WERNER. Nov. 1815. [FIRST DRAFT.] ACT I. SCENE I.-A ruinous chateau on the Silesian frontier of Bohemia. Josepha. THE storm is at it's height-how the wind howls, Like an unearthly voice, through these lone chambers! Which quivers in it's frame-the night is starless— The tempest is without, or should be so For we are sheltered here where Fortune's clouds Werner (without attending, and walking disturbedly, Yet clung convulsively-for twas the last Is broken with the rest: would that my heart were! II And haunts me in the shape of Stralenheim ! 20 [Werner pauses. My boy, too, where and what is he?-my father Dear Werner, Oh banish these discomfortable thoughts The time when thy Josepha's smile could turn So let it now-alas! you hear me not. 30 Werner. What said you?-let it pass-no matter what Think me not churlish, Sweet, I am not well. My brain is hot and busy-long fatigue And last night's watching have oppressed me much. Josepha. Then get thee to thy couch. I do perceive In thy pale cheek and in thy bloodshot eye A strange distemperature-nay, as a boon, I do entreat thee to thy rest. Werner. Well-be it so-Good Night! My rest! Thy hand is burning; I will prepare a potion :-peace be with thee Tomorrow's dawn I trust will find thee healthful; 40 Werner. Our Ulric-thine and mine-our only boy-Curse on his father and his father's Sire ! (For, if it is so, I will render back A curse that Heaven will hear as well as his), Is at this hour, perchance, undone. This night 50 Our Ulric-Woman -I'll to no bed to-night- What words, Josepha. By birth predestined to the yoke I've borne. Josepha. I know not what My heart-my will-my love are linked with thine, 60 Werner. Thou see'st the son of Count-but let it pass I forfeited the name in wedding thee: That fault of many faults a father's pride Proclaimed the last and worst-and, from that hour, A wayward son ——tis a long tale-too long— 70 Josepha. Oh, I could weep-but that were little solace : Yet tell the rest—or, if thou wilt not, say— Yet say why, through long years, from me withheld, Werner. Why? had it not been base to call on thee For patience and for pity-to awake The thirst of grandeur in thy gentle spirit To tell thee what thou shouldst have been-the wife Of one, in power-birth-wealth, preeminent Then, sudden quailing in that lofty tone, 80 To bid thee soothe thy husband-peasant Werner? Josepha. I would thou wert, indeed, the peasant Werner; For then thy soul had been of calmer mould, And suited to thy lot Werner. Was it not so ? Beneath a humble name and garb—the which 90 Too justly fixed upon me, had compelled My bowed down spirit to assume too well- Ere I beheld thee Josepha. Would thou never hadst ! Werner. Yet say not so-for all that I have known Of true and calm content-of love-of peace Has been with thee and from thee: wert thou not, I were a lonely and self-loathing thing. Ulric has left us! all, save thou, have left me! 100 Father and son-Fortune-Fame-Power-Ambition The ties of being-the high soul of man— All save the long remorse-the consciousness, While others soared-Away, I'll think no more. Josepha. But Ulric-wherefore didst thou let him leave His home and us? tis now three weary years. Werner (interrupting her quickly). Since my hard father, half-relenting, sent The offer of a scanty stipend which I needs must earn by rendering up my son Fool that I was-I thought this quick compliance, The haught name of my house would soften him- Till the last year, the wretched pittance came― Josepha. Was it for this our Ulric left us so? 120 To join the legions of Count Tilly's war? Werner. I know not-he had left my father's castle, 130 Some months before his death-but why?-but why? Left it as I did ere his birth, perchance, Like me an outcast. Old age had not made My father meeker-and my son, Alas! Josepha. Yet there's comfort. Restrain thy wandering Spirit-Ulric cannot In anger parted-Hope is left us still. Werner. The best hope that I ever held in youth, When every pulse was life, each thought a joy, (Yet not irrationally sanguine, since 141 My birth bespoke high thoughts,) hath lured and left me. I will not be a dreamer in mine age The hunter of a shadow-let boys hope: Of Hope I now know nothing but the name And that's a sound which jars upon my heart. I've wearied thee-Good night-my patient Love! Josepha. I must not leave thee thus-my husband friend My heart is rent in twain for thee-I scarce Dare greet thee as I would, lest that my love Yet rest were as a healing balm to thee Should seem officious and ill timed:-'tis early 150 Then once again-Good night! Voice Without. What Ho-lights ho! SCENE II. Josepha. What noise is that? 'tis nearer-hush they knock. [A knocking heard at the gate-WERNER starts. Werner (aside). It may be that the bloodhounds of the villain, Who long has tracked me, have approached at last : Josepha. "Twas the voice, |