Well, well-an old friend has a privilege.
Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never
Can the Emperor pardon me: and if he could,
Yet I-I ne'er could let myself be pardon'd.
Had I foreknown what now has taken place,
That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me,
My first death-offering; and had the heart
Spoken to me, as now it has done-Gordon,
It may be, I might have bethought myself.
It may be too, I might not.-Might, or might not,
Is now an idle question. All too seriously
Has it begun, to end in nothing, Gordon !
Let it then have its course.

(stepping to the window.)

All dark and silent-at the castle too

All is now hush'd-Light me, Chamberlain !

(The groom of the chamber, who had entered during the last dialogue, and had been standing at a distance and listening to it with visible expressions of the deepest interest, advances in extreme agitation, and throws himself at the Duke's feet.)

And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish

My reconcilement with the Emperor.

Poor man! he hath a small estate in Cärnthen.

And fears it will be forfeited because

He's in my service. Am I then so poor,

That I no longer can indemnify

My servants? Well! to no one I employ
Means of compulsion. If 'tis thy belief

That fortune has fled from me, go! Forsake me.
This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me,
And then go over to thy Emperor.

Gordon, good night! I thing to make a long
Sleep of it; for the struggle and the turmoil

Of this last day or two was great. May't please you!
Take care that they awake me not too early.

[Exit Wallenstein, the Groom of the Chamber lighting him. Seni follows. Gordon remains on the darkened stage, following the Duke with his eye, till he dissappears at the farther end of the gallery; then by his gestures the old man expresses the depth of his anguish, and stands leaning against a pillar.]

SCENE IV.

Gordon, Butler, (at first behind the scenes.)

But. (not yet come into view of the stage) Here stand in silence till I give the signal.

Gor. (starts up) "Tis he, he has already brought the

murderers.

But. The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep. Gor. What shall I do, shall I attempt to save him?

Shall I call up the house? Alarm the guards?

But. (appears but scarcely on the stage) A light gleams hither from the corridor,

It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber.

Gor. But then I break my oath to the Emperor !

If he escape and strengthen the enemy,

Do I not hereby call down on my head

All the dread consequences?

But. (stepping forward) Hark! Who speaks there?
Gor. "Tis better, I resign it to the hands

Of Providence. For what am I, that I

Should take upon myself so great a deed?
I have not murder'd him, if he be murder'd ;
But all his rescue were my act and deed;
Mine-and whatever be the consequences,
I must sustain them,

But. (advances) I should know that voice.
Gor. Butler !

But. 'Tis Gordon. What do you want here ?
Was it so late, then, when the Duke dismiss'd you ?
Gor. Your hand bound up and in a scarf?

But.

"Tis wounded.

That Illo fought as he was frantic, till

At last we threw him on the ground.

Gor. (shuddering)

But. Is he in bed?

Gor. Ah, Butler !

But.

Both dead?

Is he? speak.

Gor. He shall not perish! Not through you! The

Heaven

Refuses your arm. See 'tis wounded!

But. There is no need of my arm.

Gor.

The most guilty

Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.

(The Groom of the Chamber advances from the
gallery, with his finger on his mouth, command-
ing silence.)

Gor. He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!
But. No! he shall die awake.

Gor.

(is going.)

His heart still cleaves

To earthly things; he's not prepar❜d to step

Into the presence of his God!

But. (going)

God's merciful!

Gor. (holds him) Grant him but this night's respite.

Works miracles. In one hour many thousands
Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they,
Thought follows thought within the human soul.
Only one hour! Your heart may change its purpose,
His heart may change its purpose-some new tidings
May come; some fortunate event, decisive,

May fall from Heaven and rescue him! O what
May not one hour achieve!

But.

You but remind me,

How precious every minute is!

(He stamps on the floor.)

SCENE V.

To these enter Macdonald, and Devereux, with the

Halberdiers.

Gor. (throwing himself between him and them) No, monster!

First over my dead body thou shalt tread.

I will not live to see the accursed deed!

But. (forcing him out of the way) Weak-hearted

dotard!

(Trumpets are heard in the distance.)

Dev. and Macd. Hark! The Swedish trumpets! The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten!

Gor. (rushes out) O God of mercy!

But. (calling after him)

Governor, to your post!

Gro. of the Cham. (hurries in) Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke sleeps.

Der. (with loud harsh voice) Friend, it is time now to

make larum.

Gro. of the Cham.

Murder!

But. Down with him!

Help!

Gro. of the Cham. (run through the body by Devereux, falls at the entrance of the gallery) Jesus Maria ! But. Burst the doors open!

(They rush over the body into the gallery-two doors are heard to crash one after the other— voices deadened by the distance-clash of arms -then all at once a profound silence.)

SCENE VI.

Coun. Ter. (with a light) Her bed-chamber is empty; she herself

Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too,
Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should
Be flown-But whither flown? We must call up
Every soul in the house. How will the Duke
Bear up against these worst bad tidings? O
If that my husband now were but return'd
Home from the banquet: Hark! I wonder whether
The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard

Voices and tread of feet here! I will go

And listen at the door. Hark! What is that? 'Tis hastening up the steps!