No More Learning

_Stral. _ It is the richest of the rich Bohemia,
Unscathed by scorching war. It lies so near
The strongest city, Prague, that fire and sword
Have skimmed it lightly: so that now, besides
Its own exuberance, it bears double value
Confronted with whole realms far and near
Made deserts.

_Ulr. _ You describe it faithfully.

_Stral. _ Aye--could you see it, you would say so--but,
As I have said, you shall.

_Ulr. _ I accept the omen. 380

_Stral. _ Then claim a recompense from it and me,
Such as _both_ may make worthy your acceptance
And services to me and mine for ever.

_Ulr. _ And this sole, sick, and miserable wretch--
This way-worn stranger--stands between you and
This Paradise? --(As Adam did between
The devil and his)--[_Aside_].

_Stral. _ He doth.

_Ulr. _ Hath he no right?

_Stral. _ Right! none. A disinherited prodigal,
Who for these twenty years disgraced his lineage
In all his acts--but chiefly by his marriage, 390
And living amidst commerce-fetching burghers,
And dabbling merchants, in a mart of Jews.

_Ulr. _ He has a wife, then?

_Stral. _ You'd be sorry to
Call such your mother. You have seen the woman
He _calls_ his wife.

_Ulr. _ Is she not so?

_Stral. _ No more
Than he's your father:--an Italian girl,
The daughter of a banished man, who lives
On love and poverty with this same Werner.

_Ulr. _ They are childless, then?

_Stral. _ There is or was a bastard,
Whom the old man--the grandsire (as old age 400
Is ever doting) took to warm his bosom,
As it went chilly downward to the grave:
But the imp stands not in my path--he has fled,
No one knows whither; and if he had not,
His claims alone were too contemptible
To stand. --Why do you smile?

_Ulr. _ At your vain fears:
A poor man almost in his grasp--a child
Of doubtful birth--can startle a grandee!

_Stral. _ All's to be feared, where all is to be gained.

_Ulr. _ True; and aught done to save or to obtain it. 410

_Stral. _ You have harped the very string next to my heart[185].
I may depend upon you?

_Ulr. _ 'Twere too late
To doubt it.

_Stral. _ Let no foolish pity shake
Your bosom (for the appearance of the man
Is pitiful)--he is a wretch, as likely
To have robbed me as the fellow more suspected,
Except that circumstance is less against him;
He being lodged far off, and in a chamber
Without approach to mine; and, to say truth,
I think too well of blood allied to mine, 420
To deem he would descend to such an act:
Besides, he was a soldier, and a brave one
Once--though too rash.

_Ulr. _ And they, my Lord, we know
By our experience, never plunder till
They knock the brains out first--which makes them heirs,
Not thieves. The dead, who feel nought, can lose nothing,
Nor e'er be robbed: their spoils are a bequest--
No more.

_Stral. _ Go to! you are a wag. But say
I may be sure you'll keep an eye on this man,
And let me know his slightest movement towards 430
Concealment or escape.

_Ulr. _ You may be sure
You yourself could not watch him more than I
Will be his sentinel.

_Stral. _ By this you make me
Yours, and for ever.

_Ulr. _ Such is my intention. [_Exeunt_.




ACT III.

SCENE I. --_A Hall in the same Palace, from whence the
secret Passage leads_.

_Enter_ WERNER _and_ GABOR.

_Gab. _ Sir, I have told my tale: if it so please you
To give me refuge for a few hours, well--
If not, I'll try my fortune elsewhere.

_Wer. _ How
Can I, so wretched, give to Misery
A shelter? --wanting such myself as much
As e'er the hunted deer a covert----

_Gab. _ Or
The wounded lion his cool cave. Methinks
You rather look like one would turn at bay,
And rip the hunter's entrails.

_Wer. _ Ah!

_Gab. _ I care not
If it be so, being much disposed to do 10
The same myself. But will you shelter me?
I am oppressed like you--and poor like you--
Disgraced----

_Wer. _ (_abruptly_). Who told you that I was disgraced?

_Gab. _ No one; nor did I say _you_ were so: with
Your poverty my likeness ended; but
I said _I_ was so--and would add, with truth,
As undeservedly as _you_.

_Wer. _ Again!
As _I_?

_Gab. _ Or any other honest man.
What the devil would you have? You don't believe me
Guilty of this base theft?

_Wer. _ No, no--I cannot. 20

_Gab. _ Why that's my heart of honour! yon young gallant--
Your miserly Intendant and dense noble--
All--all suspected me; and why? because
I am the worst clothed, and least named amongst them;
Although, were Momus'[186] lattice in your breasts,
My soul might brook to open it more widely
Than theirs: but thus it is--you poor and helpless--
Both still more than myself.

_Wer. _ How know you that?

_Gab. _ You're right: I ask for shelter at the hand
Which I call helpless; if you now deny it, 30
I were well paid. But you, who seem to have proved
The wholesome bitterness of life, know well,
By sympathy, that all the outspread gold
Of the New World the Spaniard boasts about
Could never tempt the man who knows its worth,
Weighed at its proper value in the balance,
Save in such guise (and there I grant its power,
Because I feel it,) as may leave no nightmare
Upon his heart o' nights.

_Wer. _ What do you mean?

_Gab. _ Just what I say; I thought my speech was plain: 40
You are no thief--nor I--and, as true men,
Should aid each other.

_Wer. _ It is a damned world, sir.

_Gab. _ So is the nearest of the two next, as
The priests say (and no doubt they should know best),
Therefore I'll stick by this--as being both
To suffer martyrdom, at least with such
An epitaph as larceny upon my tomb.
It is but a night's lodging which I crave;
To-morrow I will try the waters, as
The dove did--trusting that they have abated. 50

_Wer. _ Abated? Is there hope of that?

_Gab. _ There was
At noontide.

_Wer. _ Then we may be safe.

_Gab. _ Are _you_
In peril?

_Wer. _ Poverty is ever so.

_Gab. _ That I know by long practice. Will you not
Promise to make mine less?

_Wer. _ Your poverty?

_Gab. _ No--you don't look a leech for that disorder;
I meant my peril only: you've a roof,
And I have none; I merely seek a covert.

_Wer. _ Rightly; for how should such a wretch as I
Have gold?

_Gab. _ Scarce honestly, to say the truth on't, 60
Although I almost wish you had the Baron's.

_Wer. _ Dare you insinuate?

_Gab. _ What?

_Wer. _ Are you aware
To whom you speak?

_Gab. _ No; and I am not used
Greatly to care. (_A noise heard without_. ) But hark! they come!

_Wer. _ Who come?

_Gab. _ The Intendant and his man-hounds after me:
I'd face them--but it were in vain to expect
Justice at hands like theirs. Where shall I go?
But show me any place. I do assure you,
If there be faith in man, I am most guiltless:
Think if it were your own case!

_Wer. _ (_aside_). Oh, just God! 70
Thy hell is not hereafter! Am I dust still?

_Gab. _ I see you're moved; and it shows well in you:
I may live to requite it.

_Wer. _ Are you not
A spy of Stralenheim's?

_Gab. _ Not I! and if
I were, what is there to espy in you?
Although, I recollect, his frequent question
About you and your spouse might lead to some
Suspicion; but you best know--what--and why.
I am his deadliest foe.

_Wer. _ _You? _

_Gab. _ After such
A treatment for the service which in part 80
I rendered him, I am his enemy:
If you are not his friend you will assist me.

_Wer. _ I will.

_Gab. _ But how?

_Wer. _ (_showing the panel_). There is a secret spring:
Remember, I discovered it by chance,
And used it but for safety.

_Gab. _ Open it,
And I will use it for the same.

_Wer. _ I found it,
As I have said: it leads through winding walls,
(So thick as to bear paths within their ribs,
Yet lose no jot of strength or stateliness,)
And hollow cells, and obscure niches, to 90
I know not whither; you must not advance:
Give me your word.

_Gab. _ It is unecessary:
How should I make my way in darkness through
A Gothic labyrinth of unknown windings?

_Wer. _ Yes, but who knows to what place it may lead?
_I_ know not--(mark you! )--but who knows it might not
Lead even into the chamber of your foe?
So strangely were contrived these galleries
By our Teutonic fathers in old days,
When man built less against the elements 100
Than his next neighbour. You must not advance
Beyond the two first windings; if you do
(Albeit I never passed them,) I'll not answer
For what you may be led to.

_Gab. _ But I will.
A thousand thanks!

_Wer. _ You'll find the spring more obvious
On the other side; and, when you would return,
It yields to the least touch.

_Gab. _ I'll in--farewell!
[GABOR _goes in by the secret panel_.

_Wer. _ (_solus_). What have I done? Alas!
what _had_ I done
Before to make this fearful? Let it be
Still some atonement that I save the man, 110
Whose sacrifice had saved perhaps my own--
They come! to seek elsewhere what is before them!

_Enter_ IDENSTEIN _and Others_.

_Iden. _ Is he not here? He must have vanished then
Through the dim Gothic glass by pious aid
Of pictured saints upon the red and yellow
Casements, through which the sunset streams like sunrise
On long pearl-coloured beards and crimson crosses.
And gilded crosiers, and crossed arms, and cowls,
And helms, and twisted armour, and long swords,
All the fantastic furniture of windows 120
Dim with brave knights and holy hermits, whose
Likeness and fame alike rest in some panes
Of crystal, which each rattling wind proclaims
As frail as any other life or glory.
He's gone, however.

_Wer. _ Whom do you seek?

_Iden. _ A villain.

_Wer. _ Why need you come so far, then?

_Iden. _ In the search
Of him who robbed the Baron.

_Wer. _ Are you sure
You have divined the man?

_Iden. _ As sure as you
Stand there: but where's he gone?

_Wer. _ Who?

_Iden. _ He we sought.

_Wer. _ You see he is not here.

_Iden. _ And yet we traced him 130
Up to this hall. Are you accomplices?
Or deal you in the black art?

_Wer. _ I deal plainly,
To many men the blackest.

_Iden. _ It may be
I have a question or two for yourself
Hereafter; but we must continue now
Our search for t'other.

_Wer. _ You had best begin
Your inquisition now: I may not be
So patient always.

_Iden. _ I should like to know,
In good sooth, if you really are the man
That Stralenheim's in quest of.

_Wer. _ Insolent! 140
Said you not that he was not here?

_Iden. _ Yes, _one_;
But there's another whom he tracks more keenly,
And soon, it may be, with authority
Both paramount to his and mine. But come!
Bustle, my boys! we are at fault.
[_Exit_ IDENSTEIN _and Attendants_.

_Wer. _ In what
A maze hath my dim destiny involved me!
And one base sin hath done me less ill than
The leaving undone one far greater. Down,
Thou busy devil, rising in my heart!
Thou art too late! I'll nought to do with blood. 150

_Enter_ ULRIC.

_Ulr. _ I sought you, father.

_Wer. _ Is't not dangerous?

_Ulr. _ No; Stralenheim is ignorant of all
Or any of the ties between us: more--
He sends me here a spy upon your actions,
Deeming me wholly his.

_Wer. _ I cannot think it:
'Tis but a snare he winds about us both,
To swoop the sire and son at once.

_Ulr. _ I cannot
Pause in each petty fear, and stumble at
The doubts that rise like briers in our path,
But must break through them, as an unarmed carle 160
Would, though with naked limbs, were the wolf rustling
In the same thicket where he hewed for bread.
Nets are for thrushes, eagles are not caught so:
We'll overfly or rend them.

_Wer. _ Show me _how? _

_Ulr. _ Can you not guess?

_Wer. _ I cannot.

_Ulr. _ That is strange.
Came the thought ne'er into your mind _last night_?

_Wer. _ I understand you not.

_Ulr. _ Then we shall never
More understand each other. But to change
The topic----

_Wer. _ You mean to _pursue_ it, as
'Tis of our safety.

_Ulr. _ Right; I stand corrected. 170
I see the subject now more clearly, and
Our general situation in its bearings.
The waters are abating; a few hours
Will bring his summoned myrmidons from Frankfort,
When you will be a prisoner, perhaps worse,
And I an outcast, bastardised by practice
Of this same Baron to make way for him.

_Wer. _ And now your remedy! I thought to escape
By means of this accursed gold; but now
I dare not use it, show it, scarce look on it. 180
Methinks it wears upon its face my guilt
For motto, not the mintage of the state;
And, for the sovereign's head, my own begirt
With hissing snakes, which curl around my temples,
And cry to all beholders, Lo! a villain!

_Ulr. _ You must not use it, at least now; but take
This ring. [_He gives_ WERNER _a jewel_.

_Wer. _ A gem! It was my father's!

_Ulr. _ And
As such is now your own. With this you must
Bribe the Intendant for his old caleche
And horses to pursue your route at sunrise, 190
Together with my mother.

_Wer. _ And leave you,
So lately found, in peril too?

_Ulr. _ Fear nothing!
The only fear were if we fled together,
For that would make our ties beyond all doubt.
The waters only lie in flood between
This burgh and Frankfort: so far's in our favour
The route on to Bohemia, though encumbered,
Is not impassable; and when you gain
A few hours' start, the difficulties will be
The same to your pursuers. Once beyond 200
The frontier, and you're safe.

_Wer. _ My noble boy!

_Ulr. _ Hush! hush! no transports: we'll indulge in them
In Castle Siegendorf! Display no gold:
Show Idenstein the gem (I know the man,
And have looked through him): it will answer thus
A double purpose. Stralenheim lost _gold_--
_No_ jewel: therefore it could _not_ be his;
And then the man who was possest of this
Can hardly be suspected of abstracting
The Baron's coin, when he could thus convert 210
This ring to more than Stralenheim has lost
By his last night's slumber. Be not over timid
In your address, nor yet too arrogant,
And Idenstein will serve you.

_Wer. _ I will follow
In all things your direction.

_Ulr. _ I would have
Spared you the trouble; but had I appeared
To take an interest in you, and still more
By dabbling with a jewel in your favour,
All had been known at once.

_Wer. _ My guardian angel!
This overpays the past. But how wilt thou 220
Fare in our absence?

_Ulr. _ Stralenheim knows nothing
Of me as aught of kindred with yourself.
I will but wait a day or two with him
To lull all doubts, and then rejoin my father.

_Wer. _ To part no more!

_Ulr. _ I know not that; but at
The least we'll meet again once more.

_Wer. _ My boy!
My friend! my only child, and sole preserver!
Oh, do not hate me!

_Ulr. _ Hate my father!

_Wer. _ Aye,
My father hated me. Why not my son?

_Ulr. _ Your father knew you not as I do.

_Wer. _ Scorpions 230
Are in thy words! Thou know me? in this guise
Thou canst not know me, I am not myself;
Yet (hate me not) I will be soon.

_Ulr. _ I'll _wait! _
In the mean time be sure that all a son
Can do for parents shall be done for mine.

_Wer. _ I see it, and I feel it; yet I feel
Further--that you despise me.

_Ulr. _ Wherefore should I?

_Wer. _ Must I repeat my humiliation?

_Ulr. _ No!
I have fathomed it and you. But let us talk
Of this no more. Or, if it must be ever, 240
Not _now_. Your error has redoubled all
The present difficulties of our house
At secret war with that of Stralenheim:
All we have now to think of is to baffle
HIM. I have shown _one_ way.

_Wer. _ The only one,
And I embrace it, as I did my son,
Who showed _himself_ and father's _safety_ in
One day.

_Ulr. _ You _shall_ be safe; let that suffice.
Would Stralenheim's appearance in Bohemia
Disturb your right, or mine, if once we were 250
Admitted to our lands?

_Wer. _ Assuredly,
Situate as we are now; although the first
Possessor might, as usual, prove the strongest--
Especially the next in blood.

_Ulr. _ _Blood_! 'tis
A word of many meanings; in the veins,
And out of them, it is a different thing--
And so it should be, when the same in blood
(As it is called) are aliens to each other,
Like Theban brethren:[187] when a part is bad,
A few spilt ounces purify the rest. 260

_Wer. _ I do not apprehend you.

_Ulr. _ That may be--
And should, perhaps--and yet--but get ye ready;
You and my mother must away to-night.
Here comes the Intendant: sound him with the gem;
'Twill sink into his venal soul like lead
Into the deep, and bring up slime and mud,
And ooze, too, from the bottom, as the lead doth
With its greased understratum;[188] but no less
Will serve to warn our vessels through these shoals.
The freight is rich, so heave the line in time! 270
Farewell! I scarce have time, but yet your _hand_,
My father! ----

_Wer. _ Let me embrace thee!

_Ulr. _ We may be
Observed: subdue your nature to the hour!
Keep off from me as from your foe!

_Wer. _ Accursed
Be he who is the stifling cause which smothers
The best and sweetest feeling of our hearts;
At such an hour too!

_Ulr. _ Yes, curse--it will ease you!
Here is the Intendant.

_Enter_ IDENSTEIN.

_Ulr. _ Master Idenstein,
How fare you in your purpose? Have you caught
The rogue?

_Iden. _ No, faith!

_Ulr. _ Well, there are plenty more: 280
You may have better luck another chase.
Where is the Baron?

_Iden. _ Gone back to his chamber:
And now I think on't, asking after you
With nobly-born impatience.