w, count Roland, and
his falconers were almost instantly expected! Charming! delightful! tho'
I didn't see him when he visited Roland castle--though this will be our
first, I trust it won't be our last meeting; for, in my mind, his real
motive is not to see the good old marquis, but a young fair one, called
Ulrica. Oh! if it prove as I suspect, I'll match these hesitating
Ravensburgs!

[_Going into the chateau._

Oliver _enters from it._

_Ol._ Oh, madam, I'm so glad you're come, for what with the prince, and
the baron being absent, and my poor Agnes not yet return'd and the poor
lock'd up lady Ulrica yonder (_pointing to a window in the chateau_)
sighing for her cousin Christopher! I was just saying, anybody's company
would be better than nobody's.

_Count._ Cousin Christopher, the unknown impostor I'm in search of. And
after I have so convinced the baron!--

_Ol._ I know--I know you have convinced the baron, that you've no poor
Franconia relations; but I do say, as the lady Ulrica has no objection,
I wish this Christopher were her husband, (_countess frowns._) I do; for
in that case, she not being able to marry my young master, and my young
master being able to marry Agnes, I should see what I hav'n't seen since
I lost my sweet Seraphina! a real happy handsome couple.

_Count._ Show me in, Sir; and instead of chattering about my pretended
nephew Christopher, talk of my real nephew, count Roland! who, though to
me a stranger, is none to the lady Ulrica, as you call her. (_Horns
without._) Hark! he comes! count Roland comes! and, as I thought--see!
towards Ulrica's residence! to sigh and moan under his true-love's
window!--Now for it. I'll just step in, and give further orders for
pursuing this sham nephew, Christopher; and then, if I don't match old
baron Ravensburg, and his capricious son, say I'm no match-maker.

_Exit into the chateau, preceded by Oliver._

_Enter count_ Roland _and 1st Falconer._

_Count._ Behold the beauties of this far-fam'd spot, and foremost to
delight the traveller's eye, yon venerable Abbey! founded by him whose
laurels shall for ever bloom.

_1st. Falc._ And see, my lord, yonder is the marquis Alberti's chateau.

_Count._ Happy Alberti! who having brav'd the perils of the ocean, now
finds a haven in his faithful Ella's love. Oh! I shall ne'er forget the
day they parted, nor that tempestuous night, when many a shipwreck'd
mariner was lost.

SONG--_Count._

I.