Thou art indeed a melancholy jest! [_Exit_ GABOR.
SCENE II.--_The Apartment of_ WERNER, _in the Palace_.
_Enter_ JOSEPHINE _and_ ULRIC.
_Jos._ Stand back, and let me look on thee again!
My Ulric!--my beloved!--can it be-- After twelve years?
_Ulr._ My dearest mother!
_Jos._ Yes!
My dream is realised--how beautiful!-- How more than all I sighed for! Heaven receive A mother's thanks! a mother's tears of joy!
This is indeed thy work!--At such an hour, too, He comes not only as a son, but saviour.
_Ulr._ If such a joy await me, it must double What I now feel, and lighten from my heart 10 A part of the long debt of duty, not Of love (for that was ne'er withheld)--forgive me!
This long delay was not my fault.
_Jos._ I know it, But cannot think of sorrow now, and doubt If I e'er felt it, 'tis so dazzled from My memory by this oblivious transport!-- My son!
_Enter_ WERNER.
_Wer._ What have we here,--more strangers?--
_Jos._ No!
Look upon him! What do you see?
_Wer._ A stripling, For the first time--
_Ulr._ (_kneeling_). For twelve long years, my father!
_Wer._ Oh, God!
_Jos._ He faints!
_Wer._ No--I am better now-- 20 Ulric! (_Embraces him_.)
_Ulr._ My father, Siegendorf!
_Wer._ (_starting_). Hush! boy-- The walls may hear that name!
_Ulr._ What then?
_Wer._ Why, then-- But we will talk of that anon. Remember, I must be known here but as Werner. Come!
Come to my arms again! Why, thou look'st all I should have been, and was not. Josephine!
Sure 'tis no father's fondness dazzles me; But, had I seen that form amid ten thousand Youth of the choicest, my heart would have chosen This for my son!
_Ulr._ And yet you knew me not! 30
_Wer._ Alas! I have had that upon my soul Which makes me look on all men with an eye That only knows the evil at first glance.
_Ulr._ My memory served me far more fondly: I Have not forgotten aught; and oft-times in The proud and princely halls of--(I'll not name them, As you say that 'tis perilous)--but i' the pomp Of your sire's feudal mansion, I looked back To the Bohemian mountains many a sunset, And wept to see another day go down 40 O'er thee and me, with those huge hills between us.
They shall not part us more.
_Wer._ I know not that.
Are you aware my father is no more?
_Ulr._ Oh, Heavens! I left him in a green old age, And looking like the oak, worn, but still steady Amidst the elements, whilst younger trees Fell fast around him. 'Twas scarce three months since.
_Wer._ Why did you leave him?
_Jos._ (_embracing_ ULRIC). Can you ask that question?
Is he not _here_?
_Wer._ True; he hath sought his parents, And found them; but, oh! _how_, and in what state! 50
_Ulr._ All shall be bettered. What we have to do Is to proceed, and to assert our rights, Or rather yours; for I waive all, unless Your father has disposed in such a sort Of his broad lands as to make mine the foremost, So that I must prefer my claim for form: But I trust better, and that all is yours.
_Wer._ Have you not heard of Stralenheim?
_Ulr._ I saved His life but yesterday: he's here.
_Wer._ You saved The serpent who will sting us all!
_Ulr._ You speak 60 Riddles: what is this Stralenheim to us?
_Wer._ Every thing. One who claims our father's lands: Our distant kinsman, and our nearest foe.
_Ulr._ I never heard his name till now. The Count, Indeed, spoke sometimes of a kinsman, who, If his own line should fail, might be remotely Involved in the succession; but his titles Were never named before me--and what then?
His right must yield to ours.
_Wer._ Aye, if at Prague: But here he is all-powerful; and has spread 70 Snares for thy father, which, if hitherto He hath escaped them, is by fortune, not By favour.
_Ulr._ Doth he personally know you?
_Wer._ No; but he guesses shrewdly at my person, As he betrayed last night; and I, perhaps, But owe my temporary liberty To his uncertainty.
_Ulr._ I think you wrong him (Excuse me for the phrase); but Stralenheim Is not what you prejudge him, or, if so, He owes me something both for past and present. 80 I saved his life, he therefore trusts in me.
He hath been plundered too, since he came hither: Is sick, a stranger, and as such not now Able to trace the villain who hath robbed him: I have pledged myself to do so; and the business Which brought me here was chiefly that:[176] but I Have found, in searching for another's dross, My own whole treasure--you, my parents!
_Wer._ (_agitatedly_). Who Taught you to mouth that name of "villain?"
_Ulr._ What More noble name belongs to common thieves? 90
_Wer._ Who taught you thus to brand an unknown being With an infernal stigma?
_Ulr._ My own feelings Taught me to name a ruffian from his deeds.
_Wer._ Who taught you, long-sought and ill-found boy! that It would be safe for my own son to insult me?