BUTLER.
Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness
For which I never can forgive myself,
Lieutenant-general! Yes; I have ambition.
Ne'er was I able to endure contempt.
It stung me to the quick that birth and title
Should have more weight than merit has in the army.
I would fain not be meaner than my equal,
So in an evil hour I let myself
Be tempted to that measure. It was folly!
But yet so hard a penance it deserved not.
It might have been refused; but wherefore barb
And venom the refusal with contempt?
Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn
The gray-haired man, the faithful veteran?
Why to the baseness of his parentage
Refer him with such cruel roughness, only
Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself?
But nature gives a sting e'en to the worm
Which wanton power treads on in sport and insult.
OCTAVIO.
You must have been calumniated. Guess you
The enemy who did you this ill service?
BUTLER.
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-earned honors!
OCTAVIO.
But tell me, did the duke approve that measure?
BUTLER.
Himself impelled me to it, used his interest
In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.
OCTAVIO.
Ay! are you sure of that?
BUTLER.
I read the letter.
OCTAVIO.
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.
BUTLER.
Ha! what is this?
OCTAVIO.
I fear me, Colonel Butler,
An infamous game have they been playing with you.
The duke, you say, impelled 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 clown in it.
You have no enemy, no persecutor;
There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe
The insult you received to the duke only.
His aim is clear and palpable. He wished
To tear you from your emperor: he hoped
To gain from your revenge what he well knew
(What your long tried fidelity convinced him)
He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason.
A blind tool would he make you, in contempt
Use you, as means of most abandoned ends.
He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded
In luring you away from that good path
On which you had been journeying forty years!
BUTLER (his voice trembling).
Can e'er the emperor's majesty forgive me?
OCTAVIO.
More than forgive you. He would fain compensate
For that affront, and most unmerited grievance
Sustained 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 labors inwardly
with violent emotions; tries to speak and cannot. At length
he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.
OCTAVIO.
What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.
BUTLER.
Take it.
OCTAVIO.
But to what purpose? Calm yourself.
BUTLER.
O take it!
I am no longer worthy of this sword.
OCTAVIO.
Receive it then anew, from my hands-and
Wear it with honor for the right cause ever.
BUTLER.
Perjure myself to such a gracious sovereign?
OCTAVIO.
You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the duke!
BUTLER.
Break off from him.
OCTAVIO.
What now? Bethink thyself.
BUTLER (no longer governing his emotion).
Only break off from him? He dies! he dies!
OCTAVIO.
Come after me to Frauenberg, where now
All who are loyal are assembling under
Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others
I've brought to a remembrance of their duty
This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.
BUTLER (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to
OCTAVIO with resolved countenance).
Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak
Of honor to you, who once broke his troth.
OCTAVIO.
He who repents so deeply of it dares.
BUTLER.
Then leave me here upon my word of honor!
OCTAVIO.
What's your design?
BUTLER.
Leave me and my regiment.
OCTAVIO.
I have full confidence in you. But tell me
What are you brooding?
BUTLER.
That the deed will tell you.
Ask me no more at present. Trust me.
Ye may trust safely. By the living God,
Ye give him over, not to his good angel!
Farewell.
[Exit BUTLER.
SERVANT (enters with a billet).
A stranger left it, and is gone.
The prince-duke's horses wait for you below.
[Exit SERVANT.
OCTAVIO (reads).
"Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolani."
-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 VII.
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.
OCTAVIO (advances to him).
I am going off, my son.
[Receiving no answer, he takes his hands
My son, farewell.
MAX.
Farewell.
OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt soon follow me?
MAX.
I follow thee?
Thy way is crooked-it is not my way.
[OCTAVIO drops his hand and starts back.
Oh, 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 over him