Eliz. What? where I am afraidTo go myself, send others? That’s strange doctrine.I’ll be with you anon. [Goes up into the Hall.]

[Isentrudis enters with a basket.]

Isen. Why, here’s a weight—these cordials now, and simples,Want a stout page to bear them: yet her fancyIs still to go alone, to help herself.—Where will ’t all end? In madness, or the grave?No limbs can stand these drudgeries: no spiritThe fretting harrow which this ruffian priestCalls education—Ah! here comes our Count.

[Count Walter enters as from a journey.]

Too late, sir, and too seldom—Where have you beenThese four months past, while we are sold for bond-slavesUnto a peevish friar?

Wal. Why, my fair rosebud—A trifle overblown, but not less sweet—I have been pining for you, till my hairIs as gray as any badger’s.

Isen. I’ll not jest.

Wal. What? has my wall-eyed Saint shown you his temper?

Isen. The first of his peevish fancies was, that she should eat nothing which was not honestly and peaceably come by.

Wal. Why, I heard that you too had joined that sect.

Isen. And more fool I. But ladies are bound to set an example—while they are not bound to ask where everything comes from: with her, poor child, scruples and starvation were her daily diet; meal after meal she rose from table empty, unless the Landgrave nodded and winked her to some lawful eatable; till she that used to take her food like an angel, without knowing it, was thinking from morning to night whether she might eat this, that, or the other.

Wal. Poor Eves! if the world leaves you innocent, the Church will not. Between the devil and the director, you are sure to get your share of the apples of knowledge.

Isen. True enough. She complained to Conrad of her scruples, and he told her, that by the law was the knowledge of sin.

Wal. But what said Lewis?

Isen. As much bewitched as she, sir. He has told her, and more than her, that were it not for the laughter and ill-will of his barons, he would join her in the same abstinence. But all this is child’s play to the friar’s last outbreak.

Wal. Ah! the sermon which you all forgot, when the 

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