Lewis. Good news, my Princess; in the street below Conrad, the man of G.o.d from Marpurg, stands And from a bourne-stone to the simple folk Does thunder doctrine, preaching faith, repentance, And dread of all foul heresies; his eyes On heaven still set, save when with searching frown He lours upon the crowd, who round him cower Like quails beneath the hawk, and gape, and tremble, Now raised to heaven, now down again to h.e.l.l.

I stood beside and heard; like any doe's My heart did rise and fall.

Eliz. Oh, let us hear him!

We too need warning; shame, if we let pa.s.s, Unentertained, G.o.d's angels on their way.

Send for him, brother.

Lewis. Let a knight go down And say to the holy man, the Landgrave Lewis With humble greetings prays his blessedness To make these secular walls the spirit's temple At least to-night.

Eliz. Now go, my ladies, both-- Prepare fit lodgings,--let your courtesies Retain in our poor courts the man of G.o.d.

[Exeunt. Lewis and Elizabeth are left alone.]

Now hear me, best beloved:--I have marked this man: And that which hath scared others, draws me towards him: He has the graces which I want; his sternness I envy for its strength; his fiery boldness I call the earnestness which dares not trifle With life's huge stake; his coldness but the calm Of one who long hath found, and keeps unwavering, Clear purpose still; he hath the gift which speaks The deepest things most simply; in his eye I dare be happy--weak I dare not be.

With such a guide,--to save this little heart-- The burden of self-rule--Oh--half my work Were eased, and I could live for thee and thine, And take no thought of self. Oh, be not jealous, Mine own, mine idol! For thy sake I ask it-- I would but be a mate and help more meet For all thy knightly virtues.

Lewis. 'Tis too true!

I have felt it long; we stand, two weakling children, Under too huge a burden, while temptations Like adders swarm up round: I must be led-- But thou alone shall lead me.

Eliz. I? beloved!

This load more? Strengthen, Lord, the feeble knees!

Lewis. Yes! thou, my queen, who making thyself once mine, Hast made me sevenfold thine; I own thee guide Of my devotions, mine ambition's lodestar, The Saint whose shrine I serve with lance and lute; If thou wilt have a ruler, let him be, Through thee, the ruler of thy slave. [Kneels to her.]

Eliz. Oh, kneel not-- But grant my prayer--If we shall find this man, As well I know him, worthy, let him be Director of my conscience and my actions With all but thee--Within love's inner shrine We shall be still alone--But joy! here comes Our emba.s.sy, successful.

[Enter Conrad, with Count Walter, Monks, Ladies, etc.]

Conrad. Peace to this house.

Eliz. Hail to your holiness.

Lewis. The odour of your sanct.i.ty and might, With balmy steam and gales of Paradise, Forestalls you hither.

Eliz. Bless us doubly, master, With holy doctrine, and with holy prayers.

Con. Children, I am the servant of Christ's servants-- And needs must yield to those who may command By right of creed; I do accept your bounty-- Not for myself, but for that priceless name, Whose dread authority and due commission, Attested by the seal of His vicegerent, I bear unworthy here; through my vile lips Christ and His vicar thank you; on myself-- And these, my brethren, Christ's adopted poor-- A menial's crust, and some waste nook, or dog-hutch, Wherein the worthless flesh may nightly hide, Are best bestowed.

Eliz. You shall be where you will-- Do what you will; unquestioned, un.o.bserved, Enjoy, refrain; silence and solitude, The better part which such like spirits choose, We will provide; only be you our master, And we your servants, for a few short days: Oh, blessed days!

Con. Ah, be not hasty, madam; Think whom you welcome; one who has no skill To wink and speak smooth things; whom fear of G.o.d Constrains to daily wrath; who brings, alas!

A sword, not peace: within whose bones the word Burns like a pent-up fire, and makes him bold If aught in you or yours shall seem amiss, To cry aloud and spare not; let me go-- To pray for you--as I have done long time, Is sweeter than to chide you.

Eliz. Then your prayers Shall drive home your rebukes; for both we need you-- Our snares are many, and our sins are more.

So say not nay--I'll speak with you apart.

[Elizabeth and Conrad retire.]

Lewis [aside]. Well, Walter mine, how like you the good legate?

Wal. Walter has seen nought of him but his eye; And that don't please him.

Lewis. How so, sir! that face Is pure and meek--a calm and thoughtful eye.

Wal. A shallow, stony, steadfast eye; that looks at neither man nor beast in the face, but at something invisible a yard before him, through you and past you, at a fascination, a ghost of fixed purposes that haunts him, from which neither reason nor pity will turn him. I have seen such an eye in men possessed--with devils, or with self: sleek, pa.s.sionless men, who are too refined to be manly, and measure their grace by their effeminacy; crooked vermin, who swarm up in pious times, being drowned out of their earthly haunts by the spring-tide of religion; and so making a gain of G.o.dliness, swim upon the first of the flood, till it cast them ash.o.r.e on the firm beach of wealth and station. I always mistrust those wall-eyed saints.

Lewis. Beware, Sir Count; your keen and worldly wit Is good for worldly uses, not to tilt Withal at holy men and holy things.

He pleases well the spiritual sense Of my most peerless lady, whose discernment Is still the touchstone of my grosser fancy: He is her friend, and mine: and you must love him Even for our sakes alone, [to a bystander] A word with you, sir.

[In the meantime Elizabeth and Conrad are talking together.]

Eliz. I would be taught--

Con. It seems you claim some knowledge, By choosing thus your teacher.

Eliz. I would know more--

Con. Go then to the schools--and be no wiser, madam; And let G.o.d's charge here run to waste, to seek The bitter fruit of knowledge--hunt the rainbow O'er hill and dale, while wisdom rusts at home.

Eliz. I would be holy, master--

Con. Be so, then.

G.o.d's will stands fair: 'tis thine which fails, if any.

Eliz. I would know how to rule--

Con. Then must thou learn The needs of subjects, and be ruled thyself.

Sink, if thou longest to rise; become most small-- The strength which comes by weakness makes thee great.

Eliz. I will.

Lewis. What, still at lessons? Come, my fairest sister, Usher the holy man unto his lodgings. [Exeunt.]

Wal [alone]. So, so, the birds are limed:--Heaven grant that we do not soon see them stowed in separate cages. Well, here my prophesying ends. I shall go to my lands, and see how much the gentlemen my neighbours have stolen off them the last week,-- Priests? Frogs in the king's bedchamber! What says the song?

I once had a hound, a right good hound, A hound both fleet and strong: He ate at my board, and he slept by my bed, And ran with me all the day long.

But my wife took a priest, a shaveling priest, And 'such friendships are carnal,' quoth he.

So my wife and her priest they drugged the poor beast, And the rat's bane is waiting for me.

SCENE III

The Gateway of a Convent. Night.

Enter Conrad.

Con. This night she swears obedience to me! Wondrous Lord!

How hast Thou opened a path, where my young dreams May find fulfilment: there are prophecies Upon her, make me bold. Why comes she not?

She should be here by now. Strange, how I shrink-- I, who ne'er yet felt fear of man or fiend.