Stralenheim.‍Yes, my host! for Prague.

And these vile floods and villainous cross roads

Steal my time from it's uses—but—my people?

Where do they shelter?

Ulric.‍In the boatman's shed,

Near to the ferry: you mistook the ford—150

Tis higher to the right:—their entertainment

Will be but rough—but 'tis a single night,

And they had best be guardians of the baggage.

The shed will hold the weather from their sleep,