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 IV.

Leonora, Antonio.

Leonora.

War and not peace thou bringest: it would seem

As cam’st thou from a battle, from a camp,

Where violence bears sway, and force decides,

And not from Rome, where solemn policy

Uplifts the hand to bless a prostrate world,

Which she beholds obedient at her feet.

Antonio.

I must admit the censure, my fair friend,

But my apology lies close at hand;

’Tis dangerous to be compell’d so long

To wear the show of prudence and restraint.

Still at our side an evil genius lurks,

And with stern voice demands from time to time

A sacrifice, which I, alas, to-day

Have offer’d, to the peril of my friends.

Leonora.

Thou hast so long with strangers been concern’d,

And to their humors hast conform’d thine own,

That once more with thy friends thou dost their aims

Mistake, and as with strangers dost contend.

Antonio.

Herein, beloved friend, the danger lies!

With strangers we are ever on our guard,

Still are we aiming with observance due

To win their favor, which may profit us;

But with our friends we throw off all restraint;

Reposing in their love, we give the rein

To peevish humor; passion uncontroll’d

Doth break its bounds; and those we hold most dear

Are thus amongst the first whom we offend.

Leonora.

In this calm utterance of a thoughtful mind

I gladly recognize my friend again.

Antonio.

Yes, it has much annoy’d me, I confess—

That I to-day so far forgot myself.

But yet admit, that when a valiant man

From irksome labor comes with heated brow,

Thinking to rest himself for further toil

In the cool eve beneath the long’d-for shade,

And finds it, in its length and breadth, possess’d

Already, by some idler, he may well

Feel something human stirring in his breast.

Leonora.

If he is truly human, then, methinks,

He gladly will partake the shade with one

Who lightens toil, and cheers the hour of rest,

With sweet discourse and soothing melodies.

Ample, my friend, the tree that casts the shade,

Nor either needs the other dispossess.

Antonio.

We will not bandy similes, fair friend.

Full many a treasure doth the world contain,

Which we to others yield and with them share;

But there exists one prize, which we resign

With willing hearts to high desert alone;

Another, that without a secret grudge,

We share not even with the highest worth—

And would’st thou touching these two treasures ask—

They are the laurel and fair woman’s smile.

Leonora.

How! Hath yon chaplet round our stripling’s brow

Given umbrage to the grave, experienc’d man?

Say, for his toil divine, his lofty verse,

Could’st thou thyself a juster meed select?

A ministration in itself divine,

That floateth in the air in tuneful tones,

Evoking airy forms to charm our soul—

Such ministration, in expressive form,

Or graceful symbol, finds its fit reward.

As doth the bard scarce deign to touch the earth,

So doth the laurel lightly touch his brow.

His worshippers, with barren homage, bring

As tribute meet a fruitless branch, that thus

They may with ease acquit them of their debt.

Thou dost not grudge the martyr’s effigy,

The golden radiance round the naked head;

And, certes, where it rests, the laurel crown

Is more a sign of sorrow than of joy.

Antonio.

How, Leonora! Would thy lovely lips

Teach me to scorn the world’s poor vanities?

Leonora.

There is no need, my friend, to tutor thee

To prize each good according to its worth.

Yet it would seem that, e’en like common men,

The sage philosopher, from time to time,

Needs that the treasures he is bless’d withal,

In their true light before him be display’d.

Thou, noble man, wilt not assert thy claim

To a mere empty phantom of renown.

The service that doth bind thy prince to thee,

By means of which thou dost attach thy friends,

Is true, is living service, hence the meed

Which doth reward it must be living too.

Thy laurel is thy sovereign’s confidence,

Which, like a cherish’d burden, gracefully

Reposes on thy shoulders,—thy renown,

Thy crown of glory, is the general trust.

Antonio.

Thou speakest not of woman’s smile, that, surely,

Thou wilt not tell me is superfluous.

Leonora.

As people take it. Thou dost lack it not:

And lighter far, were ye depriv’d of it,

To thee would be the loss than to our friend.

For say, a woman were in thy behalf

To task her skill, and in her fashion strive

To care for thee, dost think she would succeed?

With thee security and order dwell;

And as for others, for thyself thou carest;

Thou dost possess what friendship fain would give;

Whilst in our province he requires our aid.

A thousand things he needs, which to supply

Is to a woman no unwelcome task.

The fine-spun linen, the embroider’d vest,

He weareth gladly, and endureth not,

Upon his person, aught of texture rude,

Such as befits the menial. For with him

All must be rich and noble, fair and good;

And yet all this to win he lacks the skill;

Nor even when possess’d, can he retain;

Improvident, he’s still in want of gold;

Nor from a journey e’er returneth home,

But a third portion of his goods is lost.

His valet plunders him, and thus, Antonio,

The whole year round one has to care for him.

Antonio.

And these same cares endear him more and more.

Much-favor’d youth, to whom his very faults

As virtues count, to whom it is allow’d

As man to play the boy, and who forsooth

May proudly boast his charming weaknesses!

Thou must forgive me, my fair friend, if here

Some little touch of bitterness I feel.

Thou say’st not all, say’st not how he presumes,

And proves himself far shrewder than he seems.

He boasts two tender flames! The knots of love,

As fancy prompts him, he doth bind and loose.

And wins with such devices two such hearts!

Is’t credible?

Leonora.

Well! Well! This only proves

That ’tis but friendship that inspires our hearts.

And e’en if we return’d him love for love,

Should we not well reward his noble heart,

Who, self-oblivious, dreams his life away

In lovely visions to enchant his friends?

Antonio.

Go on! Go on! Spoil him yet more and more,

Account his selfish vanity for love;

Offend all other friends with honest zeal

Devoted to your service; to his pride

Pay voluntary tribute; quite destroy

The beauteous sphere of social confidence!

Leonora.

We are not quite so partial as thou think’st;

In many cases we exhort our friend.

We wish to mould his mind, that he may know

More happiness himself, and be a source

Of purer joy to others. What in him

Doth merit blame is not conceal’d from us.

Antonio.

Yet much that’s blamable in him ye praise.

I’ve known him long, so easy ’tis to know him,

Too proud he is to wear the least disguise.

We see him now retire into himself.

As if the world were rounded in his breast;

Lost in the working of that inner world,

The outward universe he casts aside,

And his rapt spirit, self-included, rests.

Anon, as when a spark doth fire a mine,

Upon a touch of sorrow or of joy,

Anger or whim, he breaks impetuous forth.

Now he must compass all things, all retain,

All his caprices must be realiz’d;

What should have ripen’d slowly through long years.

Must, in a moment, reach maturity;

And obstacles, which years of patient toil

Could scarce remove, be levell’d in a trice.

He from himself th’ impossible demands,

That he from others may demand it too;

Th’ extreniest limits of existing things

His soul would hold in contiguity,

This one man in a million scarce achieves,

And he is not that man; at length he falls,

No whit the better, back into himself.

Leonora.

Others he injures not, himself he injures.

Antonio.

Yet others he doth outrage grievously.

Canst thou deny that in his passion’s height.

Which o’er his spirit oft usurps control,

The prince and e’en the princess he contemns,

And dares at whom he may to hurl abuse?

True, for a moment only it endures;

But then the moment quickly comes again.

His tongue, as little as his breast, he rules.

Leonora.

To me, indeed, it seems advisable

That he should leave Ferrara for awhile;—

Himself would benefit, and others too.

Antonio.

Perchance,—perchance too not. But now, my friend,

It is not to be thought of. For myself.

I will not on my shoulders bear the blame.

It might appear as if I drove him hence.

I drive him not. As far as I’m concern’d,

He at the court may tarry undisturb’d:

And if with me he will be reconcil’d,

And to my counsel if he will give heed,

We may live peaceably enough together.

Leonora.

Now thou dost hope to work upon a mind

Which lately thou didst look upon as lost.

Antonio.

We always hope, and still in every case

’Tis better far to hope than to despair;

For who can calculate the possible?

Our prince esteems him; he must stay with us;

And if we strive to fashion him in vain,

He’s not the only one we must endure.

Leonora.

So free from passion and from prejudice

I had not thought thee;—thy conversion’s sudden.

Antonio.

Age must, my friend, this one advantage claim,

That, though from error it be not exempt,

Its balance it recovers speedily.

Thou didst at first essay to heal the breach

Between thy friend and me. I urge it now.

Do what thou canst to bring him to himself,

And to restore things to their wonted calm.

Myself will visit him, when I shall know

From thee that he is tranquil, when thou thinkest

My presence will not aggravate the evil.

But what thou dost, that do within the hour;

Alphonso will return to town ere night;

I must attend him there. Meanwhile, farewell!