e burden of self-rule--Oh--half my work
Were eased, and I could live for thee and thine,
And take no thought of self. Oh, be not jealous,
Mine own, mine idol! For thy sake I ask it--
I would but be a mate and help more meet
For all thy knightly virtues.

Lewis. 'Tis too true!
I have felt it long; we stand, two weakling children,
Under too huge a burden, while temptations
Like adders swarm up round: I must be led--
But thou alone shall lead me.

Eliz. I? beloved!
This load more? Strengthen, Lord, the feeble knees!

Lewis. Yes! thou, my queen, who making thyself once mine,
Hast made me sevenfold thine; I own thee guide
Of my devotions, mine ambition's lodestar,
The Saint whose shrine I serve with lance and lute;
If thou wilt have a ruler, let him be,
Through thee, the ruler of thy slave. [Kneels to her.]

Eliz. Oh, kneel not--
But grant my prayer--If we shall find this man,
As well I know him, worthy, let him be
Director of my conscience and my actions
With all but thee--Within love's inner shrine
We shall be still alone--But joy! here comes
Our embassy, successful.

[Enter Conrad, with Count Walter, Monks, Ladies, etc.]

Conrad. Peace to this house.

Eliz. Hail to your holiness.

Lewis. The odour of your sanctity and might,
With balmy steam and gales of Paradise,
Forestalls you hither.

Eliz. Bless us doubly, master,
With holy doctrine, and with holy prayers.

Con. Children, I am the servant of Christ's servants--
And needs must yield to those who may command
By right of creed; I do accept your bounty--
Not for myself, but for that priceless name,
Whose dread authority and due commission,
Attested by the seal of His vicegerent,
I bear unworthy here; through my vile lips
Christ and His vicar thank you; on myself--
And these, my brethren, Christ's adopted poor--
A menial's crust, and some waste nook, or dog-hutch,
Wherein the worthless flesh may nightly hide,
Are best bestowed.

Eliz. You shall be where you will--
Do what you will; unquestioned, unobserved,
Enjoy, refrain; silence and solitude,
The better part which such like spirits choose,
We will provide; only be you our master,
And we your servants, for a few short days:
Oh, blessed days!

Con. Ah, be not hasty, madam;
Think whom you welcome; one who has no skill
To wink and speak smooth things; whom fear of God
Constrains to daily wrath; who brings, alas!
A sword, not peace: within whose bones the word
Burns like a pen