Thekla. I dread no mortal's anger now.
Neu.The mockery
Of the world, the wicked tongue of slander!
Thekla. I go to seek one that is cold and low:
Am I, then, hast'ning to my lover's arms?
O God! I am but hast'ning to his grave!
Neu. And we alone? Two feeble, helpless women?
Thekla. We will arm ourselves; my hand shall guard thee.
Neu. In the gloomy night-time?
Thekla.Night will hide us.
Neu. In this rude storm?
Thekla.Was his bed made of down,
When the horses' hoofs went o'er him?
Neu.O Heaven!
And then the many Swedish posts! They will not
Let us pass.