Soph. As you shall please--Your brother's landgravate Is somewhat to you, surely--and your smiles Are worth gold pieces in a court intrigue. For her, on her own principles, a downfall Is a chastening mercy--and a likely one. Agnes. Oh! let me stay, and comfort her! Soph. Romance! You girls adore a scene--as lookers on. [Exit Sophia.] Agnes [alone]. Well spoke the old monks, peaceful watching life's turmoil, 'Eyes which look heavenward, weeping still we see: God's love with keen flame purges, like the lightning flash, Gold which is purest, purer still must be.' [Guta enters.] Alas! Returned alone! Where has my sister been? Guta. Thank heaven you hear alone, for such sad sight would haunt Henceforth your young hopes--crush your shuddering fancy down With dread of like fierce anguish. You saw her bound forth: we towards her bower in haste Ran trembling: spell-bound there, before her bridal-bed She stood, while wan smiles flickered, like the northern dawn, Across her worn cheeks' ice-field; keenest memories then Rushed with strong shudderings through her--as the winged shaft Springs from the tense nerve, so her passion hurled her forth Sweeping, like fierce ghost, on through hall and corridor, Tearless, with wide eyes staring, while a ghastly wind Moaned on through roof and rafter, and the empty helms Along the walls ran clattering, and above her waved Dead heroes' banners; swift and yet more swift she drove Still seeking aimless; sheer against the opposing wall At last dashed reckless--there with frantic fingers clutched Blindly the ribbed oak, till that frost of rage Dissolved itself in tears, and like a babe, With inarticulate moans, and folded hands, She followed those who led her, as if the sun On her life's dial had gone back seven years, And she were once again the dumb sad child We knew her ere she married. Isen [entering]. As after wolf wolf presses, leaping through the snow-glades, So woe on woe throngs surging up. Guta. What? treason? Isen. Treason, and of the foulest. From her state she's rudely thrust; Her keys are seized; her weeping babies pent from her: The wenches stop their sobs to sneer askance, And greet their fallen censor's new mischance. Agnes. Alas! Who dared to do this wrong? Isen. Your mother and your mother's son-- Judge you, if it was knightly done. Guta. See! see! she comes, with heaving breast, With bursting eyes, and purpled brow: Oh that the traitors saw her now! They know not, sightless fools, the heart they break. [Elizabeth enters slowly.]