Scene VIII.

Strato (_with a sword in his hand_), Aridaeus, Philotas.

STRATO.

King! I came to the soldier who had taken the prince and demanded the prince's sword from him in your name. But hear how nobly the soldier refused! "The king," he said, "must not take the sword from me! It is a good sword, and I shall use it in his service. I must also keep a remembrance of this deed. By the gods, it was none of my least! The prince is a young demon. But perhaps you wish only the precious hilt!" And on this, before I could prevent it, his strong hand had broken off the hilt, and throwing it contemptuously before my feet--"There it is," he continued, "what care I for your gold?"

ARIDAeUS.

O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!

STRATO.

I have done so. And here is one of your swords!

ARIDAeUS.

Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?

PHILOTAS.

Let me see! Ha! (_aside_.) Be thanked, ye gods! (_eyeing it long and earnestly_). A sword!

STRATO.

Have I not chosen well, prince?

ARIDAeUS.

What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?

PHILOTAS.

That it is a sword!--(_recovering himself_.) And a beautiful sword! I shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!

ARIDAeUS.

You tremble, prince!

PHILOTAS.

With joy! It seems, however, a trifle short for me. But why short? A step nearer to the enemy replaces what is wanting in the steel. Beloved sword! What a beautiful thing is a sword,--to play with and to use! I have never played with anything else.

ARIDAeUS (_to_ Strato).

O the wondrous combination of child and hero!

PHILOTAS (_aside_).

Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!

ARIDAeUS.

Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!

PHILOTAS.

Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword only outwardly (_he draws it, and_ Strato _steps between him and the king_).

STRATO.

I understand the steel better than the workmanship. Believe me, prince, the steel is good. The king has cleft more than one helmet with it since his youth.

PHILOTAS.

I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so near, Strato!

STRATO.

Why not?

PHILOTAS.

So! (_springing back and swinging the sword through the air_). It has the right swing.

ARIDAeUS.

Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!

PHILOTAS.

Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my shame! I was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a wonder spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare it you in the future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself surrounded again! Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded! What now? Companions! Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead? Enemies everywhere! Through here, Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash fellow!--And that for you!--And that for you! (_striking around him_.)

STRATO.

Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (_approaches him_.)

PHILOTAS (_stepping away from him_).

You too, Strato? You too? O, foe, be generous! Kill me! Do not make me captive! No, I do not deliver myself up! Were you all, who surround me, Stratos, yet I will defend myself against you all--against a world will I defend myself! Do your best, my foes! But you will not? You will not kill me, cruel men? You only wish to have me alive? I laugh at you! To take me prisoner alive? Me? Sooner shall this sword--this sword--shall pierce this breast--sooner--before--(_he stabs himself_.)

ARIDAeUS.

God! Strato!

STRATO.

King!

PHILOTAS.

I wished it thus! (_sinking back_.)

ARIDAeUS.

Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what raving anguish----

PHILOTAS.

Forgive me, king! I have dealt you a more deadly blow than myself! I die, and soon will peaceful lands enjoy the fruit of my death. Your son, king, is a prisoner, and the son of my father is free!

ARIDAeUS.

What do I hear?

STRATO.

Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had no right over yourself!

PHILOTAS.

Do not say that, Strato! Should a man be able to fetter another's liberty to die, the liberty which the gods have left in all vicissitudes of life?

STRATO.

O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!

ARIDAeUS.

Who calls me?

STRATO.

King!

ARIDAeUS.

Be silent!

STRATO.

The war is over, king!

ARIDAeUS.

Over? You lie, Strato! The war is not over, prince! Die! yes, die! But carry with you this tormenting thought! You believed, as a true ignorant boy, that fathers were all of one and the same mould,--all of the soft, effeminate nature of your father. They are not all like him! I am not so! What do I care about my son? And do you think that he cannot die as well for his father as you did for yours? Let him die! Let his death too spare me the disgraceful ransom! Strato, I am bereft now, I poor man! You have a son;--he shall be mine. For a son one must have! Happy Strato!

PHILOTAS.

Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!

ARIDAeUS.

Does he live still? Then I must have him back. But you--die! I will have him back, let what will come of it. And in exchange for you! Or I will have such disgrace and dishonour shown to your body--I will have it----

PHILOTAS.

The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it again!

ARIDAeUS.

Ah! What do I say?

PHILOTAS.

I pity you! Farewell, Strato! There, where all virtuous friends and all brave men are members of one blessed state--in Elysium we shall meet again! We also, king, shall meet again.

ARIDAeUS.

And reconciled! Prince!

PHILOTAS.

O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess of peace, thy offering!

ARIDAeUS.

Hear me, prince!

STRATO.

He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I cannot restrain myself. A wondrous youth!

ARIDAeUS.

Weep over him, weep! And I too! Come! I must have my son again. But do not oppose me, if I pay too high a ransom for him! In vain have we shed our streams of blood, in vain have we conquered lands. There he departs with our booty, the greater victor!--Come! Get me my son! And when I have him, I will no more be king. Do ye believe, ye men, that one does not grow weary of it? (_Exeunt_.)

EMILIA GALOTTI.

A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.

(_Translated by B. Dillon Boylan_.)

'Emilia Galotti' was commenced in 1757, when Lessing was at Leipzig, but was thrown aside for some years, until in 1767, when at Hamburg, he again took it up, intending to have it represented on the Hamburg stage. But on the failure of the theatrical enterprise with which he was connected, he once more abandoned it until 1771, when he again turned his attention to it, and completed it in February of the following year. It was immediately represented on the Brunswick stage.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Emilia Galotti. Odoardo _and_ \ > _parents of_ Emilia. Claudia Galotti, / Hettore Gonzaga, _Prince of Guastalla_. Marinelli, _the Prince's Chamberlain_. Camillo Rota, _one of the Prince's Councillors_. Conti, _an artist_. Count Appiani. Angelo, _a bandit_. Pirro _and sundry servants_.

EMILIA GALOTTI.