Till now I've borne it patiently, at least,
In bitter silence—but the hour is come,
That should and shall behold me as I was,
And ought again to be—
Josepha.I know not what
Thy mystery may tend to, but my fate—
My heart—my will—my love are linked with thine,
And I would share thy sorrow: lay it open.
Werner. Thou see'st the son of Count—but let it pass—
I forfeited the name in wedding thee: