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Of gentler sort, and lovely, should be present

To feast our eyes.

Illo. (who has been standing in the attitude of meditation, to Butler, whom he leads a little on one side.)

And how came you to know

That the Count Galas joins us not?

But.

He importun'd me to remain behind.

Because

Illo. (with warmth) And you ?—You hold out firmly? (Grasping his hand with affection.)

But. After the obligation which the Duke

Had lay'd so newly on me

Illo.

A pleasant duty-Major General,

I wish you joy!

Iso. What, you mean, of his regiment?

Noble Butler !

I had forgotten

I hear, too, that, to make the gift still sweeter,
The Duke has given him the very same

In which he first saw service, and since then,
Work'd himself, step by step, thro' each preferment,
From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives
A precedent of hope, a spur of action

To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance

An old deserving soldier makes his way.

But. I am perplexed and doubtful, whether or no

I dare accept this your congratulation.

The Emperor has not yet confirm'd th' appointment.
Iso. Seize it, friend! Seize it! The hand which in

that post

Plac'd you, is strong enough to keep you there,

Spite of the Emperor and his Ministers !

Illo. Ay, if we would but so consider it!

If we would all of us consider it so!

The Emperor gives us nothing; from the Duke
Comes all-whate'er we hope, whate'er we have.

Iso. (to Illo) My noble brother! did I tell you how The Duke will satisfy my creditors?

Will be himself my banker for the future,

Make me once more a creditable man!

And this is now the third time, think of that!
This kingly-minded man has rescued me

From absolute ruin, and restor'd my honour.

Illo. O that his power but kept pace with his wishes! Why, friend! he'd give the whole world to his soldiers. But at Vienna, brother!-there's the grievance !— What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten His arm, and, where they can, to clip his pinions. Then these new dainty requisitions! these, Which this same Questenberg brings hither! But.

These requisitions of the Emperor

I too have heard about them; but I hope

The Duke will not draw back a single inch!

Illo. Not from his right most surely, unless first -From office!

Ay,

But. (shocked and confused) Know you aught then? You alarm me.

Iso. (at the same time with Butler, and in a hurrying
voice.) We should be ruin'd, every one of us!
No more!

Illo
Yonder I see our worthy friend* approaching

With the Lieutenant-General, Piccolomini.

But. (shaking his head significantly) I fear we shall not go hence as we came.

Spoken with a sneer.

SCENE II.

Enter Octavio Piccolomini, and Questenberg.

Oct. (still in the distance) Ay, ay! more still! still more new visitors !

Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp,

Which held at once so many heads of heroes.

(Approaching nearer.)

Welcome, Count Isolani !

Iso.

My noble brother,

Even now am I arriv'd; it had been else my duty-
Oct. And Colonel Butler-trust me, I rejoice
Thus to renew acquaintance with a man
Whose worth and services I know and honour.
See, see, my friend!

There might we place at once before our eyes
The sum of war's whole trade and mystery-

(To Questenberg, presenting Butler and Isolani at
the same time to him.)

These two the total sum-Strength and Despatch. Ques. (to Octavio.) And lo! betwixt them both experienc'd Prudence!

Oct. (presenting Questenberg to Butler and Isolani.) The Chamberlain and War-commissioner Questenberg, The bearer of the Emperor's behests,

The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers,

We honour in this noble visitor. (Universal silence.) Illo. (moving towards Questenberg.) 'Tis not the first time, noble Minister,

You have shown our camp this honour.

Ques.

Once before

I stood before these colours.

Illo. Perchance, too, you remember where that was. It was at Znäim* in Moravia, where

You did present yourself upon the part

Of th' Emperor, to supplicate our Duke

That he would straight assume the chief command.
Ques. To supplicate? Nay, noble General!

So far extended neither my commission

(At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal.

Illo. Well, well then-to compel him, if you choose.
I can remember me right well, Count Tilly
Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.
Bavaria lay all open to the enemy,

Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing
Onwards into the very heart of Austria.
At that time you and Werdenberg appear'd
Before our General, storming him with prayers,
And menacing the Emperor's displeasure,

Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.

Iso. (steps up to them.) Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough,

Wherefore with your commission of to-day

You were not all too willing to remember
Your former one,

Ques.

Why not, Count Isolan?
No contradiction sure exists between them.
It was the urgent business of that time
To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand;
And my commission of to-day instructs me
To free her from her good friends and protectors.
Illo. A worthy office! After with our blood
We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon,

* A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high road from Vienna to Prague.

To be swept out of it is all our thanks,

The sole reward of all our hard-won victories.

Ques. Unless that wretched land be doom'd to suffer Only a change of evils, it must be

Freed from the scourge alike of friend and foe.

Illo. What? 'Twas a favourable year; the Boors Can answer fresh demands already.

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If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds—

Iso. The war maintains the war. Are the Boors ruin'd, The Emperor gains so many more new soldiers. Ques. And is the poorer by even so many subjects.

Iso. Poh! We are all his subjects.

Ques. Yet with a difference, General! The one fill With profitable industry the purse,

The others are well skill'd to empty it.

The sword has made the Emperor poor; the plough
Must reinvigorate his resources.

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Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see

(examining with his eye the dress and ornaments of Questenberg)

Good store of gold that still remains uncoin'd.

Ques. Thank Heaven! that means have been found out

to hide

Some little from the fingers of the Croats.

Illo. There! The Stawata and the Martinitz,

On whom the Emperor heaps his gifts and graces,

To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians

Those minions of court favour, those court harpies,

Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens

Driven from their house and home-who reap no harvests

Save in the general calamity—

Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock

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