?

_Werner_. Whate'er I know, there is no bribe of thine
Can swerve me to the crooked path thou pointest.
The chamber's ready, which your rest demands.

_Stralenheim_ (_aside_).
'Tis strange--this peasant's tone is wondrous high, 210
His air imperious--and his eye shines out
As wont to look command with a quick glance--
His garb befits him not--why, he may be
The man I look for! now, I look again,
There is the very lip--short curling lip--
And the oerjutting eye-brow dark and large,
And the peculiar wild variety
Of feature, even unto the Viper's eye,
Of that detested race, and it's descendant
Who stands alone between me and a power, 220
Which Princes gaze at with unquiet eyes!
This is no peasant--but, whate'er he be,
Tomorrow shall secure him and unfold.

_Ulric_. It will not please you, Sir, then to remain
With us beyond tomorrow?

_Stralenheim_. Nay--I do not say so--there is no haste.
And now I think again--I'll tarry here--
Perhaps until the floods abate--we'll see--
In the mean time--to my chamber--so--Good Night!
[_Exit with_ WERNER.

_Werner_. This way, Sir.

_Carl_. And I to mine: pray, where are we to rest? 230
We'll sup within--

_Ulric_. What matter where--there's room.

_Carl_. I would fain see my way through this vast ruin;
Come take the lamp, and we'll explore together.

_Josepha_ (_meeting them_). And I will with my son.

_Ulric_. Nay--stay--dear mother!
These chilly damps and the cold rush of winds
Fling a rough paleness o'er thy delicate cheek--
And thou seem'st lovely in thy sickliness
Of most transparent beauty:--but it grieves me.
Nay! tarry here by the blaze of the bright hearth:--
I will return anon--and we have much 240
To listen and impart. Come, Carl, we'll find
Some gorgeous canopy, and, thence, unroost
It's present bedfellows the bats--and thou
Shalt slumber underneath a velvet cloud
That mantles o'er the couch of some dead Countess.
[_Exit_ CARL _and_ ULRIC.

_Josepha_ (_sola_). It was my joy to see him--nothing more
I should have said--which sent my gush of blood
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