The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03. Коллектив авторов

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СКАЧАТЬ 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-earn'd honors!

      OCTAVIO.

      But tell me, did the Duke approve that measure?

      BUTLER.

      Himself impell'd 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, 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 received to the Duke only.

      His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd

      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

      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 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 Frauenburg, 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 СКАЧАТЬ