LANDGRAVE. Mistress? Ah, such sins The Provost of St. George's will remit For half a pound of coppers. SCHNETZEN. Think it not! No light amour this, leaving shield unflecked; He wooes the Jewish damsel as a knight The lady of his heart. LANDGRAVE. Impossible! SCHNETZEN. Things more impossible have chanced. Remember Count Gleichen, doubly wived, who pined in Egypt, There wed the Pasha's daughter Malachsala, Nor blushed to bring his heathen paramour Home to his noble wife Angelica, Countess of Orlamund. Yea, and the Pope Sanctioned the filthy sin. LANDGRAVE. Himself shall say it. Ho, Gunther! (Enter a Lackey.) Bid the Prince of Meissen here. [Exit Lackey. The LANDGRAVE paces the stage in agitation.] Enter PRINCE WILLIAM. PRINCE WILLIAM. Father, you called me? LANDGRAVE. Ay, when were you last In Nordhausen? PRINCE WILLIAM. This morning I rode hence. LANDGRAVE. Were you at Susskind's house? PRINCE WILLIAM. I was, my liege. LANDGRAVE. I hear you entertain unseemly love For the Jew's daughter. PRINCE WILLIAM. Who has told thee this? SCHNETZEN. This I have told him. PRINCE WILLIAM. Father, believe him not. I swear by heaven 't is no unseemly love Leads me to Susskind's house. LANDGRAVE. With what high title Please you to qualify it? PRINCE WILLIAM. True, I love Liebhaid von Orb, but 't is the honest passion Wherewith a knight leads home his equal wife. LANDGRAVE. Great God! and thou wilt brag thy shame! Thou speakest Of wife and Jewess in one breath! Wilt make Thy princely name a stench in German nostrils? PRINCE WILLIAM. Hold, father, hold! You know her--yes, a Jewess In her domestic piety, her soul Large, simple, splendid like a star, her heart Suffused with Syrian sunshine--but no more-- The aspect of a Princess of Thuringia, Swan-necked, gold-haired, Madonna-eyed. I love her! If you will quench this passion, take my life! [He falls at his father's feet. FREDERICK, in a paroxysm of rage, seizes his sword.] SCHNETZEN. He is your son! LANDGRAVE. Oh that he ne'er were born! Hola! Halberdiers! Yeomen of the Guard! Enter Guardsmen. Bear off this prisoner! Let him sigh out His blasphemous folly in the castle tower, Until his hair be snow, his fingers claws. [They seize and bear away PRINCE WILLIAM.] Well, what's your counsel?