For thither tends my progress—so, betimes,
Mine host I would be stirring—think of that!
And let me find my couch of rest at present.
Werner. You shall Sir—but—to Mansfeldt!—
[Ulric stops his father and says aside to him,
Silence—father—
Whate'er it be that shakes you thus—tread down—
(To Stralenheim) My father, Sir, was born not far from Prague,
And knows it's environs—and, when he hears,
The name endeared to him by native thoughts,