_Carl_. Nay--that's hopeless. 140 They must not only mend but draw it too.
The mules are drowned--a murrain on them both!
One kicked me as I would have helped him on.
_Stralenheim_. It is most irksome to me--this delay.
I was for Prague on business of great moment.
_Werner_. For Prague--Sir--Say you?--
_Stralenheim_. Yes, my host! for Prague.
And these vile floods and villainous cross roads Steal my time from it's uses--but--my people?
Where do they shelter?
_Ulric_. In the boatman's shed, Near to the ferry: you mistook the ford-- 150 Tis higher to the right:--their entertainment Will be but rough--but 'tis a single night, And they had best be guardians of the baggage.
The shed will hold the weather from their sleep, The woodfire warm them--and, for beds, a cloak Is swansdown to a seasoned traveller: It has been mine for many a moon, and may Tonight, for aught it recks me.
_Stralenheim_. And tomorrow I must be on my journey--and betimes.
It is not more than three days travel, hence, 160 To Mansfeldt Castle.
_Werner and Ulric_. Mansfeldt Castle!--
_Stralenheim_. Aye!
For thither tends my progress--so, betimes, Mine host I would be stirring--think of that!
And let me find my couch of rest at present.
_Werner_. You shall Sir--but--to Mansfeldt!-- [ULRIC _stops his father and says aside to him_, _Silence--father--_ Whate'er it be that shakes you thus--_tread down_-- (_To Stralenheim_) My father, Sir, was born not far from Prague, And knows it's environs--and, when he hears, The name endeared to him by native thoughts, He would ask of it, and it's habitants-- 170 You will excuse his plain blunt mode of question.
_Stralenheim_. Indeed, perchance, then, he may aid my search.
Pray, know you aught of one named Werner? who (But he no doubt has passed through many names), Lived long in Hamburgh--and has thence been traced Into Silesia--and not far from hence-- But there we lost him; he who can disclose Aught of him, or his hiding-place, will find Advantage in revealing it.
_Ulric_. Why so--Sir?
_Stralenheim_. There are strong reasons to suspect this man 180 Of crimes against the State--league with Swedes-- And other evil acts of moment:--he Who shall deliver him, bound hand and foot, Will benefit his country and himself: I will reward him doubly too.
_Ulric_. You know him?
_Stralenheim_. He never met my eyes--but Circumstance Has led me to near knowledge of the man.
He is a villain--and an enemy To all men--most to me! If earth contain him, He shall be found and fettered: I have hopes, 190 By traces which tomorrow will unravel, A fresh clue to his lurking spot is nigh.
_Carl_. And, if I find it, I will break the thread.
What, all the world against one luckless wight!
And he a fugitive--I would I knew him!
_Ulric_. You'd help him to escape--is it not so?
_Carl_. I would, indeed!
_Ulric_. The greater greenhorn you!
I would secure him--nay--I will do so.
_Stralenheim_. If it be so--my gratitude for aid, And rescue of my life from the wild waters, 200 Will double in it's strength and it's requital.
Your father, too, perhaps can help our search?
_Werner_. _I_ turn a spy--no--not for _Mansfeldt Castle_, And all the broad domain it frowns upon.
_Stralenheim_. Mansfeldt again!--you know it then? perchance, You also know the story of it's lords?
_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 Back on my full heart with a dancing tide: It was my weary hope's unthought fulfilment, My agony of mother-feelings curdled 250 At once in gathered rapture--which did change My cheek into the hue of fainting Nature.
I should have answered thus--and yet I could not: For though 'twas true--it was not all the truth.
I have much suffered in the thought of Werner's Late deep distemperature of mind and fortunes, Which since have almost driven him into phrenzy:-- And though that I would soothe, not share, such passions, And show not how they shake me:--when alone, I feel them prey upon me by reflection, 260 And want the very solace I bestowed; And which, it seems, I cannot give and have.
Ulric must be my comforter--his father's Hath long been the most melancholy soul That ever hovered o'er the verge of Madness: And, better, had he leapt into it's gulph: Though to the Mad thoughts are realities, Yet they can play with sorrow--and live on.
But with the mind of consciousness and care The body wears to ruin, and the struggle, 270 However long, is deadly----He is lost, And all around him tasteless:--in his mirth His very laughter moves me oft to tears, And I have turned to hide them--for, in him, As Sunshine glittering o'er unburied bones---- Soft--he is here.----
_Werner_. Josepha--where is Ulric?
_Josepha_. Gone with the other stranger to gaze o'er These shattered corridors, and spread themselves A pillow with their mantles, in the least ruinous: I must replenish the diminished hearth 280 In the inner chamber--the repast is ready, And Ulric will be here again.--
THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED: