_Wer._ I have been full oft The chase of Fortune; now she hath o'ertaken My spirit where it cannot turn at bay,-- Sick, poor, and lonely. _Jos._ Lonely! my dear husband? _Wer._ Or worse--involving all I love, in this Far worse than solitude. _Alone_, I had died, And all been over in a nameless grave. _Jos._ And I had not outlived thee; but pray take Comfort! We have struggled long; and they who strive With Fortune win or weary her at last, 70 So that they find the goal or cease to feel Further. Take comfort,--we shall find our boy. _Wer._ We were in sight of him, of every thing Which could bring compensation for past sorrow-- And to be baffled thus! _Jos._ We are not baffled. _Wer._ Are we not penniless? _Jos._ We ne'er were wealthy. _Wer._ But I was born to wealth, and rank, and power; Enjoyed them, loved them, and, alas! abused them, And forfeited them by my father's wrath, In my o'er-fervent youth: but for the abuse 80 Long-sufferings have atoned. My father's death Left the path open, yet not without snares. This cold and creeping kinsman, who so long Kept his eye on me, as the snake upon The fluttering bird, hath ere this time outstept me, Become the master of my rights, and lord Of that which lifts him up to princes in Dominion and domain. _Jos._ Who knows? our son May have returned back to his grandsire, and Even now uphold thy rights for thee? _Wer._ 'Tis hopeless. 90 Since his strange disappearance from my father's, Entailing, as it were, my sins upon Himself, no tidings have revealed his course. I parted with him to his grandsire, on The promise that his anger would stop short Of the third generation; but Heaven seems To claim her stern prerogative, and visit Upon my boy his father's faults and follies. _Jos._ I must hope better still,--at least we have yet Baffled the long pursuit of Stralenheim. 100 _Wer._ We should have done, but for this fatal sickness;-- More fatal than a mortal malady, Because it takes not life, but life's sole solace: Even now I feel my spirit girt about By the snares of this avaricious fiend:-- How do I know he hath not tracked us here? _Jos._ He does not know thy person; and his spies, Who so long watched thee, have been left at Hamburgh. Our unexpected journey, and this change Of name, leaves all discovery far behind: 110 None hold us here for aught save what we seem. _Wer._ Save what we seem! save what we _are_--sick beggars, Even to our very hopes.--Ha! ha! _Jos._ Alas! That bitter laugh!