! 'tis deadly.

Clara. Not speak his name? How? Not Egmont's name? Is it not on every
tongue? Where stands it not inscribed? Often have I read it emblazoned
with all its letters among these stars. Not utter it? What mean ye?
Friends! good, kind neighbours, ye are dreaming; collect yourselves.
Gaze not upon me with those fixed and anxious looks! Cast not such timid
glances on every side! I but give utterance to the wish of all. Is not
my voice the voice of your own hearts? Who, in this fearful night, ere
he seeks his restless couch, but on bended knee will, in earnest prayer,
seek to wrest his life as a cherished boon from heaven? Ask each other!
Let each ask his own heart! And who but exclaims with me,--"Egmont's
liberty, or death!"

Jetter. God help us! This is a sad business.

Clara. Stay! Stay! Shrink not away at the sound of his name, to meet
whom ye were wont to press forward so joyously!--When rumour announced
his approach, when the cry arose, "Egmont comes! He comes from
Ghent!"--then happy indeed were those citizens who dwelt in the streets
through which he was to pass. And when the neighing of his steed was
heard, did not every one throw aside his work, while a ray of hope and
joy, like a sunbeam from his countenance, stole over the toil-worn faces
that peered from every window. Then, as ye stood in the doorways, ye
would lift up your children in your arms, and pointing to him, exclaim:
"See, that is Egmont, he who towers above the rest! 'Tis from bird that
ye must look for better times than those your poor fathers have known."
Let not your children inquire at some future day, "Where is he? Where
are the better times ye promised us?"--Thus we waste the time in idle
words! do nothing,--betray him.

Soest. Shame on thee, Brackenburg! Let her not run on thus! Prevent the
mischief!

Brackenburg. Dear Clara! Let us go! What will your Mother say?
Perchance--

Clara. Thinkest thou I am a child, or frantic? What avails
perchance?--With no vain hope canst thou hide from me this dreadful
certainty... Ye shall hear me and ye will: for I see it, ye are
overwhelmed, ye cannot hearken to the voice of your own hearts. Through
the present peril cast but one glance into the past,--the recent past.
Send your thoughts forward into the future. Could ye live, would ye
live, were he to perish? With him expires the last breath of freedom.
What was he not to you? For whose sake did he expose himself to the
direst perils? His b