The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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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 110

       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. Can e’er the Emperor’s Majesty forgive me? 115

      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. 120

       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.

      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 125

       Wear it with honour 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! 130

      Octavio. 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. 135

      Butler. Count Piccolomini! Dare that man speak

       Of honour 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 honour!

      Octavio. What’s your design?

      Butler. Leave me and my regiment. 140

      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 to me.

       Ye may trust safely. By the living God

       Ye give him over, not to his good angel! 145

       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 Isolan.’

       — O that I had but left this town behind me.

       To split upon a rock so near the haven! — 150

       Away! This is no longer a safe place for me!

       Where can my son be tarrying?

       Table of Contents

      OCTAVIO and MAX PICCOLOMINI.

      Octavio (advances to Max). I am going off, my son.

      [Receiving no answer he takes his hand.

      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.

      O, hadst thou been but simple and sincere,

       Ne’er had it come to this — all had stood otherwise. 5

       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 behind him — lurking for thy prey? 10

       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 saved us all!

       Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! 15

       Wallenstein has deceived me — O, most foully!

       But thou hast acted not much better.

      Octavio. Son!

       My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!

      Max. Was’t possible? had’st thou the heart, my father,

       Had’st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, 20

       With cold premeditated purpose? Thou —

      

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