Fred. But where is it? None yet Have found it out. Ulrick. You mean, a heart to love? Fred. If not such a heart, as well no heart at all! There's naught without but with her sex consists, Prove nature but a niggard, after all, Fred. How comes it, then, I plead a bootless suit, Fred. None. Ulrick. Thou art sure? Fred. I am. Disheartened at a race that hath no goal, My rivals leave the field to me alone. Ulrick. Thou mayst have rivals whom thou know'st no of. Fred. No! I have pressed her father oft thereon, And learned the history, beginning, close Of every siege of wooing-ending each In mortified retreat. Ulrick. You may have rivals Unknown to him. Love joys in mystery ; Fred. You are still at fault : She has no favoured lover-cannot have, Ulrick. Call naught impossible, till thou hast proved Who then, 'midst millions, seems to stand alone. So of two issues, set thy mind to one She has found the man who stands 'mongst millions sole, Or he is yet to find, and thou not he. Fred. Thou nam'st two issues-I can find a third. Fred. Here. As many streams will To make one river up, one passion oft go Ulrick. What passion, swoln in her, drinks up the rest? Fred. Pride. Ulrick. Of her beauty, or her rank, or what? Fred. Pride of herself! intolerant of all Equality; nor that its bounds alone Oppressive to the thing that is beneath her. Say that she waves me off when I advance, She spurns the serf that bows to her at distance: Suitor and secretary fare alike. I woo for scorn, he for no better serves Nay, rather worse comes off. Ulrick. Her secretary? Fred. The only one of all his wretched class Reads with a music, as a lute did talk; Translates dark languages-for learning which Of all sweet instruments that men essay- Ulrick. A useful man Your highness draws! To look upon ? What kind of thing is he Fred. 'Faith, proper, sir, in trunk, Feature, and limb; to envy, though a serf. But, err I not, a most unhappy man, And, for his service, weary of his life. Ulrick. Oh, love! a wilful, wayward thing thou art 'Twere strange! 'twere very strange! Fred. What? what were strange? What saidst thou now, apostrophising love? And so it is-fantastic and perverse ! Which makes its sport of persons and of seasons, "It is the bee that finds the honey out, "Where least you'd dream 'twould seek the nectar us store. "And 'tis an arrant masquer, this same love "That most outlandish, freakish faces wear, "To hide its own! Looks a proud Spaniard now; 66 Now, a grave Turk; hot Ethiopian next; "And then, phlegmatic Englishman; and then, 66 'Gay Frenchman; by and by, Italian, at "All things a song; and in another skip, "Gruff Dutchman ;-still is love behind the masque! "It is a hypocrite!-looks every way "But that where lie its thoughts!"—will openly Shows most like hate, e'en when it most is love; It falls on its knees, making most piteous suit Fred. To that intent I sent for thee; for thou art keen of sight Ulrick. Your pardon, sir:-your father bade me come To warn you, in these times of turbulence, He means to stand aloof, and take no part Between the barons and the empress; so Your course you know to shape. What company Is this? [Looking off, t Fred. The countess flies her hawk to-day, I say, he follows her: he woos her not, Through pride, 'tis said, lest he be thought to hunt [They retire, R. U. E. Nich. Not a better in all Germany. Chris. Then take my advice and keep it. Chris. Do! [Nicholas goes out, L.] My mistress will be discovered at last, well as she disguises herself and plays the man. I wish she had not taken this fancy into her head-it may bring her into trouble. [Catherine sings without, R.] Ha! here she is; returned to her proper self. Who would believe that this was the spark I let into the house at two o'clock in the morning? Enter CATHERINE, R. Cath. [Speaking as she enters.] Christina! Chris. Madam! Cath. Oh, here you are! just now? Was not Nicholas with you Chris. Yes, he is only this moment gone. I have just been giving him a lesson. He saw you when you came home last night. Cath. Hush! secrets should be dumb to very walls! A chink may change a nation's destinies, "And where are walls without one-that have doors? "Voice hath a giant's might, not a dwarf's bulk; "It passeth where a tiny fly must stop; "Conspiracy that does not lock it out, "Fastens the door in vain." Let's talk in whispers, And then, with mouth to ear. 'Tis strange, Christina, So long I practice this deceit, and still Pass for a thing I am not-ne'er suspected The thing I am-'mongst those who know me best, too. Yet would that all dissemblers meant as fair! I play the cheat for very honesty, To find a worthy heart out, and reward it. "Far as the poles asunder are two things, "Self-interest and undesigning love : "Yet no two things more like, to see them smile. "He is a conjurer, Christina, then, "Can tell you which is which !" Shall I be won, For that I bring to him who winneth me? |