Egmont. It is otherwise in love. Thou dost deserve it because thou hast not sought it—and, for the most part, those only obtain love who seek it not.       

         Clara. Is it from thine own experience that thou hast learned this? Didst thou make that proud remark in reference to thyself? Thou, whom all the people love?       

         Egmont. Would that I had done something for them! That I could do anything for them! It is their own good pleasure to love me.       

         Clara. Thou hast doubtless been with the Regent to-day?       

         Egmont. I have.       

         Clara. Art thou upon good terms with her?       

         Egmont So it would appear. We are kind and serviceable to each other.       

         Clara. And in thy heart?       

         Egmont. I like her. True, we have each our own views; but that is nothing to the purpose. She is an excellent woman, knows with whom she has to deal, and would be penetrating enough were she not quite so suspicious. I give her plenty of employment, because she is always suspecting some secret motive in my conduct when, in fact, I have none.       

         Clara. Really none?       

         Egmont. Well, with one little exception, perhaps. All wine deposits lees in the cask in the course of time. Orange furnishes her still better         entertainment, and is a perpetual riddle. He has got the credit of harbouring some secret design; and she studies his brow to discover his thoughts, and his steps, to learn in what direction they are bent.       

         Clara. Does she dissemble?       

         Egmont. She is Regent—and do you ask?       

         Clara. Pardon me; I meant to say, is she false?       

         Egmont. Neither more nor less than everyone who has his own objects to attain.       

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