[A servant-man bursts in.]
Servant. Madam, the Landgrave gave me strict commands—
Isen. The Landgrave, dolt?
Eliz. I might have saved him!
Servant [to Isen.] Ay, saucy madam!—
The Landgrave Henry, lord and master,
Freer than the last, and yet no waster,
Who will not stint a poor knave’s beer,
Or spin out Lent through half the year.
Why—I see double!
Eliz. Who spoke there of the Landgrave? What’s this drunkard?
Give him his answer—’Tis no time for mumming—
Serv. The Landgrave Henry bade me see you out
Safe through his gates, and that at once, my Lady.
Come!
Eliz. Why—that’s hasty—I must take my children
Ah! I forgot—they would not let me see them.
I must pack up my jewels—
Serv. You’ll not need it—
His Lordship has the keys.
Eliz. He has indeed.
Why, man!—I am thy children’s godmother—
I nursed thy wife myself in the black sickness—
Art thou a bird, that when the old tree falls,
Flits off, and sings in the sapling?