Ter. (as he is going, to Butler.) You come though to

Gor. (looking after them) Unhappy man! How free

from all foreboding!

They rush into the out spread net of murder,

In the blind drunkenness of victory;

I have no pity for their fate. This Illo,

This overflowing and fool-hardy villain

That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's blood.
But. Do as he order'd you. Send round patroles,
Take measures for the citadel's security;

When they are within I close the castle gate,

That nothing may transpire.

Gor. (with earnest anxiety) Nay, stop; first tell me

Oh! haste not so!

You have heard already,

But. To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night Alone is ours. They make good expeditions, But we will make still greater. Fare you well. Gor. Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler,

I pray you, promise me!

But.

The sun has set;

A fateful evening doth descend upon us,

And brings on their long night! Their evil stars

Deliver them unarm'd into our hands,

And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes
The dagger at their heart shall rouse them. Well,

The Duke was ever a great calculator;

His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board,

To move and station, as his game requir'd.

Other men's honour, dignity, good name,

Did he shift like pawns, and made no conscience of it:
Still calculating, calculating still,

And yet at last his calculation proves

Erroneous; the whole game is lost; and lo!
His own life will be found among the forfeits.

Gor. O think not of his errors now; remember
His greatness, his munificence, think on all
The lovely features of his character,

On all the noble exploits of his life,

And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen
Arrest the lifted sword.

But.

It is too late.

I suffer not myself to feel compassion,
Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now:
(grasping Gordon's hand.)

Gordon! "Tis not my hatred (I pretend not

To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him),
Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me
To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate.
Hostile concurrences of many events
Control and subjugate me to the office.
In vain the human being meditates

Free action. He is but the wire work'd* puppet
Of the blind power, which out of his own choice
Creates for him a dread necessity.

*We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a sentiment in the mouth of any character.-T.

What too would it avail him, if there were
A something pleading for him in my heart-
Still I must kill him.

Gor.

If your heart speak to you,
Follow its impulse. "Tis the voice of God.

Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous
Bedew'd with blood, his blood? Believe it not !

But. You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it

happen,

That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten
With such forc'd marches hitherward?

Fain would I

Have given him to the Emperor's mercy.-Gordon!

I do not wish his blood-But I must ransom
The honour of my word-it lies in pledge-
And he must die, or

(passionately grasping Gordon's hand.)
Listen then, and know!

I am dishonour'd if the Duke escape us.
Gor. O! to save such a man-

But.

Gor.

What!

It is worth

A sacrifice.-Come, friend! be noble-minded!

Our own heart, and not other men's opinions,
Forms our true honour.

But. (with a cold and haughty air)

great lord,

This Duke-and I am but of mean importance.

This is what you would say? Wherein concerns it
The world at large, you mean to hint to me,
Whether the man of low extraction keeps
Or blemishes his honour-

So that the man of princely rank be sav'd.
We all do stamp our value on ourselves.

The price we challenge for ourselves is given us.

He is a

There does not live on earth the man so station'd,
That I despise myself compar'd with him.
Man is made great or little by his own will;
Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies.
Gor. I am endeavouring to move a rock.
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings.
I cannot hinder you, but may some god
Rescue him from you!

[Exit Gordon.

SCENE IX.

But. (alone) I treasur'd my good name all my life

long;

The Duke has cheated me of life's best jewel,

So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon!

He prizes above all his fealty;

His conscious soul accuses him of nothing;

In opposition to his own soft heart
He subjugates himself to an iron duty;
Me in a weaker moment passion warp'd;

I stand beside him, and must feel myself

The worse man of the two. What, though the world

Is ignorant of my purpos'd treason, yet

One man does know it, and can prove it too—

High-minded Piccolomini !

There lives the man who can dishonour me!

This ignominy blood alone can cleanse!

Duke Friedland, thou or I—Into my own hands

Fortune delivers me-The dearest thing a man has is

himself.

(The curtain drops.)

ACT IV.

Scene-Butler's Chamber.

SCENE I.

Butler, Major, and Geraldin.

But. Find me twelve strong dragoons, arm them with pikes,

For there must be no firing

Conceal them somewhere near the banquet-room,
And soon as the desert is serv'd up, rush all in
And cry-Who is loyal to the Emperor?
I will overturn the table-while you attack
Illo and Tertsky, and despatch them both.
The castle-palace is well barr'd and guarded,
That no intelligence of this proceeding

May make its way to the Duke.-Go instantly;
Have you yet sent for Captain Devereux
And the Macdonald ?-

Ger.

They'll be here anon.

[Exit Geraldin.

But. Here's no room for delay. The citizens
Declare for him; a dizzy drunken spirit
Possesses the whole town. They see in the Duke
A Prince of peace, a founder of new ages

And golden times. Arms too have been given out
By the town-council, and a hundred citizens
Have volunteer'd themselves to stand on guard.
Despatch then be the word. For enemies
Threaten us from without and from within.