WEISLINGEN: A wretched fever has dried my very marrow. No rest for
me, day or night! Goetz haunts my very dreams. He is a prisoner, and
yet I tremble before him. (_Enter_ MARIE.) Oh, heaven! Marie's spirit,
to tell me of her death!
MARIE: Weislingen, I am no spirit. I have come to beg of you my
brother's life.
WEISLINGEN: Marie! You, angel of heaven, bring with you the tortures
of hell. The breath of death is upon me, and you come to throw me into
despair!
MARIE: My brother is ill in prison. His wounds--his age----
WEISLINGEN: Enough. Franz! (_Enter_ FRANZ _in great excitement_.)
The papers there! (FRANZ _hands him a sealed packet_.) Here is your
brother's death-warrant; and thus I tear it. He lives. Do not weep,
Franz; there's hope for the living.
FRANZ: You cannot, you must die! Poison from your wife. [_Rushes
to the window, and throws himself out into the river_.
WEISLINGEN: Woe to me! Poison from my wife! Franz seduced by the
infamous woman! I am dying; and in my agony throb the tortures of hell.
MARIE (_kneeling):_ Merciful God, have pity on him!