly strolling on,

The loiterer oft without the toil obtains.

Tasso.

What a divinity to one accords,

And from another sternly doth withhold,

Is not obtain’d by each man as he lists.

Antonio.

To Fortune before other gods ascribe it;

I’ll hear thee gladly, for her choice is blind.

Tasso.

Impartial Justice also wears a band,

And to each bright illusion shuts her eyes.

Antonio.

Fortune ’tis for the fortunate to praise!

Let him ascribe to her a hundred eyes

To scan desert,—stern judgment, and wise choice.

Call her Minerva, call her what he will,

He holds as just reward her golden gifts,

Chance ornament as symbol of desert.

Tasso.

Thou need’st not speak more plainly. ’Tis enough!

Deeply I see into thine inmost heart,

And know thee now for life. Oh, would that so

My princess knew thee also! Lavish not

The arrows of thine eyes and of thy tongue!

In vain thou aimest at the fadeless wreath

Entwin’d around my brow. First be so great

As not to envy me the laurel wreath!

And then perchance thou may’st dispute the prize.

I deem it sacred, yea, the highest good;

Yet only show me him, who hath attain’d

That after which I strive; show me the nero,

Of whom on history’s ample page I read;

The poet place before me, who himself

With Homer or with Virgil may compare;

Ay, what is more, let me behold the man

Who hath deserv’d threefold this recompense,

And yet can wear the laurel round his brow

With modesty thrice greater than my own.—

Then at the feet of the divinity

Who thus endow’d me, thou should’st see me kneel,

Nor would I stand erect, till from my brow,

She had to his the ornament transferi’d.

Antonio.

Till then thou’rt doubtless worthy of the crown.

Tasso.

Let me be justly weigh’d: I shun it not:

But your contempt I never have deserv’d.

The wreath consider’d by my prince my due.

Which for my brow my princess’ hand entwin’d,

None shall dispute with me, and none asperse!

Antonio.

This haughty tone, methinks, becomes thee not,

Nor this rash glow, unseemly in this place.

Tasso.

The tone thou takest here becomes me too.

Say, from these precincts is the truth exil’d?

Within the palace is free thought imprison’d?

Here must the noble spirit be oppress’d?

This is nobility’s appropriate seat,

The soul’s nobility! and may she not

In presence of earth’s mighty ones rejoice?

She may and shall. Nobles draw near the prince

In virtue of the rank their sires bequeath’d;

Why should not genius then, which partial Nature

Grants, like a glorious ancestry, to few?

Here littleness alone should feel confus’d,

And envy shun to manifest its shame:

As no insidious spider should attach

Its noisome fabric to these marble walls.

Antonio.

Thyself dost show that my contempt is just!

The impetuous youth, forsooth, would seize by force

The confidence and friendship of the man!

Rude as thou art, dost think thyself of worth?

Tasso.

I’d rather be what thou esteemest rude,

Than what I must myself esteem ignoble.

Antonio.

Thou’rt still so young that wholesome chastisement

May tutor thee to hold a better course.

Tasso.

Not young enough to bow to idols down,

Yet old enough to conquer scorn with scorn.

Antonio.

From contests of the lip and of the lyre,

A conquering hero, thou may’st issue forth.

Tasso.

It were presumptuous to extol my arm;

As yet ’tis deedless; still I’ll trust to it.

Antonio.

Thou trustest to forbearance, which too long

Hath spoil’d thee in thine insolent career.

Tasso.

That I am grown to manhood, now I feel:

It would have been the farthest from my wish

To try with thee the doubtful game of arms:

But thou dost stir the inward fire; my blood,

My inmost marrow boils; the fierce desire

Of vengeance seethes and foams within my breast.

Art thou the man thou boast’st thyself,—then stand.

Antonio.

Thou know’st as little who, as where thou art,

Tasso.

No fane so sacred as to shield contempt.

Thou dost blaspheme, thou dost profane this spot,

Not I, who fairest offerings,—confidence,

Respect and love, for thine acceptance brought.

Thy spirit desecrates this paradise;

And thy injurious words this sacred hall;

Not the indignant heaving of my breast,

Which boils to wipe away the slightest stain.

Antonio.

What a high spirit in a narrow breast!

Tasso.

Here there is space to vent the bosom’s rage.

Antonio.

The rabble also vent their rage in words.

Tasso.

Art thou of noble blood as I am, draw!

Antonio.

I am, but I remember where I stand.

Tasso.

Come then below, where weapons may avail.

Antonio.

Thou should’st not challenge, therefore I’ll not follow.

Tasso.

To cowards welcome such impediments.

Antonio.

The coward only threats where he’s secure.

Tasso.

With joy would I relinquish this defence.

Antonio.

Degrade thyself: degrade the place thou canst not.

Tasso.

The place forgive me that I suffer’d it!

[He draws his sword.

Or draw or follow, if, as now I hate,

I’m not to scorn thee to eternity!