Bring forth once more my bullion, treasured deep,
With all my jewell'd salvers, silver and gold,
And precious goblets that make rich the wine
But why do I stand babbling to myself?
Where is Auranthe? I have news for her
Shall

Enter AURANTHE.

Auranthe Conrad! what tidings? Good, if I

may guess

From your alert eyes and high-lifted brows. What tidings of the battle? Albert? Ludolph ? Otho ?

Conrad. You guess aright. And, sister, slur. ring o'er

Our by-gone quarrels, I confess my heart
Is beating with a child's anxiety,

To make our golden fortune known to you.
Auranthe. So serious?

Conrad.

Yes, so serious, that before

I utter even the shadow of a hint

Concerning what will make that sin-worn cheek Blush joyous blood through every lineament, You must make here a solemn vow to me.

Auranthe. I pr'y thee, Conrad, do not overact The hypocrite. What vow would you impose? Conrad. Trust me for once. That you may be

assured

'Tis not confiding in a broken reed,
A poor court-bankrupt, outwitted and lost,
Revolve these facts in your acutest mood,
In such a mood as now you listen to me:
A few days since, I was an open rebel,-.
Against the Emperor had suborn'd his
Drawn off his nobles to revolt, and shown
Contented fools causes for discontent,
Fresh hatch'd in my ambition's eagle-nest

So thrived I as a rebel,—and, behold!

Now I am Otho's favourite, his dear friend,
His right hand, his brave Conrad!

Auranthe.

I confess

You have intrigued with these unsteady times
To admiration. But to be a favourite!

The Hungarians,

Conrad. I saw my moment. Collected silently in holes and corners, Appear'd, a sudden host, in the open day. I should have perish'd in our empire's wreck, But, calling interest loyalty, swore faith To most believing Otho; and so help'd His blood-stain'd ensigns to the victory In yesterday's hard fight, that it has turn'd The edge of his sharp wrath to eager kindness. Auranthe. So far yourself. But what is this to

me

More than that I am glad? I gratulate you. Conrad. Yes, sister, but it does regard you greatly,

Nearly, momentously,―aye, painfully!

Make me this vow

Auranthe.

Conrad. Albert !

Concerning whom or what?

Auranthe. I would inquire somewhat of him. You had a letter from me touching him ? No treason 'gainst his head in deed or word! Surely you spared him at my earnest prayer? Give me the letter-it should not exist!

Conrad. At one pernicious charge of the enemy I, for a moment-whiles, was prisoner ta'en And rifled,-stuff! the horses' hoofs have mir ced

it!

Auranthe. He is alive?

Conrad. He is! but here make oath

To alienate him from your scheming brain,
Divorce him from your solitary thoughts,

And cloud him in such utter banishment,
That when his person meets again your eye
Your vision shall quite lose its memory,
And wander past him as through vacancy
Auranthe. I'll not be perjured.

Conrad.

No, nor great, nor mighty;

You would not wear a crown, or rule a kingdom. To you it is indifferent?

Auranthe.

What means this?

Conrad. You'll not be perjured! Go to Albert

then,

That camp-mushroom-dishonour of our house.
Go, page his dusty heels upon a march,
Furbish his jingling baldric while he sleeps,
And share his mouldy ration in a siege.
Yet stay, perhaps a charm may call you back,
And make the widening circlets of your eyes
Sparkle with healthy fevers.-The Emperor
Hath given consent that you should marry Ludolph!
Auranthe. Can it be, brother? For a golden

crown

With a queen's awful lips I doubly thank you!
This is to wake in Paradise! Farewell,
Thou clod of yesterday!-'twas not myself!
Not till this moment did I ever feel
My spirit's faculties! I'll flatter you
For this, and be you ever proud of it;
Thou, Jove-like, struck'dst thy forehead,
And from the teeming marrow of thy brain
I spring complete Minerva! But the prince-
His highness Ludolph-where is he?

Conrad.

I know not

When, lackeying my counsel at a beck,
The rebel lords, on bended knees, received
The Emperor's pardon, Ludolph kept aloof,
Sole, in a stiff, fool-hardy, sulky pride;
Yet, for all this, I never saw a father

In such a sickly longing for his son.

We shall soon see him; for the Emperor
He will be here this morning.

Auranthe.

That I heard

Among the midnight rumours from the camp.

Conrad. You give up Albert to me? Auranthe. Harm him not! E'en for his highness Ludolph's sceptry hand, I would not Albert suffer any wrong. Conrad. Have I not laboured, plotted—? Auranthe.

See you spare him :

Nor be pathetic, my kind benefactor!
On all the many bounties of your hand,
'Twas for yourself you laboured—not for me!
Do you not count, when I am queen, to take
Advantage of your chance discoveries

Of my poor secrets, and so hold a rod
Over my life?

Conrad.

Let not this slave-this villain-
See! he comes !

Be cause of feud between us.
Look, woman, look, your Albert is quite safe!
In haste it seems. Now shall I be in the way,
And wish'd with silent curses in my grave,
Or side by side with 'whelmed mariners.

Enter ALBERT.

Albert. Fair on your graces fall this early

morrow!

So it is like to do, without my prayers,

For your right noble names, like favorite tunes, Have fallen full frequent from our Emperor's lips, High commented with smiles.

Auranthe.

Conrad (aside). Noble!

Noble Albert!

Auranthe. Such salutation argues a glad heart

In our prosperity. We thank you, sir.

Albert.

Lady

O, would to Heaven your poor servant
Could do you better service than mere words!
But I have other greeting than mine own,-
From no less man than Otho, who has sent
This ring as pledge of dearest amity;
"Tis chosen, I hear, from Hymen's jewel'ry,
And you will prize it, lady, I doubt not,
Beyond all pleasures past, and all to come.
To you, great duke—

Conrad.

To me! What of me, ha ? Albert. What pleased your grace to say? Conrad.

Albert. You mean not this to me?

Your message, sir!

Sister, this way;

Conrad. For there shall be no "gentle Alberts" now, [Aside. No "sweet Auranthes!"

[Exeunt CONRAD and AURANTHE. Albert (solus). The duke is out of temper; if he knows

More than a brother of a sister ought
I should not quarrel with his peevishness.
Auranthe-Heaven preserve her always fair !—
Is in the heady, proud, ambitious vein ;

I bicker not with her,-bid her farewell;
She has taken flight from me, then let her soar,-
He is a fool who stands at pining gaze!
But for poor Ludolph, ho is food for sorrow :
No levelling bluster of my licensed thoughts,
No military swagger of my mind,

Can smother from myself the wrong I've done

him,-

Without design, indeed,-yet it is so,

And opiate for the conscience have I none !

Exit