No More Learning

But there is pride, and passion's war within,
Which give my breast vitality to suffer,
As it hath suffered through long years till now.
My father's wrath extends beyond the grave,
And haunts me in the shape of Stralenheim!
He revels in my fathers palace--I-- 20
Exiled--disherited--a nameless outcast!
[_Werner pauses_.
My boy, too, where and what is he? --my father
Might well have limited his curse to me.
If that my heritage had passed to Ulric,
I had not mourned my own less happy lot.
No--No--all's past--all torn away.

_Josepha_. Dear Werner,
Oh banish these discomfortable thoughts
That thus contend within you: we are poor,
So we have ever been--but I remember
The time when thy Josepha's smile could turn 30
Thy heart to hers--despite of every ill.
So let it now--alas! you hear me not.

_Werner_. What said you? --let it pass--no matter what--
Think me not churlish, Sweet, I am not well.
My brain is hot and busy--long fatigue
And last night's watching have oppressed me much.

_Josepha_. Then get thee to thy couch. I do perceive
In thy pale cheek and in thy bloodshot eye
A strange distemperature--nay, as a boon,
I do entreat thee to thy rest.

_Werner_. My _rest! _ 40
Well--be it so--Good Night!

_Josepha_. Thy hand is burning;
I will prepare a potion:--peace be with thee--
Tomorrow's dawn I trust will find thee healthful;
And, then, our Ulric may perchance--

_Werner_. _Our_ Ulric--thine and mine--our only boy--
Curse on his father and his father's Sire!
(For, if it is so, I will render back
A curse that Heaven will hear as well as his),
Our Ulric by his father's fault or folly,
And by my father's unrelenting pride, 50
Is at this hour, perchance, undone. This night
That shelters us may shower it's wrath on him--
A homeless beggar for his parent's sin--
Thy sin and mine--Thy child and mine atones--
Our Ulric--Woman! --I'll to no bed to-night--
There is no pillow for my thoughts.

_Josepha_. What words,
What fearful words are these! what may they mean?