I will prepare a potion:—peace be with thee—
Tomorrow's dawn I trust will find thee healthful;
And, then, our Ulric may perchance—
Werner. Our Ulric—thine and mine—our only boy—
Curse on his father and his father's Sire!
(For, if it is so, I will render back
A curse that Heaven will hear as well as his),
Our Ulric by his father's fault or folly,
And by my father's unrelenting pride,50
Is at this hour, perchance, undone. This night