_Land._ I can't recollect. _Cas._ Oh agony! [_In a paroxysm of agitation._ _Waiter._ See here, her name upon the travelling trunk--Matilda Pottingen. _Cas._ Ecstasy! ecstasy! [_Embracing the_ WAITER. _Land._ You seem to be acquainted with the lady--shall I call her? _Cas._ Instantly--instantly--tell her, her loved, her, long lost--tell her---- _Land._ Shall I tell her dinner is ready? _Cas._ Do so--and in the meanwhile I will look after my portmanteau. [_Exeunt severally._ _Scene changes to a subterraneous vault in the Abbey of Quedlinburgh, with coffins, 'scutcheous, Death's heads and cross-bones._--_Toads, and other loathsome reptiles are seen traversing the obscurer parts of the Stage._--ROGERO _appears in chains, in a suit of rusty armour, with his beard grown, and a cap of a grotesque form upon his head._--_Beside him a crock, or pitcher, supposed to contain his daily allowance of sustenance._--_A long silence, during which the wind is heard to whistle through the caverns._--ROGERO _rises, and comes slowly forward, with his arms folded._ _Rog._ Eleven years! it is now eleven years since I was first immured in this living sepulchre--the cruelty of a minister--the perfidy of a monk--yes, Matilda! for thy sake--alive amidst the dead--chained--coffined--confined--cut off from the converse of my fellow-men. Soft! what have we here? [_stumbles over a bundle of sticks_.] This cavern is so dark, that I can scarcely distinguish the objects under my feet. Oh! the register of my captivity. Let me see, how stands the account? [_takes up the sticks and turns them over with a melancholy air; then stands silent for a few moments, as if absorbed in calculation_.] Eleven years and fifteen days! Hah! the twenty-eighth of August! How does the recollection of it vibrate on my heart! It was on this day that I took my last leave of my Matilda. It was a summer evening--her melting hand seemed to dissolve in mine, as I press'd it to my bosom. Some demon whispered me that I should never see her more. I stood gazing on the hated vehicle which was conveying her away for ever. The tears were petrified under my eyelids. My heart was crystallized with agony. Anon, I looked along the road. The diligence seemed to diminish every instant. I felt my heart beat against its prison, as if anxious to leap out and overtake it. My soul whirled round as I watched the rotation of the hinder wheels. A long trail of glory followed after her, and mingled with the dust--it was the emanation of Divinity, luminous with love and beauty, like the splendour of the setting sun; but it told me that the sun of my joys was sunk for ever. Yes, here in the depths of an eternal dungeon--in the nursing cradle of hell--the suburbs of perdition --in a nest of demons, where despair, in vain, sits brooding