Enter AURANTHE.

Auranthe. Conrad! what tidings?

may guess

Good, if I

From your alert eyes and high-lifted brows.

What tidings of the battle? Albert? Ludolph ? Otho?

Conrad. You guess aright. And, sister, slurring

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'ythee, 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,—

OTHO THE GREAT.

A Tragedy.

IN FIVE ACTS.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

OTHO THE GREAT, Emperor of Germany.
LUDOLPH, his Son.

CONRAD, Duke of Franconia.

ALBERT, a Knight, favoured by Otho.
SIGIFRED, an Officer, friend of Ludolph.

SCENE.-The Castle of Friedburg, its vicinity, and the

Hungarian Camp.

TIME.-One Day.

Against the Emperor had suborn'd his son,—
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!

Conrad. I saw my moment. The Hungarians, 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 minced 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.

Το

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,