HELENE.

Not altogether :

Why love you gold? It does not make you happy.

DUKE.

No, child; nor wine the drunkard, yet he loves it.

HELENE.

Oh, let me woo thee back to thine old self,
Untwist the threads, this spider avarice,

With unseen shuttle coursing to and fro,
Hath woven about thy heart!

DUKE.

Too late, too late!

HELENE.

Then, would you have me wed Prince Rudolph, father?

DUKE.

Nay, since you love him not.

HELENE

But if I loved him?

DUKE

Then I should lose thee, and be left alone,
And, though but now I knew it not, that loss
Would quench the splendour.

HELENE.

Then, 'tis not too late;

The love of me against the love of gold

Love matched with love, the stronger love must win.

Thou hast made choice betwixt us.

DUKE.

Ah! child, child,

This way or that, my life-days are eclipsed:

For either needy clouds usurp the sun,

Or thou, the finger of my dial-plate,
Half-gilded by his beams, a shade wilt cast

From hour to hour, and all the hours are mine.

HELENE.

I would that thou couldst love the people more :

Their wealth, the common wealth, would make thee happier.

DUKE.

I cannot. They are base, rebellious, hateful:
Unthrifty, they have brought my land to ruin;
Disloyal, they have made me what I am.

HELENE.

Be what you were, not what you are, dear father,
Except to me. Long years ago I mind me

Of one sweet morn in summer, when you

Hunting or hawking on the mountain-side,

rode

And met your little maiden flushed with flowers,
And trailing flowers at every wasteful step,

And stooping plucked her to your side, and kissed,

And called her fairest of them all, and said

That she was more than the wide world to you.
Do you remember, father?

DUKE.

Ay, my child.

HELENE.

Tread back, obliterate the dead past, that lies
Betwixt that living moment and to-day.

[The DUKE bows his head upon her shoulder.

A deputation waits to see your Highness;

Shall they have audience, sire?

DUKE.

From whom?

ARNFELD.

Your serfs.

DUKE.

No, not to-day.

HELENE.

Yes, father, yes.

D

DUKE.

Admit them.

[Exit ARNFELD.

HEINRICH.

Corcilius, I must throw myself before her-
She is a goddess-and declare my love,
My name, my state; for I am hers, hers only.

CORCILIUS.

Ay, but she is not thine. What, Karl, art mad?
Remember Rudolph-nay, you shall not go,

By Heaven! Be patient, or you ruin all.

Re-enter ARNFELD, introducing KUNO, and KAUZ disguised as a peasant.

ARNFELD.

These men, sire, crave permission but to read
A brief memorial to your Highness, drawn
Roughly, 'twould seem, and with untutored wit
By peasants of your land, who treat therein
Of certain wrongs alleged, and grievances.
Will't please you they should read?