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Oct. You must have been calumniated. Guess you The enemy, who did you this ill service?

But. Be't who it will-a most low-hearted scoundrel, Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard, Some young squire of some ancient family,

In whose light I may stand, some envious knave,
Stung to his soul by my fair self-earn'd honours !

Oct. But tell me! Did the Duke approve that measure?

But. Himself impell'd me to it, used his interest In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship. Oct. Ay? Are you sure of that?

But.

I read the letter.

Oct. And so did I-but the contents were different.

(Butler is suddenly struck.)

By chance I'm in possession of that letter

Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

(He gives him the letter.)

But. Ha! what is this?

Oct.

I fear me, Colonel Butler,

An infamous game have they been playing with you.
The Duke, you say, impell'd you to this measure?
Now, in this letter talks he in contempt

Concerning you; counsels the minister

To give sound chastisement to your conceit,
For so he calls it.

(Butler reads through the letter, his knees tremble,
he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it.)

You have no enemy, no persecutor;
There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe
The insult you receiv'd to the Duke only.
His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd
To tear you from your Emperor-he hop'd
To gain from your revenge what he well knew

(What your long-tried fidelity convinc'd him)

He n'er could dare expect from your calm reason.
A blind tool would he make you, in contempt
Use you as means of most abandon'd ends.

He has gain'd his point. Too well has he succeeded

In luring you away from that good path

On which you had been journeying forty years!

But. (his voice trembling) Can e'er the Emperor's Majesty forgive me?

Oct. More than forgive you. He would fain compensate For that affront, and most unmerited grievance

Sustain'd by a deserving, gallant veteran.

From his free impulse he confirms the present,
Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose.
The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

(Butler attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labours inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to Piccolomini.) Oct. What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend. But. Take it.

Oct. But to what purpose? Calm yourself.

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I am no longer worthy of this sword.

Oct. Receive it then anew from my hands-and Wear it with honour for the right cause ever.

But.

reign!

Perjure myself to such a gracious Sove

Oct. You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the

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Bethink thyself.

But. (no longer governing his emotion)

Only break off from him!-He dies! he dies!

Oct. Come after me to Frauenberg, where now All, who are loyal, are assembling under

Counts Altringer and Galas.

Many others

I've brought to a remembrance of their duty.

This night be sure, that you escape from Pilsen.

But. (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to Octavio with resolved countenance.) Count Piccolomini! Dare that man speak

Of honour to you, who once broke his troth.
Oct. He, who repents so deeply of it, dares.

But. Then leave me here, upon my word of honour!
Oct. What's your design?

But.

Leave me and my regiment.

Oct. I have full confidence in you. But tell me What are you brooding?

But.

That the deed will tell you.

Ask me no more at present. Trust to me.
Ye may trust safely. By the living God
Ye give him over, not to his good angel!
Farewell!

Ser. (enters with a billet)

and is gone.

[Exit Butler. A stranger left it,

[Exit Servant.

The Prince-Duke's horses wait for you below.

Oct. (reads)" Be sure, make haste!

Isolan."

Your faithful

-O that I had but left this town behind me. To split upon a rock so near the haven!Away! This is no longer a safe place for me! Where can my son be tarrying?

SCENE VI.

Octavio and Max. Piccolomini.

(Max. enters almost in a state of derangement from extreme agitation, his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance, and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion. He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly at the object directly before him.)

Oct. (advances to him) I am going off, my son.

(Receiving no answer, he takes his hand.) My son, farewell.

Max. Farewell.

Oct.

Мах.

Thou wilt soon follow me?

I follow thee?

Thy way is crooked-it is not my way.

(Octavio drops his hand, and starts back.)

O, hadst thou been but simple and sincere,
Ne'er had it come to this-all had stood otherwise.
He had not done that foul and horrible deed,
The virtuous had retained their influence o'er him:
He had not fallen into the snares of villains.
Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice
Did'st creep hehind him—lurking for thy prey?
O, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!
Thou misery-making demon, it is thou
That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth,

Sustainer of the world, had sav'd us all!
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!
Wallenstein has deceiv'd me-O, most foully!
But thou hast acted not much better.

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Max. (rises, and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion) Was't possible? had'st thou the heart,

my father,

Had'st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths,

With cold premeditated purpose? Thou

Had'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty,

Rather than sav'd? Thou risest by his fall.
Octavio, 'twill not please me.

Oct.

God in Heaven!

Max. O, woe is me! sure I have chang'd my nature. How comes suspicion here-in the free soul?

Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all

Lied to me, all what I e'er lov'd or honour'd.
No! No! Not all! She-she yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the Heavens!
Deceit is every where, hypocrisy,

Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:
The single holy spot is our love,

The only unprofan'd in human nature.

Oct. Max!-we will go together. 'Twill be better. Max. What? ere I've taken a last parting leave, The very last-no never!

Oct.

Spare thyself

The pang of necessary separation.
Come with me! Come, my son !

(Attempts to take him with him.)

Max. No! as sure as God lives, no!

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