I.
I'll tap at her door when the morning shall break,
And with the first lark I'll be singing;
I'll whisper quite soft, "Now, my dear love, awake,
For the church bells are merrily ringing.
The bridegroom, impatient, no longer can rest:
The bridemen and bridemaids quite smartly are drest;
The drums and the fifes so cheerily play,
The shepherds all chant a gay roundelay;
With garlands of roses fair damsels advance,
The young and the old partake in the dance;
Such mirth and such rapture never were known;
I'm surpris'd that so long you will tarry:
I prithee, Ulrica—prithee, come down;
For the sport of all sports is—to marry."
II
When home we return, we'll sit down to feast,
Our friends shall behold us with pleasure;
She'll sip with my lord—I'll drink with the priest,
We'll laugh and we'll quaff without measure.
The toast and the joke shall go joyfully round,
With love and good humour the room shall resound.
The slipper be hid—the stocking let fall,
And rare blindman's-buff shall keep up the ball;
Whilst the merry spinette, and the sweet tambourine,
Shall heighten and perfect the gay festive scene.
Such mirth and such rapture never were known,
I'm surprised that so long you will tarry;
I prithee, Ulrica—prithee, come down;
For the sport of all sports is—to marry.
[Exit into the chateau.
SCENE III.—A splendid gothic hall in the baron's chateau. Large folding doors in the centre. Two state chairs are brought on by two of the baron's servants.
Enter Ravensburg.
Ravens. Today, to swear the dire terrific oath, "and on tomorrow be the nuptials solemnized." In all—in all—must Ravensburg be sacrificed?—He must—his father has committed him! pledged by his promise to accept the fair Ulrica s hand, shall I, perchance, destroy her prospects and her hopes, by basely now retracting! No—though love for Agnes occupies my breast, still is there room for honourable feeling! and be the conflict great as was the last, that feeling shall prevail! This hand shall be Ulrica's—unless—there, there's my hope! Now, at the banquet, she besought a private interview; and whilst the festive scene engages all, I've stolen forth to give her here the meeting. What, what would she impart?—And why delay? Oh, were her tidings welcome, she would not thus withhold them.
Enter Agnes, hastily, not seeing Ravensburg.
Agnes. I cannot comprehend! the prince to gaze on me with such emotion! wildly exclaim, "the sight of her is hateful!" and, with the baron, leave the banquet, to be told the whole of my sad history—'Tis well! I shall not suffer by the truth; for, as I guess, mine, is a story to excite more of compassion than resentment.