Gaucelme.

[The Courtiers, who have been drawing
nearer and nearer, inter pose.
"Farewell," Prince?
when we break in at our risk
Clugnet. Almost upon court-licence
trespassing

Gaucelme. To point out how your
claims are valid yet!

You know not, by the Duke her father's will,

The lady, if she weds beneath her rank, Forfeits her Duchy in the next heir's favour

to So 'tis expressly stipulate. And if

It can be shown 'tis her intent to wed
A subject, then yourself, next heir, by right
Succeed to Juliers.

Berthold.

What insanity?

Guibert. Sir, there's one Valence, the
pale fiery man

You saw and heard this morning
thought, no doubt,

Was of considerable standing here:
I put it to your penetration, Prince,
If aught save love, the truest love for her
Could make him serve the lady as he did!
20 He's simply a poor advocate of Cleves

Creeps here with difficulty, finds a place
With danger, gets in by a miracle,
And for the first time meets the lady's
face-

So runs the story: is that credible?
For, first no sooner in, than he's ap-

prised
Fortunes have changed; you are all-
powerful here,

The lady as powerless: he stands fast by her!

The Duchess (aside]. And do such deeds spring up from love alone? Guibert. But here occurs the question, does the lady

30 Love him again? I say, how else can she? Can she forget how he stood singly forth In her defence, dared outrage all of us, Insult yourself - for what, save love's

reward?

The Duchess [aside]. And is love then the sole reward of love?

Guibert. But, love him as she may and must -you ask,

Means she to wed him? "Yes," both natures answer!

Both, in their pride, point out the sole result;

Nought less would he accept nor she propose.

For each conjecture was she great enough

Sure that I do not love him!

Guibert.
Hear you, Prince?
Berthold. And what, sirs, please you,

may this prattle mean

Unless to prove with what alacrity
You give your lady's secrets to the world?
How much indebted, for discovering
That quality, you make me, will be found
When there's a keeper for my own to seek.
Courtiers. "Our lady?"
Berthold.

She assuredly remains.
The Duchess. Ah, Prince and you
too can be generous?
You could renounce your power, if this 60

were so,

And let me, as these phrase it, wed my love Yet keep my Duchy? You perhaps exceed

Him, even, in disinterestedness!

Berthold. How, lady, should all this affect my purpose?

Your will and choice are still as ever, free. Say, you have known a worthier than myself

In mind and heart, of happier form and face

Others must have their birthright: I have gifts,

To balance theirs, not blot them out of sight.

Against a hundred alien qualities,
I lay the prize I offer. I am nothing:
Wed you the Empire?

The Duchess. And my heart away? Berthold. When have I made pretension to your heart?

I give none. I shall keep your honour safe:

With mine I trust you, as the sculptor trusts
Yon marble woman with the marble rose,
Loose on her hand, she never will let fall,
In graceful, slight, silent security.
You will be proud of my world-wide career,
And I content in you the fair and good,

What were the use of planting a few seeds

The thankless climate never would

mature

Affections all repelled by circumstance?
Enough: to these no credit I attach,
To what you own, find nothing to object.
Write simply on my requisition's face
What shall content my friends that you
admit,

As Colombe of Ravestein, the claims
therein,

Or never need admit them, as my wife 10 And either way, all's ended!

Let all end!

The Duchess.
Berthold. The requisition!
Guibert. - Valence holds, of course!
Berthold. Desire his presence!
[ADOLF goes out.
Courtiers [to each other]. Out it all
comes yet;

He'll have his word against the bargain
yet;

He's not the man to tamely acquiesce. One passionate appeal - upbraiding even, May turn the tide again. Despair not yet! [They retire a little. Berthold [to MELCHIOR]. The Empire has its old success, my friend! Melchior. You've had your way: before the spokesman speaks, Let me, but this once, work a problem out, 20 And ever more be dumb! The Empire wins? To better purpose have I read my books!

Enter VALENCE.

Melchior to the Courtiers]. Apart, my

masters!

[To VALENCE.] Sir, one word with you! am a poor dependant of the Prince's Pitched on to speak, as of slight consequence.

You are no higher, I find: in other words, We two, as probably the wisest here, Need not hold diplomatic talk like fools. Suppose I speak, divesting the plain fact Of all their tortuous phrases, fit for them? 30 Do you reply so, and what trouble saved! The Prince, then an embroiled strange heap of news

This moment reaches him if true or
false,

All dignity forbids he should inquire
In person, or by worthier deputy;

Yet somehow must inquire, lest slander

May reach, and dwell with, what she looks 70 upon?

Melchior [to the Prince]. Now to him,

you!

Berthold [to VALENCE]. My friend ac

quaints you, sir,

The noise runs.

now

return

but this charge which I

[Offers the requisition, which she takes. Wishing your good.

The Duchess [having subscribed it]. And opportunely, sir

Since at a birthday's close, like this of mine,

Good wishes gentle deeds reciprocate. Most on a wedding-day, as mine is too, Should gifts be thought of: yours comes first by right.

Ask of me!

Berthold.

asks,

He shall have whate'er he

For your sake and his own. Valence (aside].

If I should ask

The withered bunch of flowers she wears perhaps,

One last touch of her hand, I never more Shall see! [After a pause, presenting his paper to the Prince. Cleves' Prince, redress the wrongs

of Cleves!

Berthold. I will, sir!

The Duchess [as VALENCE prepares to retire]. Nay, do out your duty, first!

You bore this paper; I have registered My answer to it: read it and have done! [VALENCE reads it.

I take him give up Juliers and the world.

This is my Birthday.
Melchior.

Berthold, my one hero Of the world she gives up, one friend worth my books,

Sole man I think it pays the pains to watch,

Speak, for I know you through your Popes and Kings!

Berthold [after a pause]. Lady, well rewarded! Sir, as well deserved!

I could not imitate I hardly envy
I do admire you. All is for the best.
Too costly a flower were this, I see it

now,

To pluck and set upon my barren helm
To wither - any garish plume will do.
I'll not insult you and refuse your Duchy-
You can so well afford to yield it me,
And I were left, without it, sadly lorn.
As it is for me if that will flatter

you,

Die blissfully

that's past so long ago! He wishes you no need, thought, care of

40

50

60

Begins already! They're too occupied 70 To listen: and few words content me best.

[Abruptly to the Courtiers.] I am your Duke, though! Who obey me here? The Duchess. Adolf and Sabyne follow

us