WALLENSTEIN.
111
DUCHESS.
Who gone, my daughter?
Who gone, my daughter?
THEKLA.
He—the man who utter'd
That word of misery.
He—the man who utter'd
That word of misery.
DUCHESS.
O! think not of it,
My Thekla!
O! think not of it,
My Thekla!
WALLENSTEIN.
Give her sorrow leave to talk!
Let her complain—mingle your tears with her's,
For she hath suffer'd a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.
Give her sorrow leave to talk!
Let her complain—mingle your tears with her's,
For she hath suffer'd a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.
THEKLA.
I am not ill. See, I have power to stand.
Why does my mother weep? Have I alarm'd her?
It is gone by-I recollect myself.
(she casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one.)
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me.
You see, I have strength enough: now I will hear him.
I am not ill. See, I have power to stand.
Why does my mother weep? Have I alarm'd her?
It is gone by-I recollect myself.
(she casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one.)
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me.
You see, I have strength enough: now I will hear him.
DUCHESS.
No, never shall this messenger of evil
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla!
No, never shall this messenger of evil
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla!
THEKLA.
My father-
My father-
WAL-
