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from out the envious night or festal day I give to it. You sir, perchance are deeply read.
Vis. (distantly) But little I assure you. I must go.
Chas. I, the same way.
Quen. Farewell! I I trust to meet again, Sir Artist.
Quen. Was it all safe?
Franz. Mine own hands gave it in.
Quen. How much I owe you Franz!
Franz. Tush! it's a child squeals if a drop falls:
Quen. But you rain kindness–I have no return.
Franz. I calculate on your success to pay
The debt you owe me. I'll demand it then,
Fiercely indeed.
Quen. But not for me the Crown,
Of good achieved–preeminence, or power.
This feeble effort cast into the world,
Is like the cry a sinking swimmer sends
Into the lightless dark; no shore! no sail!
And I must sink like him: for on my hands
I wear the fetters–youth and poverty.
Franz. Why! this one prize is not the world–this day
Thy life-long hope. Thou hast not yet o'erlooked
The cradle of thy mother's arm; thy strength
TO what it will be, is an infant's
Quen. Well!
I'll drown remembrance in a draught of love;
In one hour I will meet thee.
Franz. There is some magic in this friend of mine,
That feeds my captious soul with gentlest milk,
And makes me love him. God grant him success–
Tho' that's impossible, the fruit's too high!
SCENE IV.
Antwerp Cathedral—A Secluded Interior—Quentin and Adelaide.
Adel. But you will win!
Quen. No, no! there is no hope!
Who sees the moon within a sunny sky–
A pebble amongst jewels–save to scoff
And cast it out.
Adel. It shall not be; it will not be!
Quen. Truth terrifies, but only in her breast
Lie peach, and power. Think thou then no thought
Of victory; consider what I am:
Feel strong as I do; even to place the wreath
