Which he appointed you for audience. Come! A curse, a threefold curse, upon this journey! [He leads QUESTENBERG off.

SCENE VI.-Changes to a spacious chamber in the house of the DUKE OF FRIEDLAND.-Servants employed in putting the tables and chairs in order. During this enters SENI, like an old Italian doctor, in black, and clothed somewhat fantastically. He carries a white staff, with which he marks out the quarters of the heaven.

1st Ser. Come-to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it. I hear the sentry call out, "Stand to your arms!" They will be there in a minute.

2d. Ser. Why were we not told before that the audience would be held here? Nothing prepared— no orders—no instructions—

3d. Ser. Ay, and why was the balcony-chamber countermanded, that with the great worked carpet? -there one can look about one.

He

1st. Ser. Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. says it is an unlucky chamber. 2d. Ser. Poh! stuff and nonsense! That's what I call a hum. A chamber is a chamber; what

much can the place signify in the affair?

Seni. [with gravity.] My son, there's nothing insignificant,

Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing

First and most principal is place and time.

1st. Ser. [to the second.] Say nothing to him,

Nat.

The Duke himself must let him have his own will.

Seni. [counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a low voice, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats.] Eleven an evil number! Set twelve

chairs.

Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and

seven,

The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve. 2d. Ser. And what may you have to object against eleven? I should like to know that now. Seni. Eleven is-transgression; eleven oversteps

The ten commandments.

2d. Ser. That's good! and why do you call five a holy number?

Seni. Five is the soul of man: for even as man Is mingled up of good and evil, so

The five is the first number that's made up
Of even and odd.

2d. Ser. The foolish old coxcomb!

1st. Ser. Ey! let him alone though.

I like to

hear him; there is more in his words than can be seen at first sight.

3d. Ser. Off, they come.

2d. Ser. There! Out at the side-door.

[They hurry off. SENI follows slowly. A Page brings the staff of command on a red cushion, and places it on the table near the DUKE's chair. They are announced from without, and the wings of the door fly

open.

SCENE VII.-WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS.

Wal. You went then through Vienna, were

That I had sent for wife and daughter hither

To the camp, in winter time?

Duch. I did even that Which you commissioned me to do. I told them, You had determined on our daughter's marriage, And wished, ere yet you went into the field, To show the elected husband his betrothed.

Wal. And did they guess the choice which I had made?

Duch. They only hoped and wished it may have fallen

Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.

Wal. And you-what do you wish, Elizabeth? Duch. Your will, you know, was always mine. Wal. [after a pause.] Well then, And in all else, of what kind and complexion

Was your reception at the Court?

[The DUCHESS casts her eyes on the ground and remains silent. Hide nothing from me. How were you received? Duch. O! my dear lord, all is not what it was. A cankerworm, my lord, a cankerworm

Has stolen into the bud.

Wal.

Ay! is it so!

What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?

Duch. Not of respect. No honours were omitted. No outward courtesy ; but in the place Of condescending, confidential kindness, Familiar and endearing, there were given me Only these honours and that solemn courtesy. Ah! and the tenderness which was put on, It was the guise of pity, not of favour.

No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife,

Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so— Not wholly so should she have been received.

Wal. Yes, yes; they have ta'en offence. My latest conduct,

They railed at it, no doubt.

Duch.

O that they had!

I have been long accustomed to defend you,
To heal and pacify distempered spirits.

No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them

up,

O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence !-
Here is no every-day misunderstanding,

No transient pique, no cloud that passes over;
Something most luckless, most unhealable,
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt,
And ever at departure to embrace me-
Wal. Now she omitted it?

Duch. [wiping away her tears, after a pause.]
She did embrace me,

But then first when I had already taken
My formal leave, and when the door already
Had closed upon me, then did she come out
In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself,
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish
Than tenderness.

Wal. [seizes her hand soothingly.] Nay, now
collect yourself,

And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein,

And of our other friends there?

Duch. [shaking her head.]

I saw none.

Wal. Th' Ambassador from Spain, who once

was wont

To plead so warmly for me?

Duch.

Silent, silent!

Wal. These suns then are eclipsed for us.

Henceforward

Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light. Duch. And were it—were it, my dear lord, in that

Which moved about the Court in buzz and whisper, But in the country let itself be heard

Aloud-in that which Father Lamormain

In sundry hints and

Wal. [eagerly.]

Lamormain! what said he?

Duch. That you're accused of having daringly O'erstepped the powers intrusted to you, charged With traitorous contempt of th' Emperor