The MASTER OF THE CELLAR, advancing with NEUMANN, SERVANTS passing backwards and forwards.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The best wine! Oh, if my old mistress, his lady mother, could but see these wild goings on she would turn herself round in her grave. Yes, yes, sir officer! 'tis all down the hill with this noble house! no end, no moderation! And this marriage with the duke's sister, a splendid connection, a very splendid connection! but I will tell you, sir officer, it looks no good.
NEUMANN. Heaven forbid! Why, at this very moment the whole prospect is in bud and blossom!
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. You think so? Well, well! much may be said on that head.
FIRST SERVANT (comes). Burgundy for the fourth table.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Now, sir lieutenant, if this aint the seventieth flask —
FIRST SERVANT. Why, the reason is, that German lord, Tiefenbach, sits at that table.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (continuing his discourse to NEUMANN). They are soaring too high. They would rival kings and electors in their pomp and splendor; and wherever the duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious master, the count, loiter on the brink – (to the SERVANTS). What do you stand there listening for? I will let you know you have legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to the flasks! Look there! Count Palfi has an empty glass before him!
RUNNER (comes). The great service-cup is wanted, sir, that rich gold cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The count says you know which it is.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Ay! that was made for Frederick's coronation by the artist William – there was not such another prize in the whole booty at Prague.
RUNNER. The same! – a health is to go round in him.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (shaking his head while he fetches and rinses the cups). This will be something for the tale-bearers – this goes to Vienna.
NEUMANN. Permit me to look at it. Well, this is a cup indeed! How heavy! as well it may be, being all gold. And what neat things are embossed on it! how natural and elegant they look! There, on the first quarter, let me see. That proud amazon there on horseback, she that is taking a leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries on a wand a hat together with a banner, on which there's a goblet represented. Can you tell me what all this signifies?
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The woman you see there on horseback is the Free Election of the Bohemian Crown. That is signified by the round hat and by that fiery steed on which she is riding. The hat is the pride of man; for he who cannot keep his hat on before kings and emperors is no free man.
NEUMANN. But what is the cup there on the banner.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. The cup signifies the freedom of the Bohemian Church, as it was in our forefathers' times. Our forefathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the pope this noble privilege; for the pope, you know, will not grant the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian values nothing beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, and has cost the Bohemians their precious blood in many and many a battle.
NEUMANN. And what says that chart that hangs in the air there, over it all?
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. That signifies the Bohemian letter-royal which we forced from the Emperor Rudolph – a precious, never to be enough valued parchment, that secures to the new church the old privileges of free ringing and open psalmody. But since he of Steiermark has ruled over us that is at an end; and after the battle at Prague, in which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, our faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar – and our brethren look at their homes over their shoulders; but the letter-royal the emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors.
NEUMANN. Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are deep read in the chronicles of your country.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. So were my forefathers, and for that reason were they minstrels, and served under Procopius and Ziska. Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought for a good cause though. There! carry it up!
NEUMANN. Stay! let me but look at this second quarter. Look there! That is, when at Prague Castle, the imperial counsellors, Martinitz and Stawata, were hurled down head over heels. 'Tis even so! there stands Count Thur who commands it.
[RUNNER takes the service-cup and goes off with it.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Oh, let me never more hear of that day. It was the three-and-twentieth of May in the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and eighteen. It seems to me as it were but yesterday – from that unlucky day it all began, all the heartaches of the country. Since that day it is now sixteen years, and there has never once been peace on the earth.
[Health drunk aloud at the second table.
The Prince of Weimar! Hurrah!
[At the third and fourth tables.
Long live Prince William! Long live Duke Bernard! Hurrah!
[Music strikes up.
FIRST SERVANT. Hear 'em! Hear 'em! What an uproar!
SECOND SERVANT (comes in running). Did you hear? They have drunk the Prince of Weimar's health.
THIRD SERVANT. The Swedish chief commander!
FIRST SERVANT (speaking at the same time). The Lutheran!
SECOND SERVANT. Just before, when Count Deodati gave out the emperor's health, they were all as mum as a nibbling mouse.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. Po, po! When the wine goes in strange things come out. A good servant hears, and hears not! You should be nothing but eyes and feet, except when you are called to.
[To the RUNNER, to whom he gives secretly a flask of wine, keeping his eye on the MASTER OF THE CELLAR, standing between him and the
Quick, Thomas! before the Master of the Cellar runs this way; 'tis a flask of Frontignac! Snapped it up at the third table. Canst go off with it?
RUNNER (hides it in his, pocket). All right!
[Exit the Second Servant.
THIRD SERVANT (aside to the FIRST). Be on the hark, Jack! that we may have right plenty to tell to Father Quivoga. He will give us right plenty of absolution in return for it.
FIRST SERVANT. For that very purpose I am always having something to do behind Illo's chair. He is the man for speeches to make you stare with.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to NEUMANN). Who, pray, may that swarthy man be, he with the cross, that is chatting so confidently with Esterhats?
NEUMANN. Ay, he too is one of those to whom they confide too much. He calls himself Maradas; a Spaniard is he.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (impatiently). Spaniard! Spaniard! I tell you, friend, nothing good comes of those Spaniards. All these outlandish fellows are little better than rogues.
NEUMANN. Fy, fy! you should not say so, friend. There are among them our very best generals, and those on whom the duke at this moment relies the most.
[Taking the flask out of RUNNER'S pocket.
My son, it will be broken to pieces in your pocket.
[TERZKY hurries in, fetches away the paper, and calls to a servant for pen and ink, and goes to the back of the stage.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to the SERVANTS). The lieutenant-general stands up. Be on the watch. Now! They break up. Off, and move back the forms.
[They rise at all the tables, the SERVANTS hurry off the front of the stage to the tables; part of the guests come forward.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI enters, in conversation with MARADAS, and both place themselves quite on the edge of the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the side directly opposite, MAX. PICCOLOMINI, by himself, lost in thought, and taking no part in anything that is going forward. The middle space between both, but rather more distant from the edge of the stage, is filled up by BUTLER, ISOLANI,
ISOLANI (while the company is coming forward). Good-night, good-night, Kolatto! Good-night, lieutenant-general! I should rather say good-morning.
GOETZ (to TIEFENBACH). Noble brother! (making the usual compliment after meals).
TIEFENBACH. Ay! 'twas a royal feast indeed.
GOETZ. Yes, my lady countess understands these matters. Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul, taught her! Ah! that was a housewife for you!
TIEFENBACH. There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting out a table.
OCTAVIO (aside to MARADAS). Do me the favor to talk to me – talk of what you will – or of nothing. Only preserve the appearance at least of talking. I would not wish to stand by myself, and yet I conjecture that there will be goings on here worthy of our attentive observation. (He continues to fix his eye on the whole following scene.)
ISOLANI (on the point of going). Lights! lights!
TERZKY (advances with the paper to ISOLANI). Noble brother; two minutes longer! Here is something to subscribe.
ISOLANI. Subscribe as much as you like – but you must excuse me from reading it.
TERZKY. There is no need. It is the oath which you have already read. Only a few marks of your pen!
[ISOLANI hands over the paper to OCTAVIO respectfully.
TERZKY. Nay, nay, first come, first served. There is no precedence here.
[OCTAVIO runs over the paper with apparent indifference.
TERZKY watches him at some distance.
GOETZ (to TERZKY). Noble count! with your permission – good-night.
TERKZY. Where's the hurry? Come, one other composing draught. (To the SERVANTS). Ho!
GOETZ. Excuse me – aint able.
TERZKY. A thimble-full.
GOETZ. Excuse me.
TIEFENBACH (sits down). Pardon me, nobles! This standing does not agree with me.
TERZKY. Consult your own convenience, general.
TIEFENBACH. Clear at head, sound in stomach – only my legs won't carry me any longer.
ISOLANI (pointing at his corpulence). Poor legs! how should they! Such an unmerciful load!
[OCTAVIO subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper to TERZKY, who gives it to ISOLANI; and he goes to the table to sign his name.
TIEFENBACH. 'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought it on. Out in all weathers – ice and snow – no help for it. I shall never get the better of it all the days of my life.
GOETZ. Why, in simple verity, your Swedes make no nice inquiries about the season.
TERZKY (observing ISOLANI, whose hand trembles excessively so that he can scarce direct his pen). Have you had that ugly complaint long, noble brother? Despatch it.
ISOLANI. The sins of youth! I have already tried the chalybeate waters. Well – I must bear it.
[TERZKY gives the paper to MARADAS; he steps to the table to subscribe.
OCTAVIO (advancing to BUTLER). You are not over-fond of the orgies of Bacchus, colonel! I have observed it. You would, I think, find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of a battle than of a feast.
BUTLER. I must confess 'tis not in my way.
OCTAVIO (stepping nearer to him friendlily). Nor in mine neither, I can assure you; and I am not a little glad, my much-honored Colonel Butler, that we agree so well in our opinions. A half-dozen good friends at most, at a small round table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts, and a rational conversation – that's my taste.
BUTLER. And mine, too, when it can be had.
[The paper comes to TIEFENBACH, who glances over it at the same time with GOETZ and KOLATTO. MARADAS in the meantime returns to OCTAVIO.
All this takes places, the conversation with BUTLER proceeding uninterrupted.
OCTAVIO (introducing MADARAS to BUTLER.) Don Balthasar Maradas! likewise a man of our stamp, and long ago your admirer.
[BUTLER bows.
OCTAVIO (continuing). You are a stranger here – 'twas but yesterday you arrived – you are ignorant of the ways and means here. 'Tis a wretched place. I know at your age one loves to be snug and quiet. What if you move your lodgings? Come, be my visitor. (BUTLER makes a low bow.) Nay, without compliment! For a friend like you I have still a corner remaining.
BUTLER (coldly). Your obliged humble servant, my lord lieutenant-general.
[The paper comes to BUTLER, who goes to the table to subscribe it.
The front of the stage is vacant, so that both the PICCOLOMINIS, each on the side where he had been from the commencement of the SCENE, remain alone.
OCTAVIO (after having some time watched his son in silence, advances somewhat nearer to him). You were long absent from us, friend!
MAX. I – urgent business detained me.
OCTAVIO. And, I observe, you are still absent!
MAX. You know this crowd and bustle always makes me silent.
OCTAVIO (advancing still nearer). May I be permitted to ask what the business was that detained you? Terzky knows it without asking.
MAX. What does Terzky know?
OCTAVIO. He was the only one who did not miss you.
ISOLANI (who has been attending to them for some distance steps up). Well done, father! Rout out his baggage! Beat up his quarters! there is something there that should not be.
TERZKY (with the paper). Is there none wanting? Have the whole subscribed?
OCTAVIO. All.
TERZKY (calling aloud). Ho! Who subscribes?
BUTLER (to TERZKY). Count the names. There ought to be just thirty.
TERZKY. Here is a cross.
TIEFENBACH. That's my mark!
ISOLANI. He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and is honored by Jews as well as Christians.
OCTAVIO (presses on to MAX.). Come, general! let us go. It is late.
TERZKY. One Piccolomini only has signed.
ISOLANI (pointing to MAX.). Look! that is your man, that statue there, who has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the whole evening.
[MAX. receives the paper from TERZKY, which he looks upon vacantly.
To these enter ILLO from the inner room. He has in his hand a golden service-cup, and is extremely distempered with drinking;
GOETZ and BUTLER follow him, endeavoring to keep him back.
ILLO. What do you want! Let me go.
GOETZ and BUTLER. Drink no more, Illo! For heaven's sake, drink no more.
ILLO (goes up to OCTAVIO, and shakes him cordially by the hand, and then drinks). Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge be drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough you never loved me – devil take me! and I never loved you! I am always even with people in that way! Let what's past be past – that is, you understand – forgotten! I esteem you infinitely. (Embracing him repeatedly.) You have not a dearer friend on earth than I, but that you know. The fellow that cries rogue to you calls me villain, and I'll strangle him! my dear friend!
TERZKY (whispering to him). Art in thy senses? For heaven's sake, Illo, think where you are!
ILLO (aloud). What do you mean? There are none but friends here, are there? (Looks round the whole circle with a jolly and triumphant air.) Not a sneaker amongst us, thank heaven.
TERZKY (to BUTLER, eagerly). Take him off with you, force him off, I entreat you, Butler!
BUTLER (to ILLO). Field-marshal! a word with you. (Leads to the side-board.)
ILLO (cordially). A thousand for one. Fill; fill it once more up to the brim. To this gallant man's health!
ISOLANI (to MAX., who all the while has been staring on the paper with fixed but vacant eyes). Slow and sure, my noble brother! Hast parsed it all yet? Some words yet to go through? Ha?
MAX. (waking as from a dream). What am I to do?
TERZKY, and at the same time ISOLANI. Sign your name. (OCTAVIO directs his eyes on him with intense anxiety).
MAX. (returns the paper). Let it stay till to-morrow. It is business; to-day I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me to-morrow.
TERZKY. Nay, collect yourself a little.
ISOLANI. Awake man, awake! Come, thy signature, and have done with it! What! Thou art the youngest in the whole company, and would be wiser than all of us together! Look there! thy father has signed; we have all signed.
TERZKY (to OCTAVIO). Use your influence. Instruct him.
OCTAVIO. My son is at the age of discretion.
ILLO (leaves the service-cup on the sideboard). What's the dispute?
TERZKY. He declines subscribing the paper.
MAX. I say it may as well stay till to-morrow.
ILLO. It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it – and so must you. You must subscribe.
MAX. Illo, good-night!
ILLO. No! you come not off so! The duke shall learn who are his friends. (All collect round ILLO and MAX.)
MAX. What my sentiments are towards the duke, the duke knows, every one knows – what need of this wild stuff?
ILLO. This is the thanks the duke gets for his partiality to Italians and foreigners. Us Bohemians he holds for little better than dullards – nothing pleases him but what's outlandish.
TERZKY (in extreme embarrassment, to the Commanders, who at ILLO's words give a sudden start as preparing to resent them). It is the wine that speaks, and not his reason. Attend not to him, I entreat you.
ISOLANI (with a bitter laugh). Wine invents nothing: it only tattles.
ILLO. He who is not with me is against me. Your tender consciences! Unless they can slip out by a back-door, by a puny proviso —
TERZKY (interrupting him). He is stark mad – don't listen to him!
ILLO (raising his voice to the highest pitch). Unless they can slip out by a proviso. What of the proviso? The devil take this proviso!
MAX. (has his attention roused, and looks again into the paper). What is there here then of such perilous import? You make me curious – I must look closer at it.
TERZKY (in a low voice to ILLO). What are you doing, Illo? You are ruining us.
TIEFENBACH (to KOLATTO). Ay, ay! I observed, that before we sat down to supper, it was read differently.
GOETZ. Why, I seemed to think so too.
ISOLANI. What do I care for that? Where there stand other names mine can stand too.
TIEFENBACH. Before supper there was a certain proviso therein, or short clause, concerning our duties to the emperor.
BUTLER (to one of the Commanders). For shame, for shame! Bethink you. What is the main business here? The question now is, whether we shall keep our general, or let him retire. One must not take these things too nicely, and over-scrupulously.
ISOLANI (to one of the Generals). Did the duke make any of these provisos when he gave you your regiment?
TERZKY (to GOETZ). Or when he gave you the office of army-purveyancer, which brings you in yearly a thousand pistoles!
ILLO. He is a rascal who makes us out to be rogues. If there be any one that wants satisfaction, let him say so, – I am his man.
TIEFENBACH. Softly, softly? 'Twas but a word or two.
MAX. (having read the paper gives it back). Till to-morrow therefore!
ILLO (stammering with rage and fury, loses all command over himself and presents the paper to MAX. With one hand, and his sword in the other). Subscribe – Judas!
ISOLANI. Out upon you, Illo!
OCTAVIO, TERZKY, BUTLER (all together). Down with the sword!
MAX. (rushes on him suddenly and disarms him, then to COUNT TERZKY). Take him off to bed!
[MAX leaves the stage. ILLO cursing and raving is held back by some of the officers, and amidst a universal confusion the curtain drops.
A Chamber in PICCOLOMINI's Mansion. It is Night.
OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. A VALET DE CHAMBRE with Lights.
And when my son comes in, conduct him hither.
What is the hour?
'Tis on the point of morning.
Set down the light. We mean not to undress.
You may retire to sleep.
[Exit VALET. OCTAVIO paces, musing, across the chamber; MAX.
PICCOLOMINI enters unobserved, and looks at his father for some moments in silence.
Art thou offended with me? Heaven knows
That odious business was no fault of mine.
'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature,
What thou hast sanctioned, should not, it might seem,
Have come amiss to me. But – 'tis my nature —
Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow
My own light, not another's.
Follow it,
Oh, follow it still further, my best son!
To-night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully
Guided thee than the example of thy father.
Declare thyself less darkly.
I will do so;
For after what has taken place this night,
There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two.
[Both seat themselves.
Max. Piccolomini! what thinkest thou of
The oath that was sent round for signatures?
I hold it for a thing of harmless import,
Although I love not these set declarations.
And on no other ground hast thou refused
The signature they fain had wrested from thee?
It was a serious business. I was absent —
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me.
Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion?
Suspicion! what suspicion? Not the least.
Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini;
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.
I know not what thou meanest.
I will tell thee.
Fain would they have extorted from thee, son,
The sanction of thy name to villany;
Yes, with a single flourish of thy pen,
Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honor!
Octavio!
Patience! Seat Yourself. Much yet
Hast thou to hear from me, friend! Hast for years
Lived in incomprehensible illusion.
Before thine eyes is treason drawing out
As black a web as e'er was spun for venom:
A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding.
I dare no longer stand in silence – dare
No longer see thee wandering on in darkness,
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.
My father!
Yet, ere thou speakest, a moment's pause of thought!
If your disclosures should appear to be
Conjectures only – and almost I fear
They will be nothing further – spare them! I
Am not in that collected mood at present,
That I could listen to them quietly.
The deeper cause thou hast to hate this light,
The more impatient cause have I, my son,
To force it on thee. To the innocence
And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee
With calm assurance – but I see the net
Preparing – and it is thy heart itself
Alarms me, for thine innocence – that secret,
[Fixing his eyes steadfastly on his son's face.
Which thou concealest, forces mine from me.
[MAX. attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts his eyes to the ground embarrassed.
Know, then, they are duping thee! – a most foul game
With thee and with us all – nay, hear me calmly —
The duke even now is playing. He assumes
The mask, as if he would forsake the army;
And in this moment makes he preparations
That army from the emperor to steal,
And carry it over to the enemy!
That low priest's legend I know well, but did not
Expect to hear it from thy mouth.
That mouth,
From which thou hearest it at this present moment,
Doth warrant thee that it is no priest's legend.
How mere a maniac they supposed the duke;
What, he can meditate? – the duke? – can dream
That he can lure away full thirty thousand
Tried troops and true, all honorable soldiers,
More than a thousand noblemen among them,
From oaths, from duty, from their honor lure them,
And make them all unanimous to do
A deed that brands them scoundrels?
Such a deed,
With such a front of infamy, the duke
No way desires – what he requires of us
Bears a far gentler appellation. Nothing
He wishes but to give the empire peace.
And so, because the emperor hates this peace,
Therefore the duke – the duke will force him to it.
All parts of the empire will he pacify,
And for his trouble will retain in payment
(What he has already in his gripe) – Bohemia!
Has he, Octavio, merited of us,
That we – that we should think so vilely of him?
What we would think is not the question here,
The affair speaks for itself – and clearest proofs!
Hear me, my son – 'tis not unknown to thee,
In what ill credit with the court we stand.
But little dost thou know, or guess what tricks,
What base intrigues, what lying artifices,
Have been employed – for this sole end – to sow
Mutiny in the camp! All bands are loosed —
Loosed all the bands that link the officer
To his liege emperor, all that bind the soldier
Affectionately to the citizen.
Lawless he stands, and threateningly beleaguers
The state he's bound to guard. To such a height
'Tis swollen, that at this hour the emperor
Before his armies – his own armies – trembles;
Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears
The traitor's poniard, and is meditating
To hurry off and hide his tender offspring —
Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans – no,
From his own troops to hide and hurry them!
Cease, cease! thou torturest, shatterest me. I know
That oft we tremble at an empty terror;
But the false phantasm brings a real misery.
It is no phantasm. An intestine war,
Of all the most unnatural and cruel,
Will burst out into flames, if instantly
We do not fly and stifle it. The generals
Are many of them long ago won over;
The subalterns are vacillating; whole
Regiments and garrisons are vacillating.
To foreigners our strongholds are intrusted;
To that suspected Schafgotch is the whole
Force of Silesia given up: to Terzky
Five regiments, foot and horse; to Isolani,
To Illo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops.
Likewise to both of us.
Because the duke
Believes he has secured us, means to lure us
Still further on by splendid promises.
To me he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz
And Sagan; and too plain I see the bait
With which he doubts not but to catch thee.
No! no!
I tell thee, no!
Oh, open yet thine eyes!
And to what purpose think'st thou he has called
Hither to Pilsen? to avail himself
Of our advice? Oh, when did Friedland ever
Need our advice? Be calm, and listen to me.
To sell ourselves are we called hither, and
Decline we that, to be his hostages.
Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof;
Thy father, too, thou wouldst not have seen here,
If higher duties had not held him fettered.
He makes no secret of it – needs make none —
That we're called hither for his sake – he owns it.
He needs our aidance to maintain himself —
He did so much for us; and 'tis but fair
That we, too, should do somewhat now for him.
And know'st thou what it is which we must do?
That Illo's drunken mood betrayed it to thee.
Bethink thyself, what hast thou heard, what seen?
The counterfeited paper, the omission
Of that particular clause, so full of meaning,
Does it not prove that they would bind us down
To nothing good?
That counterfeited paper
Appears to me no other than a trick
Of Illo's own device. These underhand
Traders in great men's interests ever use
To urge and hurry all things to the extreme.
They see the duke at variance with the court,
And fondly think to serve him, when they widen
The breach irreparably. Trust me, father,
The duke knows nothing of all this.
It grieves me
That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter
A faith so specious; but I may not spare thee!
For this is not a time for tenderness.
Thou must take measured, speedy ones, must act.
I therefore will confess to thee that all
Which I've intrusted to thee now, that all
Which seems to thee so unbelievable,
That – yes, I will tell thee, (a pause) Max.! I had it all
From his own mouth, from the duke's mouth I had it.
No! no! never!
Himself confided to me
What I, 'tis true, had long before discovered
By other means; himself confided to me,
That 'twas his settled plan to join the Swedes;
And, at the head of the united armies,
Compel the emperor —
He is passionate,
The court has stung him; he is sore all over
With injuries and affronts; and in a moment
Of irritation, what if he, for once,
Forgot himself? He's an impetuous man.
Nay, in cold blood he did confess this to me
And having construed my astonishment
Into a scruple of his power, he showed me
His written evidences – showed me letters,
Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave
Promise of aidance, and defined the amount.
It cannot be! – cannot be! cannot be!
Dost thou not see, it cannot!
Thou wouldst of necessity have shown him
Such horror, such deep loathing – that or he
Had taken thee for his better genius, or
Thou stood'st not now a living man before me.
I have laid open my objections to him,
Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness;
But my abhorrence, the full sentiment
Of my whole heart – that I have still kept safe
To my own consciousness.
And thou hast been
So treacherous? That looks not like my father!
I trusted not thy words, when thou didst tell me
Evil of him; much less can I now do it,
That thou calumniatest thy own self.
I did not thrust myself into his secrecy.
Uprightness merited his confidence.
He was no longer worthy of sincerity.
Dissimulation, sure, was still less worthy
Of thee, Octavio!
Gave I him a cause
To entertain a scruple of my honor?
That he did not evince his confidence.
Dear son, it is not always possible
Still to preserve that infant purity
Which the voice teaches in our inmost heart,
Still in alarm, forever on the watch
Against the wiles of wicked men: e'en virtue
Will sometimes bear away her outward robes
Soiled in the wrestle with iniquity.
This is the curse of every evil deed
That, propagating still, it brings forth evil.
I do not cheat my better soul with sophisms;
I but perform my orders; the emperor
Prescribes my conduct to me. Dearest boy,
Far better were it, doubtless, if we all
Obeyed the heart at all times; but so doing,
In this our present sojourn with bad men,
We must abandon many an honest object.
'Tis now our call to serve the emperor;
By what means he can best be served – the heart
May whisper what it will – this is our call!
It seems a thing appointed, that to-day
I should not comprehend, not understand thee.
The duke, thou sayest, did honestly pour out
His heart to thee, but for an evil purpose:
And thou dishonestly hast cheated him
For a good purpose! Silence, I entreat thee —
My friend, thou stealest not from me —
Let me not lose my father!
As yet thou knowest not all, my son. I have
Yet somewhat to disclose to thee.
[After a pause.