University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.

Ground near the Camp.
Enter Ethel, Cornelius, Olave, Officers and Soldiers of Ethel's Regiment.
Eth.
Stand, there!
Cornelius, are these new levies come?

Cor.
They are drawing down now, and still ignorant
Of all that's passing here, but the officers
Are with you quite.

Eth.
The Swede's alert, I hear.

Ol.
Ay, and if these men under Ingelwald
Join with them, we are lost.

Eth.
What think you, gentlemen?
May not this single regiment hold back
Ingelwald's troops, unofficered as they are,
Till the new levies join us?
[Offic. show signs of dissent.
Tut!
Let's hear what the soldiers say.—How say you, friends?
I have seen you fight at odds; will you do it now
In a good cause? will you not, my own soldiers?
And never yet was there a nobler cause
For men to die in, than when treachery,
With confidence of overwhelming power,
Strikes at your land and homes. Will you stand by me
Against the traitorous general and his troops,
Should they attempt to face us? In your needs
I have been kind to you—on battle-field
Have not been backward—and no man can say
I was not just. To-day it is my need,
My dearest need, and those that stand to me
Shall be my friends and brothers—not my soldiers.
I think I see a fervour in your eyes.
Why, battle-field is a great game for the spirit,
Only against vast odds. What, gallant friends!
These officers shake their heads, and say—too dangerous!
You and I will fight it out.

Sol.
To the death! to the death!

Eth.
Stand firm; look where they come.

Enter Robert and Arthur, leading forces.
Robt.
What! is he mad,
To think with these to stop us? Felborg, give way!
Draw back your troops, and make us room to pass,
Or else be cut to pieces.

Eth.
Ingelwald!
Traitors are not strong in heart, though strong in seeming.
There is no man that stands upon this side
Into whose bosom death can thrust a fear.
For God and Right we stand, and fear you not.

Robt.
Cut him down!

[Robert's Soldiers hesitate, and murmur.
Eth.
Hear me, fellow-soldiers!

Robt.
Hear him not, I say!

Sol.
Hear him! hear him! It is the Earl of Felborg.

Sol.
His father was a great man. Hear him!

Sol.
Hear him speak!

Eth.
Who brings you here thus armed, and whither march you?
Do you not know this is rebellion?
Do you not know it, and you that late were soldiers
Take each a traitor's shape? Oh, yes, you know it.
Think, then, before you put your feet too far,
What 'tis you do. Where are your officers?
They have fallen from the traitors you yet cling to.
I am your general. Here are your officers.
Will you be officered with Swedes, your foes?
Ay, and they shall rebuke you with sharp taunts,
Calling you rebels and base mutineers.
And will you not be? raising wicked hands
(As they will stick you in the front of battle)
In shameful execution against those
With whom but yesterday you drank, shook hands,
And who in true companionship have seen
Many rough days with you, and all for what?

Sol.
For Ingelwald!

Robt.
Well shouted, fellow! I'll remember you.

Eth.
Ingelwald is a traitor, and those that join him
Shall have the meed of traitors. Many among you
Have fought under old Felborg's honoured sword;
You may remember how he dealt with you.
Those that were true, he loved them like a father;
Those that were false, they too remember him.
Beware! for I have something of his spirit.
I say, beware! for as the right is mine,
So shall the victory be mine. Look to it!

Sol.
Down with him! Does he threaten?

Sol.
Stand away! No man shall touch him.

[The Soldiers crowd about him; his own Men come forward to the rescue.
Eth.
(to his own Men).
Stand back, you fellows there! stand back, I say!
Obedience is your best love. Draw back again!

Sol.
Speak again, noble Ethel; your dead father
Speaks on your lips.

Sol.
Speak not, upon your life!

Eth.
I am the son of that old Earl of Felborg
That never yet looked danger in the eyes
But he outstared him; and shall I, his son,
Shrink from the pale brows and unhearted arms
Of mine own soldiers turned to traitors? No!
With my own arm I will make good the day
Against a thousand such. And after defeat,
Look for the punishment of mutiny!
Ay, look for it!
For as you know me mild and pitiful
When you deserve it, so, being turned to traitors,
Believe I can put on a mood most terrible
And less compassionate than famine. Look—

Robt.
What, will you hear him?

Eth.
I say peace, Sir Robert!
I will not have you mix your tongue with mine.
Here are some souls that for mine own sake love me,
And more, that for my father's sake will fight
Upon my side. Most, and I value most
Those that abhor the vile name of a traitor
Unto their country, and have too much wit
To raise dishonourable godless arms
Against their dearest duties. Lift your faces up,
You that are true and honourable soldiers—
Not hirelings, not assassins. Draw your swords,
And shout, God and the Right!

Sol.
God and the Right! Long live the Earl of Felborg!

Eth.
What! so many?

Arth.
Away, good brother Robert!
Draw, and strike for it.

Eth.
Ho, there! seize these traitors!

Arth.
This way! this way! Well struck, good friend!
Stand round us
Until we reach our horses.

[Exeunt fighting.
Re-enter Ethel and Olave.
Eth.
They have escaped. Whose regiment went with them?

Ol.
Arthur of Ingelwald's.

Eth.
Away! let the officers
Rejoin their men. Send in Cornelius to me.
We'll fight the Swede now, while the blood's up.
Get me a horse. We will reserve these levies.
Was not Cornelius hurt?

Ol.
Only a scratch.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

The Field.
Ethel armed, save his head; his sword in his hand as from battle. Cornelius, Olave, and Officers, &c. apart.
Eth.
What! against majesty?
Does the great King choose his vice-regents here
So carelessly, that we weak atomies
May judge them, and condemn? I tremble at it.
Shall power exempt? When ministerial kings
Handle iniquity, and stain their brows,
Which should be crystal, who shall punish them?
Heaven.
Ay, but by instruments. What influence is't
That whispers me, “Thou art that instrument”?
O sacred Justice, warrior of God,
Strong brother of the precious weanling Mercy,
Evener of the Fates, thou passionless arbiter,
That with a forceful and unsparing hand
Knittest me up into thy purposes,
Make me not only a base instrument,
And sword of execution; enter me
Into thy secret counsels; clear these eyes,
That are so bitterly possessed with dark,
That only in the blindness of my night
I sometimes seem to touch thy guiding hand,
But see thee never.

[Exit musing.
Ol.
What is't, Cornelius?

Cor.
I think he broods
On his great injuries. The battle over,
His sword unwiped, his reeking hair thus matted
About his brows, his face begrimed with dust,
Plashed with the blood of others—for he took
No touch himself,—unrested, nay, not asking
Particulars of our victory, he falls
Into this musing humour. You may speak to him;
He hears it not.

Off.
I came with the new levies.
How went the battle? It was short at least.

Ol.
Ay, and a perfect rout; the Swedish King
Lies on the field. The Ingelwalds have fled,
Though they fought well.

Cor.
They had good cause for it.

Ol.
Yet we fought better; and for our reward
What shall we reap? cold looks, thin smiles at court,
And the white faces of smooth table-servers
Thrust in before us. We must keep our distance,—
We, but for whose bold lives, set in the breach,
His breath were stopped ere now. Go out and look
How many slain unburied men lie cold,
Brave hearts too, ay and noble ones among them,
And all for what? Why, for a King that is not
Worth the least spirit among them. While we bleed,
He lies in the lap of riot. That breeds plaguy thoughts.

First Off.
Ay, and makes free with our wives too.

Sec. Off.
Curses on him!
I had a daughter. Well, she was a light girl,
And I thank God she is buried.

Ol.
Had you so?
I have a tender loving wife at home,
I think there is no woman kinder, truer,
And yet she fain would go to court to see
What 'tis this King is made of, that so takes
The hearts of all her sex. She says she hates him,
And yet would gladly see him. Trust me, I'll see her
In her coffin first.

Third Off.
D'ye think so, my good captain?
While you are here she may slip there unknown.
Will you trust her, then, good Olave?

Ol.
I'll trust fools
With a taste of my sharp sword, sir!

Fourth Off.
I'll be curst,
I think the women love him for his wickedness.

Cor.
'Tis not the women only;—he taxes us
For his luxurious feasts, and nourishes
Flatterers and devils for his favourites.
Why did our Ethel make us fight for him?

Ol.
Why, let us think 'twas not for him we fought,
But for our country and ourselves against
Foreign invasion, and which not to have done
Were indeed treason.

Cor.
I think Felborg means yet
Something against the King.

Ol.
I would he did;
I would he would depose him, and get up
Into his place.

Off.
That were a king to live under!

Ol.
Ingelwald would well join in such a scheme.

Cor.
What, for another?

Ol.
Ay, for he would see
The best must be put up; and Arthur too.
Well, for my part, if he should aim at it,
My best aid shall not fail.

Cor.
Nor mine.

Officers.
Nor mine.

Ol.
How gallantly he showed i' the field to-day!
Where did he lose his helmet?

Cor.
'Twas the clasp broke.
I would have picked it up, but he stopped not.
“Let it lie,” he cried; “I shall not die to-day.”

Off.
I saw it too; and still in all the battle,
Where there was stand of men or desperate charge
His unarmed face shone like a morning-star
Gleaming among the drifting clouds of war.
They were bold men that met his angry eyes,
And dared the terrible swiftness of his arm;
And yet instinctive mercy clung to his sword,
Over defenceless and disarmed heads
It hung i' the air.

Enter Ethel.
Eth.
Cornelius, come hither. Speak to me;
May I do justice on this King?

Cor.
Do justice!
Surely you know he's dead?

Eth.
Dead!

Cor.
Ay, as dead as
A well-thrust lance sent through a man could make him.
'Tis not yet known who did it.

Eth.
Not the Swede;
I mean our own King.

Cor.
May you punish him?

Eth.
Ay, may I punish him?

Cor.
I think you may;
'Tis easy, if you will.

Eth.
I know I can,
And I conceive I may. Alas! I must.

Cor.
You will do good service to your country by it,
To free it from a most pernicious tyrant.

Eth.
The Lord doth lay his hand upon my head,
And says, Do this. Shall I refuse the Lord,
Who through great toils and tears, heavy affliction,
And trials touching to mortality,
Moulds me unto his mighty purposes?
Shall I, that am his child, tremble at it?
Alas! I tremble at it. Who shall believe me?
Shall I not be alone in all the world?
Oh, if in meditation of this act
I melt with ruth thus, and my flooded eyes
Rain these afflicted tears, what shall I do,
When, in the face of scorn and keen contempt,
These little, but the misconstructing hearts
Of dear-loved friends coldly confirmed against me,
And good men's faces turned away, and even
God's face sometimes (oh, grievous!) hidden in mist,
I must enact what now I do but dream.—
O Thou that shak'st me with these thoughts, put in me
The power to execute them!—I am resolved,
And all my mortal being dedicate
To this great service, that all men may see
The hand of God reaches iniquity.

Enter an Officer hastily.
Off.
Where is the General?

Eth.
Here. What seek you with him?

Off.
Earl Robert, my good lord, and Arthur of Ingelwald
Are brought in prisoners.

Eth.
Prisoners! to me!
Oh, no, great God! not that! oh, add not that!

Off.
Shall they be brought before you? Those that took them
Await your voice.

Eth.
(hurriedly.)
They are traitors taken in arms;
I am the judge and executioner.
There is no doubt, no question, no escape.

Off.
They were not taken without long pursuit
And stout resistance.

Eth.
Idiots! dolts! madmen!
It is the over-forwardness of fools
That spoils the world.—Give me a seat, kind sir.

[He sits.
Cor.
What is it, sir? Ingelwald prisoner?

[To the Officer.
Off.
Ay, both of them.

Ol.
By cross! that's mischief done.

Off.
You look askance at that which should rejoice you.

Cor.
Should we rejoice? What will he do?

Eth.
Cornelius!
Robert of Ingelwald and his brother Arthur
Are taken prisoners; bring them in here.
[Exit Cornelius.
Olave and gentlemen, stand round about me.

Enter Cornelius, with Robert and Arthur brought in guarded.
Rob.
Ethel, the fortune of the day is with you.
Fools, to make compact with the dastard Swede!
You are generous, and therefore I must tell you,
If you should say, go free, it cannot win us
To change our aims.

Arth.
Peace, man! there's death in his face.

Eth.
What is the doom of traitors taken in arms?

Arth.
Death.

Eth.
Death let it be.
I do not see how I can show you mercy.

Arth.
We do not ask it. Yet, until the morning
Grant us reprieve.

Eth.
Until the morning be it;
And make your peace with Heaven.—Cornelius,
Remove them hence, and have them in your charge.

[Exeunt Cornelius, Robert and Arthur guarded.
Eth.
Silent, gentlemen?
Have I not acted well? was it not just?

Ol.
Most just, and yet most bloody.

Eth.
O bloody justice,
That break'st the heart of the world!
They were my only brothers.
[Covers his face.
Leave me, gentlemen,
And draw into the town of Engelborg.—
Good Olave, stay awhile;—and, gentlemen,
Look well to the wounded; be as diligent
As if your children lay with frosted sores
And quenchless thirst, waiting your charity,
On the cold remorseless ground. Spare not for means;
What any man expends I will repay him,
And think he honours me.
[Exeunt Officers.
Let me lean on you;
[To Olave.
I am weary past imagination.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

A Guard-room in Engelbory.
Soldiers drinking.
First Sol.

Humphrey shall sing.

Sec. Sol.

Humphrey'll be damned first!

Third Sol.

Let him be; he'll sing when he's drunk.

First Sol.

Ay, and better when he's damned. The

devil chirps about him like a sparrow about a grain of wheat. Dost thou not fear to be damned, man?

Sec. Sol.

I believe not in damnation.

First Sol.

Then thou art a worse heathen than I took thee for.

Sec. Sol.

Didst thou ever see a man damned?

First Sol.

Never yet.

Sec. Sol.

On whose word dost thou believe it, then?

First Sol.

On the word of the clergy.

Sec. Sol.

Good! Didst thou ever hear one of the clergy say that he — id est the clericus — should be damned?

First Sol.

Never.

Sec. Sol.

Then thou that believest the clergy, believest they shall not be damned. What then? Why this. Shall a monk be saved, and a soldier be damned? Quod est absurdum, which is absurd. Ergo, Q. E. D., quod est demonstrandum.

First Sol.

I am stranded indeed.

Sec. Sol.

Anglice, which was to be proven. Videlicet, a soldier shall be saved. Come, fill me a cup of wine.

Third Sol.

When wert thou at the university, Humphrey?

Sec. Sol.

In the year when Noah encountered the dragon, which being interpreted by Scripture history, is—never.

Third Sol.

Where gott'st thou thy learning, then?

Sec. Sol.

My mother ate lollipops wrapt in the

Latin grammar, which infected her milk, whereby I sucked in learning.—Drink, you fools. Come, let one sing.

Fourth Sol.

I'll sing you a song.

Sec. Sol.

Away! thou hast a little piping voice like a sickly weasel; I had as lief hear a grasshopper. We'll none of it. It turns the wine sour on the stomach.

Third Sol.

“Where horny Sigfrid handled—”

Sec. Sol.

Stop him! appease him! quiet him! Why, man, are our ears anvils, that thou hammerest them thus? If thou must needs sing, go out to sea a quarter of a mile or so, and sing to them on shore, and let them see that the wind be against thee.

First Sol.

Edmund shall sing.

Sec. Sol.

Oh, he sings beastly out of tune. Nay, if you will have it, I'll sing myself; and do thou with the little tiny voice sing with a helmet over thy face, and let him with the big horrid voice sing from under a cushion and so keep chorus.

Enter Ethel in a cloak, with a lantern.
Eth.
No rioting, knaves.
Sing if you will, but no drunkenness.
Who guards the prisoners?

Sec. Sol.
Two steady men within, sir.

Eth.
Show me the room, one of you.

[One goes out with Ethel.
Sec. Sol.
There goes a fellow now. Whewgh!

Re-enter Ethel.
Eth.
Who are they that took these gentlemen prisoners?
Why do you look at one another?

Sec. Sol.
They heard you called them idiots, and chafed at them.

Eth.
If I said so, I was not temperate;
They have done good service. Let them come to me,
And look to be rewarded.

[Exit.
First Sol.

I am glad of this. I thought it was a lie that he was angry with poor fellows for doing their best.

Third Sol.

Ay, and it was a tough job they had of it too. But what means he now by going in to them? Will he let them go free?

Sec. Sol.

Look you, this he means. Do you know tomorrow we march against the King, our own King?

Sols.

Against the King!

Sec. Sol.

Ay, he shall be deposed, and his head chopt off: so say I that know. And who shall be king

in his stead? Our friend in the cloak, I take it. Ergo, this will he do. He will in, and say, “Robert, thou beast, arise!”—for Robert, mind you, shall be asleep, and Arthur shall be awake. Then shall he say, “Will you help me to put the crown on this head?” and he shall tap his own.

Third Sol.

Then will they say yes?

Sec. Sol.

Will you hear it? or will you tell it? If you know it, tell it. I say, they shall not say yes; but tell it you.

Sols.

Tell us you, Humphrey, what they shall say.

Sec. Sol.

Let him hold his tongue, then. They will say, “No;” or, they will say, “Ay, we will.” If they say no, then he saith, “Die and be” what I believe not: for he believeth it firmly. If they say, “Ay,” he shall say, “Cut and run;” and then shall they cut and run, but first shall our friend in the cloak have told the two fellows on guard they are not wanted, and bid them come drink with us.

First Sol.

And what shall fall to them when their prisoners escape?

Sec. Sol.

What, the guard? Oh, they shall be hung by Cornelius, look you, for deserting their post; and their story of Felborg coming in will be a monstrous and inconceivable lie; and we, mind you, we shall have been very drunk, and mistaken the devilknows-who in a cloak for the Earl of Felborg. For my part, I shall have been so drunk, I shall not have

seen any body at all, and I would have you all drunk to the same degree. Drink about.

First Sol.

The General will play no such scurvy tricks. If he mean to let them free, he will bring them out through the middle of us. I can tell you the General loves fair play; ay, and will see it too. Dost thou remember, man, when we were had up on a false charge of plundering after proclamation — how he that is in prison there for joining the Swede would have hung us out of hand, and how Felborg made him take time, and how he ferreted and laboured and toiled till he got at the truth of it?

Third Sol.

Ay, ay.

Fourth Sol.

I remember this much of him, when I was left for dead in the field, that if he should bid me cut my throat, ay, or another man's for the matter of that, look you, I would do it and never wink.

Sec. Sol.

Ay, as far as that goes, I too would do what he bid me; for a man would look queer that should disobey him. Let him say to me in his way, “Humphrey, thy father's head tomorrow!” Lord, I should bring it him, like John the Baptist's, on a battlehorse.

Third Sol.

Why on a battle-horse, Humphrey?

Sec. Sol.

Nay, I know not; but so it is written.

Third Sol.

A charger, man; it is written a charger.

Sec. Sol.

And if a charger be not a battle-horse, thou art not an ass, which is absurd. Q.E.D., which was to be proven. Ergo, thou art an ass.

Third Sol.

Thy father would think thy obedience over-exquisite.

Sec. Sol.

Tush; I would convince him. I would say, Pater reverendissime, which is, God bless you, father. Unto different men are different dispensations; to dead men and robins worms, and to live men meat and raiment,—the godly preach, and others have their infirmities.

First Sol.

This will convince us that thou art drunk, but scarcely thy father to lend thee his head for ever so short a while.

Sec. Sol.

Nay, but look you, the General would not bid me do it without good reason; and I would tell him the reason.

First Sol.

And that would convince him?

Sec. Sol.

That and the other would convince him, which is in Latin. I know not what it is in Latin.

Third Sol.

But is't good truth that we march against the King?

Sec. Sol.

Ay, is it.

First Sol.

I thought he was not born so leadenspirited as to endure his injuries.

Third Sol.

And yet he wears an even face.

Fifth Sol.

An even face, my God, but such a sad one!

Sec. Sol.

Loquitur, he speaketh; try again, Silence.

Fifth Sol.

'Tis a strange temper; I can tell you that. I have seen him passionate, too, with a peevish drummer lad that struck an innocent child for begging

bread. I would not have you anger him. Over his face came night, and lightning out of's eyes; I would have eaten myself to be out of his way.

Third Sol.

What did he do?

Fifth Sol.
He stood a moment; then with mild eyes,
But steadfast, that I trembled, and calm voice
Remonstrating, but oh, the music of it!
He spoke to me; with one arm, like a father
He lifted to his breast the naked babe:
“What, fellow!” said he, “do you strike these helpless ones?
Think of it, boy!” his hand laid on my head.
The action, the endearment, the white child
Weeping in's breast,—oh, if a man had seen it,
He would have thought that Charity and Mercy,
Not two, but one, had left their homes in heaven,
And in a soldier's coat went to the wars.
To me he seemed an angel; my repentance
Rained itself down in tears.

Sec. Sol.

Is that the lad that goes about with you?

Fifth Sol.

Ay, the same child. God knows he shall not want while I eat bread.

Third Sol.

You served Felborg?

Fifth Sol.

I was his body servant after that. You say you love him; I wonder if the heart of any other holds him as dear as I do.

First Sol.

What's this about the Lady Violenzia? Is't true they ravished her at court?

Fourth Sol.

She was naught.

Fifth Sol.

You lie!

Third Sol.

By all the fiends in hell! are you mad to die? I would not have her name in my mouth in the same continent with yonder cloak—not for gold pieces. Let him hear you!

Fourth Sol.

I'll in and sleep.

Third Sol.

There's a big fire in the anteroom: get another bottle, and Humphrey shall finish his song.

First Sol.

Ay, he's singing drunk.

Sec. Sol.

I am as drunk as an owl; which is, to be sapiently intoxicated. Come away.

Third Sol.

How those dogs of Swedes ran today! [Exeunt.

Scene IV.

A Room.
Robert and Arthur asleep. Enter Ethel in his cloak, bearing a light.
Eth.
They are asleep;—asleep! and by tomorrow
They will have looked into the mystery,
And seen the other side of awful death.
O me! what men or immaterial shapes
Walk by the rivers of that unseen shore?
What fates, what accidents, what circumstance,
Await the wasted and time-wearied ghost,
That, melted from impediments of earth,
Lifts the black curtain up of monstrous night,
And finds itself—why do I tremble at it?
What is't to me, that I should vex my soul
In dim forebodings of what is to be,
For them, or me, or any other man?
It is enough I know, and ache to know,
What on this bridge of time I have to do,
Not overlook the abysm, till my head fail.
What, can they sleep like new-baptized infants,
Who have sinned deeply? Yet be charitable;
That which in me had been a crime unspeakable,
Their heady and fierce natures could not consider.
I'll think in part they erred; yet they must die for it,
And I must execute.—Brothers, awake!
Brothers, I come to touch your dear loved hands
And be at peace with you before you die.
Though in the world I wear a hateful face
And brow of judgment, I may forget them here.
Repent your sin; forgive and pity me,
That the sad fates, which no man may gainsay,
Have put me to this duty.

Arth.
Why, will you murder us?

Eth.
Call it not murder; be more merciful.
Say you have not deserved it; make that clear,
You shall walk free as air.

Arth.
We have deserved it
As the world's judgments go, but not from you.

Eth.
Oh, how can I escape? Do you not know
I must do that which, howsoe'er I tread,
The world shall wonder at, and scarce believe.
Reverence and loyalty shall look pale to see me
Put forth my hand into their sanctuary,
And from beneath the shelter of a crown,
Under whose sacred circle sits a king,
Pluck forth the sheltered wrong, and punish it;
Ay, in the person of anointed majesty.

Robt.
By Heaven, we'll help you in it! Let us go free!

Eth.
Too late, too late.

Robt.
When we are dead, indeed,
Then it will be too late.

Eth.
It was too late,
When first you raised your swords against the right;
Then it became too late.

Robt.
Is this our Ethel?
That he was true and loving, this we knew,
But never pitiless.

Eth.
I am that Ethel,
On whom the rigorous powers lay such stern hands,
That of my dearest duties they make fires
To burn my friends. She that makes heaven terrible,
Yet only trustworthy, immaculate Justice,
Who dares not overlook unpurged offences,
Hath chosen me to be her officer;
And I, who am a man and son of God,
Have dared to undertake the high commission.
Can I, then, tamper with her least decree?
Can I,—
Who tread the mixed and intricate confines
Of punishment and personal revenge,
And in the balance of my private bosom
Have dared to weigh delinquencies of kings,—
Can I play fast and loose, wink with one eye,
And when disorder comes within my scope,
Because it is my kinsmen suffer it,
Let the soft witch Affection sway my acts,
And melt the life of Conscience?

Arth.
It is enough;
Our deaths more than our lives are serviceable.
You'll not forgive that we disdained your counsel,
And dared to fight against you.

Eth.
Nay, but stay;
You are not innocent that speak thus with me,
Nor against me have sinned; I have no choice
To say go free. Taken in arms you were,
Against your country, leagued with foreign foes;
And, set aside the task I have in hand,
My duty is as open as the day;
I cannot pardon traitors.

Arth.
Ay, so call us;
And when you march against your King tomorrow,
You are no traitor!

Eth.
Oh, the difference!
Arthur, play not the casuist with me;
That which we feel down in our heart's deep centre,
Let us not mess with words. The time is awful;
I neither can forego your punishment
Nor quench the love I bear you. Look upon me.

Arth.
Nay, I care not.

Eth.
Be patient with me, brothers!
Is it so much to die? I think it is not.
Oh, pity me the greatness of my woe,
Which, like the central subterranean fire,
Burns in my breast, and not abides the day.
Your sister, oh!

Arth.
Doth she yet live?

Eth.
Ay, I thank God she doth.

Arth.
Dost thou thank God for that? Where is she now?

Eth.
Now here in Engelborg.

Robt.
In Engelborg!
Before I die—

Arth.
Hush, Robert! on your life!

Eth.
What is it, Robert?

Arth.
Robert!

Robt.
Well, no matter.
This is the end of a most noble house.

Eth.
Indeed, I pity you; give me your hands.

Arth.
Sir, if you love us, cease to trouble us;
You are that Earl of Felborg we thought honourable,
That Ethel whom we loved—

Eth.
Oh, love me still!

Arth.
And now you are, I know not what, a priest,
If you be true, or madman; and, if you be not,
The murderer of your brothers. Fare you well,
And let us sleep.

Eth.
Now could I break my heart,
And with the baby-droppings of a boy
Make your proud spirits melt. Oh, I have loved you,
And do, beyond my utterance; for, indeed,
I ever was cold-tongued, and therefore I think
No man in all the world did ever love me.

Robt.
Yea, that did I, and dearly.

Eth.
Didst thou, Robert?
Ah now, then, when I kneel to thee, forgive me,
And think me not a brother, but a sword
In the hand of Justice. Had it been your lot
To have slain me—as, oh, rejoice it is not—
I would have thanked, not cursed you.

Arth.
Oh, have done!
Do you come here to play the hypocrite?

Eth.
I do not, Arthur; by my soul, I do not!
Now I forget myself to kneel to you,
For you are stubborn and impenitent,
And will not see the greatness of your sin.
Farewell, I never more shall see your faces;
But oh, repent, repent before you die!

[Exit.
Arth.
Now, Robert—

Robt.
I was sleeping.

Arth.
So was not I,
For I have sent for young Cornelius,
And feared he might arrive ere Felborg went.

Robt.
Why should he waken me? Is it not cold?
I wonder shall we feel it in our graves.
What time of night is that? What, ten? no more.
I would tonight, and half tomorrow too,
Had been brushed off the dial; the clocks then
May strike what hours they will, and never trouble us.

Arth.
Listen to me.

Robt.
I will not listen to you.
For God's sake, let's have done with talk at last.
You are a talker, and a great adviser,
And you it was that brought us to this pass.
Why did you join those ever-damned Swedes?
You spoiled the game my boldness might have won.
Oh, I could eat my heart out of my breast!
The King that hears of it shall sweetly smile,
His arm about my sister. Oh, this Ethel!

Arth.
That which we did, we did it for the best,
And were't to do again, I would not change:
These idle lamentations are mere air;
The past is done, there leave it. Have you a spirit
To meddle with the future, and wash out
The golden grains of hope there?

Robt.
Bah, what hope?

Arth.
I trust Cornelius has not met with Ethel;
He stays too long.

Robt.
What will you do with him?

Arth.
This will I make him do. Give us our swords,
Open these doors, and let us walk as free
As morning out of night.

Robt.
Can you do this?

Arth.
I think I can, for he is weak and changing,
Borrowing his mood, like a contagious fever,
From him who touched him last. Trust me, we'll find
A way to move him to it.

Robt.
What! do you think
Tomorrow we shall breathe the air of heaven,
And not lie under ground? I laugh at it,
And am a man again. Then to the court;
We'll trust our own arms, Arthur.

Arth.
Ay, but stay!

Robt.
By Heaven, a little while ago it seemed
A dreadful thing to die; by how much more
Doth it now seem a glorious thing to live!
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!
We'll bathe in morning, and the mounting sun,
That feared to have beheld us pale and cold,
Shall laugh to see us under open sky,
Feeding on light and blown by early winds.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!

Arth.
Be patient yet awhile;
There's more to do.

Robt.
What is't?

Arth.
Violenzia.

Robt.
What dreadful thought possesses you?

Arth.
Must she live?

Robt.
I am a clod again. What! murder her?
And yet I do not see how she can live.

Arth.
To be a standing index of our shame;
A breathing monument, drawing men's eyes
To gaze on our disgrace. No, she must die;
Blood washes clean, at least. Nay, in mere pity
'Twere best to kill her.

Robt.
Oh, the sadness of it!
Would you had never spoke to me of freedom!
Would I were dead, and this were not to do!

Arth.
A harlot of our house!

Robt.
Shut, shut your lips.
She dies, and there's an end on 't.

Enter Cornelius.
Arth.
Ha, Cornelius!
Why did you stay so long? have you met Ethel?

Cor.
I have not seen him. He was here with you?

Arth.
Ay, not a moment since. Quick, good Cornelius!

Cor.
What would you have with me?

Arth.
We would be free!
And we would have you open these our doors;
See us safe through your guards; give us our swords;
And put our horses under us.

Cor.
Is this all?
Give you good night, then.

Arth.
Be not mad, Cornelius!
Your folly will mar all, and kill us indeed.
You do not think Ethel intends our death?

Cor.
He acts it well, then.

Arth.
Palpably he does.
Because the thing was open, and we taken
In the very act, he needs must sentence us;
But to suppose he left no loophole for us,
Would be to think he'd murder us. Are you so dull?
Why did he visit us now, but to say this?
Why did he give us into your charge, man,
On whom he might rely to guess his meaning,
And do it without questioning?

Cor.
By my faith,
He gave no hint of this.

Arth.
A hint, Cornelius!
What would you have? Will you go speak to him,
And drive him by plain questioning to deny it?
Do it, and murder us. By holy cross,
It makes me mad that we must lose our lives
Because this man is witless!

Robt.
Nay, good Arthur,
Be not so hot; he knew not Ethel's meaning;
He cannot miss it now. By mass, Cornelius,
'Twas well we sent for you; you had not come else.

Cor.
Nay, I remember when you first were taken
He groaned at it, and cursed at them which took you.

Arth.
Ay, and controlled himself before we came,
And so condemned us; did he not? Why, think!
Would he so coldly have passed sentence on us,
And thought it carried death?

Cor.
Hardly, I think.

Arth.
Nay, if you lack the heart to venture out,
Back to your bed. He'll frown on you tomorrow,
And you would take't for earnest. Fie, Cornelius!

Cor.
I'll move the guard away, and send you swords.

Arth.
And have us horses ready. And, Cornelius,
Show us our sister's lodging; we would speak to her
Before we go.

Cor.
Without there! open the door!—
I'll send to you straightway. Avoid these drinkers.
I am glad to serve you in it.

[Exit.
Robt.
By Heaven, it's done!
Let's flee at once!

Arth.
No, no; he sends us swords,
Without which we are nothing. Listen to them.

[Soldiers heard singing.
Enter Soldier with swords.
Sol.
Look you, some of us will be hung for this.

Arth.
Do you think so, fellow? Oh, no.

Sol.

Ay, you may laugh at it; but I must obey Cornelius, though I see I shall hang for it. That's my duty, and the gallows will be my payment.

Arth.
Well, lead on, fellow.

Robt.
Will he not hang Cornelius?

Arth.
Like enough

[Exeunt.

Scene V.

Ethel's Quarters in Engelborg.
A Council of Officers.
Ethel, Olave, Cornelius, and Officers.
Eth.
Speak, gentlemen.
Your duty lies not in your neighbour's eyes;
Search your own breasts; he that falls off from me,
And does it simply from his soul's conviction,
I will believe he is as true a man,
As tender of the right, and as courageous,
As those who most applaud me;
He that hangs doubtful,
Oh, let him think, before he turns away,
Unredressed wrong grows rich in his defection,
And mighty Justice like a beggar stands,
Craving his alms. Who speaks? Who goes with me?

[The Officers whisper together.
Old Capt.
My lord, we are plain men; deal plainly with us;
Tell us in bold words you desire the crown,
We'll aid you faithfully.

Sec. Capt.
Ay, do; you wrong us,
To muffle up your secret purposes
In these fine words.

Third Capt.
Be open with us, sir;
Many are here that love you.

Eth.
In dear truth,
And as I am a soldier and a gentleman,
I have no private end. Let no man go with me
That hopes to win a gain by my advancement.

Third Capt.
He will not trust us.

Sec. Capt.
Tell us, General,
Will you set free the Earls of Ingelwald?

Eth.
I will not free the Earls of Ingelwald.

Sec. Capt.
Nor I, then, will not countenance a man
Who scruples not in death of dearest friends
To root the ambitious ends he mis-styles virtue.
Go to, you fair-faced lord, we are not children!

Eth.
Be it so;
Some of you present judge me worthier.
Yet think not by your hanging back to move me
From my first course—nor by worst opposition.
If every man should turn his back on me,
Unto the rough breast of the common soldier
Will I appeal. Judge as you will of me,
And send me word how you will deal with me.
Oh, that a man might take sincerity
Out of his breast, and lay 't before your eyes!—
Cornelius, take my place here.

[Exit.
Ol.
Let me speak:
I tell you, he is made of simple faith,
And what he says he means.

Cor.
Tush! not a whit.

Ol.
What, do you not believe it?

Cor.
I? oh, yes.

Fourth Capt.
Cornelius knows his mind; let's hear Cornelius.

Cor.
Nay, gentlemen, so much I cannot say;
And what close policy lies in these masked speeches
I guess not; only these two things I know,—
Unto his friends was Felborg never false,
Nor ever knew the vice ingratitude;
His bounty flows as liberal as water
To his least servitor. And for those gentlemen
That fear for the two noble Ingelwalds,
Let them not trust me if he means them harm.
He'll not acquit them; is't not possible
Their doors may be ill-guarded?

Ol.
Now, by Heaven,
You wrong him wickedly, Cornelius!
And though their love did lie about his soul,
He will not spare them.

Sec. Capt.
Look to yourselves, gentlemen.
Fidelity, long service, true attachment,
Weigh not a grain against his fantasy,
Nor earn you any liberty.

Ol.
Not to be traitors!

Sec. Capt.
Who dares to talk of traitors? All are not such
A rambling fancy styles so. Ha!

Cor.
Come, come;
He's not so strict. Maybe I should not name it,—
They have found open doors!

Ol.
Who? by whose means?
It's false! most false!

Cor.
What will you wager on it?

Ol.
My life.

Cor.
Your purse?

Ol.
Ay, all I'm worth i' the world.

Enter Soldier.
Sol.
My lord! the General, where's the General?

Cor.
Your news, fellow? your news?

Sol.
Away! they are loose!
I saw them o' horseback. Where's the General?

[Exit.
Cor.
Ha! ha! ha!

Ol.
If this be true, and with his cognisance,
Farewell, fair faith; I'll break my sword and leave him.

Enter two Soldiers.
Sol.
The Ingelwalds have escaped! The Earl of Felborg
Calls out aloud for you.

Ol.
For me?

[Exeunt Olave and Soldiers.
Cor.
Now, sirs,
Will any man refuse to go with us?

Third Capt.
Humph, what he says is true; the men will go;
No man can doubt that he will gain his end.
I ride, for one.

Sec. Capt.
And I.

Fourth Capt.
Would he were honester!
There was a time he could not hide his meaning.
We must go on with him.

Fifth Capt.
Thus much for me,
Where Felborg leads, I'll follow.

Sixth Capt.
Do! to hell.
Well, I'll make one with you.

Cor.
Thanks, gentlemen;
And when his head lies in the golden hoop,
Power will enrich his gratitude.

Old Capt.
For me,
I pin my faith with Olave, and believe
He nothing seeks himself.

Cor.
But will you join us?

Old Capt.
Ethel I'll join; not you, nor any such.

Cor.
No man says nay; I'll tell the General so.
Break up; we shall be moving with the morning.

[Exeunt all save two Captains.
First Capt.
You are not one of them?

Sec. Capt.
I hang. 'Tis monstrous odds
If the King can stand against him.

First Capt.
If he should, though?

Sec. Capt.
Let's send him a messenger and give him warning;
If Felborg fail, that might make peace for us.

First Capt.
And stay ourselves?

Sec. Capt.
Why, it's the likelier side.

First Capt.
Unless his heart should fail. Well, we must risk it.

[Exeunt.

Scene VI.

An Anteroom to Violenzia's Bedchamber. Dark.
Enter Robert and Arthur, with their swords drawn.
Arth.
Hist!
She sleeps within there.

Robt.
Let me breathe a moment;
What we are doing is not known in heaven yet;
The night is balmy fair, and the stars shine.

Arth.
Knock at the door.

Robt.
Oh, peace! listen awhile.

Arth.
No creature moves.

Robt.
Silence is audible,
And buzzes in mine ears. Hark where she comes!
Enter Violenzia in a white undress, bearing a light.
O frightful apparition! this is her ghost.

Vio.
My brothers!

Robt.
Hark! it speaks! O dreadful thing!

Vio.
Why do you stand with drawn swords and white faces,
Like wintry ghosts set in the gleaming moon?
You will not murder me? Help! help!

Arth.
(threatening her with his sword.)
Be still!
Open your lips again only to breathe,
I'll—

Vio.
I will not cry again, indeed I will not.
Why are you come? Have mercy! Why will you kill me?

Arth.
What boots the reason? you must die tonight.

Vio.
Oh, not tonight! good Robert, not tonight!
Kind Arthur, courteous Arthur, not tonight!

Arth.
This hour, this moment.

Vio.
Oh, a moment spare me!
What have I done?

Arth.
What did the Roman matron
When the base tyrant shamed her? Ha! are you noble?

Vio.
Where's Ethel, who did tell me that to dream of it
Was sin beyond redemption. He speaks truth.

Arth.
He is the damned'st slave!

Vio.
O bitter villains!
When you were traitors merely, I wept for you
More tears than you were worth; now I perceive
You are but hardened ruffians. Well, despatch.
I do not fear to look on death. O brothers!
When the great King sits on his awful throne,
What will you plead? All the vast judgment-crowd
Shall shrink when they behold your crimson hands,
Wet with a sister's blood, held up for mercy
In vain, as mine are now.

Arth.
Prepare yourself.

Vio.
Let me retire into my chamber here,
And pray before I die; so much your rage
May yet grant to a sister.

Arth.
Well, be swift.
You will not seek to escape?

Vio.
Oh, no! I will not.
God pity me! for I am innocent.

[Exit.
Robt.
God pity me! she said, God pity me!
Sweet Arthur, I have loved you tenderly
Since we were nothing higher than our swords,
And of my joys made common harvest with you,
And carried half your sorrows. Once, remember it,
When the fierce bear had got you in his gripe,
I thrust my arm into the monster's jaws
And stabbed him with my knife. This is the mark;
I swear, this is the mark.

Arth.
Well I remember it.

Robt.
Do you indeed? And many a time in battle
I have stepped in between an imminent sword
And your dear life. Do you remember this too?
Why, then, I see you have a grateful heart,
And kind affection hath her mood in you.
Now, then, repay the good that I have done you
More than a thousandfold told thousand times.
Let me lie here upon the earless earth,
And torture up my eyes, and seal my hearing,
And go you in alone and do the deed.
Joy of my soul, sweet Arthur, will you not?
She loved me most. Christ! I remember her
A little earnest child, whose secret lips
Would steal to kiss my hand. I cannot do it! [Throwing himself on the ground.
[Exit Arthur into the inner room.


Robt.
He is gone in to do it. O just God!
What torments are laid up for us hereafter!
Hark! she will cry soon.—Will it never come?
Let him be quick, not cruel. Re-enter Arthur.

Is she dead?
O damned murderer!

Arth.
Let's fly from hence.

Robt.
Murderers and fratricides! The damned will start,
When we with bloody swords break into hell!

Arth.
Rise up, I say!

Robt.
My ears drank up her voice
When she did cry for mercy, yet I heard it not.
There is no devil in the waste of hell
But would have melted when she cried for mercy.

Arth.
For God's sake, come away!

[Pulls him; Robert strikes him.
Robt.
Stand off, you devil!
I am not damned yet.

Arth.
Is he mad indeed?
Hush! I hear footsteps in the corridor.
Be still as death.

[Robert rises; they listen.
Robt.
Ay, death is still indeed.

Arth.
Hark! they draw near; no whisper!

[They listen.
Robt.
Oh, have mercy!
She moves in the inner room.

[Knocking.
Ethel.
(outside.)
Who speaks within there?

Arth.
Be ready for a rush.

Eth.
Violenzia!

Robt.
Hark! she will answer. I can bear no more.
[Knocking.
Come in, I say. Why do you beat the door?
Come in, and see two pale-faced fratricides
Shaking their palsied swords.

Enter Ethel and Soldiers; they rush on Robert and Arthur, and secure them.
Eth.
O bloody-hearted brothers! what have you done?

[Ethel goes in, and returns with the body of Violenzia, which he lays on the stage, and stands looking at it.
Robt.
Let me look on her.
O God! that this thing were to do again!

Ol.
(to Arth..
This monster! Do you not repent?

Arth.
Repent!
Let those that have let opportunity
Slip through their hands repent; I cannot do it.

Ol.
Cold-hearted wretch!

Arth.
Ay, cold. And yet I'll tell thee,
Could I have stretched my arm into the past,
And undone that thing which hath once been done,
She should have lived a spotless maid again,—
Ay, though my soul were made a thousand souls,
And each one damned for ever. Well, what matter?

Eth.
Take them away to present execution,
And bring back word to me when they are dead.

Arth.
Lean on me, Robert.

Robt.
Pah! you smell of blood.

Arth.
Well! well! well!

First Sol.
He cared but little for her.

Sec. Sol.
Not a whit.

[Exeunt Olave and Soldiers conducting Robert and Arthur.
Eth.
He did not care for her! no, not a whit!
I did not love thee, Violenzia!
Be it so! be it so! be it so!
I can bear it—I can bear it—I can bear it.
Being dead, I now may kiss thee, may I not?
Cold angel, the last time I touched those lips—
Have done! Look down, you heavenly arbitrators;
Be not harsh with me, if my heart should burst
Because a girl is dead. Nay, I can bear it.
I do not fling myself upon the ground,
And drown the thirsty earth with rainy tears;
I do not tear my hair, or beat my breast,
Or heave my labouring heart from its foundations.
I can be patient. See, my God, she bleeds!
Is there no more to bear! Oh, no, not thus.
I do not tax, high Heaven, thy great designs,
No, nor abate my faith a single jot.
Why, this is mercy; do I cavil at it?
She is in heaven by this, where angels flatter her,
And soothe her with white hands; I would not have her
Alive for all the world. Oh, she is dead!
Her beauty was the rapture of my eye,
And her affection was the corner-stone
Of all my reared existence. That was long ago;
Chaste marriage-joys, the faces of young children,
And all the sweet felicities of home—
These are old dreams, and long since vanished.
Soul-softening memory, fly! Take up, O heart!
Peace is for angels, and we mortal labourers
Must die in harness; I am content, great Father,
And kiss thy tender hand.
Smil'st thou, pale innocent? Was death so kind to thee,
That came in guise so barbarous? Come, dear burden,
I must not leave thee here.

[Exit, bearing Violenzia into the inner room.

Scene VII.

Ethel's Quarters in Engelborg.
Ethel. Soldiers bringing in the Guard who had Robert and Arthur in charge.
Eth.
Are these the men that had the care of them?
I saw thee at the door. Is this the other?
By your gross negligence they have escaped,
And done foul murder in the dead of night.
Away with them! Yet stay! speak, if you will.

First Gu.
Nay, I care not to speak, 'twill not be believed.

Eth.
Yet I'll not hang them. What, after battlefield,
Because reluctant overstrained nature
Conquered the struggling will? Which one of us
But every day sleeps in his mortal charge,
And lets swift time with noiseless key slip in
And ravish opportunity? Yet I must punish them,
Lest this quick vice of ease become contagious.—
Fellows, I give you back your lives.

First Gu.
Look, General,

I'd have you know we are innocent in this. You may hang us or pardon us as you will, I care not. I obeyed orders, and there's an end on it.

Eth.

Orders? from whom? what orders?

First Gu.

Why, straightforward orders to give them swords, and find them horses, and let them go. Nay, you'll not believe it.

Sec. Gu.

Cornelius took me from my post.

First Gu.

Ay, look you, a man must obey orders.

Eth.

Cornelius!

First Gu.

Yonder he comes to forswear it. Hang us or drum us out, it's all one. Do it and never question, that's your rule, and then hang us for it.—Cheer up, comrade!

Enter Cornelius.
Eth.
He comes in smiling! By the immortal saints,
I think men mock at me. Cornelius,
Have you yet heard the Ingelwalds are broke loose?
These men, about to pay the penalty,
Charge you that you knew of it. What is this?

Cor.
Indeed!

Eth.
Indeed me no indeeds, sir! answer me!
I am not in my pleasant mood. Learn, too,
That these fell traitors have put murderers,
A new addition, to their names. D' you shrink?
Their sister's blood cries to the breaking day,
And blisters the pale stars.

Cor.
This is not so!

Eth.
I say it is. Even now their wretched bodies
Render their forfeited breaths.

Cor.
Cruel and treacherous!
They have betrayed me to my death. Hark, Ethel!

Eth.
Stand back! speak out! Does no man know me yet,
To think I will play off and on with them,
And make desert lackey the heels of favour?
These men stand yet in bonds; if by your order
The doors were opened, say it at once; each moment
Stamps your shame deeper.

Cor.
It was I that did it.

Eth.
Let them go free?

Cor.
Nor did I seek to hide it.

Eth.
Cornelius, I had rather seen you dead
Than thus betray your trust.—Stand round him, there.

Cor.
Hear, yet a moment hear me. They deceived me
By lying semblances and false reports,
Feigning it was your will they should go free,
And that you but condemned them for a show,
They made great seeming proof, and my confusion
Could not withstand their haste. Oh, pardon me,
Not for my fault, but that I could imagine
You could do thus.

Eth.
Could you believe it of me?
O bitter day! O bitter, bitter day!
Who shall be true to me, who shall believe me?

Cor.
I, Ethel! Kill me for my grievous error,
And dying think me true. It was my weakness
That made me judge you falsely by myself,
And not my lack of love; I was too shallow
To fathom your nobility. Let me die.

Eth.
Have I done well to take this thing in hand,
And put myself into the judgment-seat?
Have I been treacherous, base, and given to lies,
That my close-bosomed friends thus construe me?
That action wherein if I trod aright
Over the ploughshares of my dearest affections,
I thought would unseal all men's eyes, and make them
Confess my honesty, is turned against me,
And made a trick and meanness. Yet have courage.
When it is ended, and the cold earth lies
On this o'erburdened bosom, they will believe;
Till then I'll fight it out alone.—Cornelius,
As I had given these poor men their lives,
And as it was your weakness more than guilt,
I spare your life. Lay down your office, though,
And tokens of command; no more a soldier.—
Take off his sword.

Cor.
Take it; I have deserved it.
I dare not touch your hand. O Earl of Felborg,
Some time when I have wiped away this blot
Call me your friend again.

Eth.
Farewell, Cornelius;
[Exit Cornelius.
And with you go the last of all I loved.

Enter Olave.
Ol.
The traitors are despatched, my lord.

Eth.
So be it.
Violenzia sleeps. Alone on the broad earth.

Ol.
Your officers and soldiers love you dearly.

Eth.
I thank you very heartily.—Is it strange
That our diviner impulses, great thoughts,
And all the highest holiest life of the soul,
Should yearn for mortal sympathy and not find it,
No, not in women,—nay, not dare to ask for't?

Ol.
What is it you say, my lord?

Eth.
Do you not see,
It is the exceeding goodness of our God,
To bend our love unto his Father's breast,
And press our heads to his bosom? We are greater
As children than as brothers.

Ol.
Now he dreams again:
But they are dreams which I begin to think
Nobler than all I know. Is it possible
A man should be both saint and soldier?

Eth.
What is it to me, then, that no eye that meets mine
Shines with a kindred light; that should I speak
That which burns in me, oh, no tongue so strange
As my unfeigned utterance; that my acts, even,
Beget bewilderment, and are construed
Clean from their purposes? This should not trouble me,
Nor mortal solitude oppress my spirit:
It is for me to walk my single road;
There is in heaven a holy sympathiser
Shall smile to find me faithful. The time flies
Wherein I should be active; what's the hour?

Ol.
Early, my lord.

Eth.
What, do the soldiers sleep yet?

Ol.
Oh, no, my lord; the last reveillé sounded
An hour ago.

Eth.
Then they are on the march.

Ol.
In part they are.

Eth.
Christian of Lodenstern
Is a good officer and an honest man;
Have you not marked it?

Ol.
He is very worthy.

Eth.
Cornelius it was who broke his trust,
And set the prisoners free; he is disgraced.

Ol.
I was very sad to learn it.

Eth.
So was I.
Christian of Lodenstern shall have his place,
And stay here with the garrison.

Ol.
Do you think so?
He is a kinsman of the King's.

Eth.
What matter?
You say he is efficient. Send him to me
At my own lodging; so far I'll walk with you.

[Exeunt.