380
OTHO THE GREAT.
Auranthe.As speedily
It must be done as my bribed woman can
Unseen conduct him to me; but I fear
'Twill be impossible, while the broad day
Comes through the panes with persecuting glare.
Methinks, if't now were night I could intrigue
With darkness, bring the stars to second me,
And settle all this trouble.
It must be done as my bribed woman can
Unseen conduct him to me; but I fear
'Twill be impossible, while the broad day
Comes through the panes with persecuting glare.
Methinks, if't now were night I could intrigue
With darkness, bring the stars to second me,
And settle all this trouble.
Conrad.Nonsense! Child!
See him immediately; why not now?
See him immediately; why not now?
Auranthe. Do you forget that even the senseless door-posts
Are on the watch and gape through all the house;
How many whisperers there are about,
Hungry for evidence to ruin me
Men I have spurn'd, and women I have taunted.
Besides, the foolish Prince sends, minute whiles,
His pages—so they tell me—to inquire
After my health, entreating, if I please,
To see me.
Are on the watch and gape through all the house;
How many whisperers there are about,
Hungry for evidence to ruin me
Men I have spurn'd, and women I have taunted.
Besides, the foolish Prince sends, minute whiles,
His pages—so they tell me—to inquire
After my health, entreating, if I please,
To see me.
Conrad. Well, suppose this Albert here;
What is your power with him?
What is your power with him?
Auranthe. He should be
My echo, my taught parrot! but I fear
He will be cur enough to bark at me;
Have his own say; read me some silly creed
'Bout shame and pity.
My echo, my taught parrot! but I fear
He will be cur enough to bark at me;
Have his own say; read me some silly creed
'Bout shame and pity.
Conrad. What will you do then?
Auranthe. What I shall do, I know not; what I would,
Cannot be done; for see, this chamber-floor
Will not yield to the pick-axe and the spade,—
Here is no quiet depth of hollow ground.
Cannot be done; for see, this chamber-floor
Will not yield to the pick-axe and the spade,—
Here is no quiet depth of hollow ground.