Chapter 11

_Enter_ Christopher.

_Chris._ So, this is the place of meeting--from hence we were to start for Franconia--and not here! Ulrica not yet come! Mighty well! our marriage but an hour old, and keep her husband waiting!

_Enter_ Ulrica.

So, you begin, madam--you torment already.

_Ul._ Why, if I do torment, Christopher its only to please you the more--it is upon my honour.

_Chris._ Please by tormenting! how, madam?

_Ul._ Ay, ask the god of love, if it isn't--

_Chris._ Yes; but where am I to find him?

_Ul._ True--where is love to be found?

SONG--_Ulrica._

I.

Where does the urchin love abide? Whence does he point his dart? Say, does he with the doves reside? Or dwells he in the heart?

II.

No fixt abode the traitor knows-- On sportive wings he flies; Awhile he dallies with the rose, Then smiles in lovers' eyes.

_Chris._ He does--in mine; and now I'll tell you--'Tis all out, and I've within me the true, real Roland blood. It seems, the strange old count had privately made aunt his wife; but his estate descending with his title, she thought she might support her rank, by getting for her niece a famous husband--and she has got one, hasn't she, Ulrica?

_Ul._ She has--but, seriously, think not that I staid from idle motives. Poor Agnes has found shelter in Corbey abbey; but the prince and the avenging knights, march in full force to batter down its walls.

_Chris._ Indeed!

_Ul._ Now--now I heard it from the noble Ravensburg, who seeks his father, to hear the whole of Agnes's hapless story. And my aunt's influence no more prevailing, perhaps the baron will relent--at least, I hope so.

_Chris._ So do I--and we won't stir.

_Ul._ No, not while one glimmering hope remains of Agnes's safety and her foes' defeat.

_Chris._ No, that we won't--but go, and plead in her behalf. [_Kissing_ Ulrica's _hand._

_Ul._ That I will; and doubt not, Christopher--Heaven still will guard the unprotected orphan!

[_Exit._

_Chris._ Never--never was couple so match'd! so much alike in all that's amiable and lovely! Oh, when we arrive in Franconia! I know one of our neighbours, who will be all envy--baron Donderdronckdickdorff; for though his wife treats him with the most sovereign contempt, he is still obliged to look up to her.

SONG--_Christopher._

I.

Baron Donderdronckdickdorff said, one summer's day, "Tho' wedlock's a word that revolts, Whatever our folks in Westphalia may say, I've a great mind to marry miss Quoltz. For of all the dear angels that live near the Weser, Miss Quoltz is the stoutest and tallest; Tho' of all German barons ambitious to please her, I know I'm the shortest and smallest." How I should like the marriage waltz To dance with thee, my lovely Quoltz!

II.

Poor Donderdronckdickdorff, with amorous phiz, On tiptoe imparted his flame, "Ah! baron!" she sigh'd, "what a pity it is, You are not half so long as your name!" "If names," said the baron, "were smaller or bigger, To suit ev'ry size at a pinch, Your name, dear miss Quoltz, to keep up to your figure, Wou'd measure six foot and an inch." How I should like, &c.

III.

The wedding-day fix'd, both the parties agreed, That the peasants should dance German waltzes, And drink to the future mix'd long-and-short breed Of the Donderdronckdickdorffs and Quoltzes. To the church, then, on foot, went the ace with his size-- "What's this crowd for?" cries one of the people. "For a baron, who's taking," an arch wag replies, "A morning's walk under the steeple." How I should like, &c.

IV.

Before supper, one knight, ere the honey-moon fled, They so quarrell'd some wives wou'd have struck him; But the baroness took up the lord of her bed, And over the chimney-piece stuck him. As the servant came in, said the baron, "you clown, Not a word when the guests come to sup: I have only been giving my wife a set-down, And she giving me a set-up." How I should like, &c. [_Exit._