QUESTENBERG.
Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide
Some little from the fingers of the Croats.
ILLO.
There! The Stawata and the Martinitz,
On whom the emperor heaps his gifts and graces,
To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians-
Those minions of court favor, those court harpies,
Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens
Driven from their house and home-who reap no harvests
Save in the general calamity-
Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock
The desolation of their country-these,
Let these, and such as these, support the war,
The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!
BUTLER.
And those state-parasites, who have their feet
So constantly beneath the emperor's table,
Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they
Snap at it with dogs' hunger-they, forsooth,
Would pare the soldiers bread and cross his reckoning!
ISOLANI.
My life long will it anger me to think,
How when I went to court seven years ago,
To see about new horses for our regiment,
How from one antechamber to another
They dragged me on and left me by the hour
To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering
Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither
A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favor
That fell beneath their tables. And, at last,
Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!
Straight I began to muster up my sins
For absolution-but no such luck for me!
This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom
I was to treat concerning the army horses!
And I was forced at last to quit the field,
The business unaccomplished. Afterwards
The duke procured me in three days what I
Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna.
QUESTENBERG.
Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to us!
Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.
ILLO.
War is violent trade; one cannot always
Finish one's work by soft means; every trifle
Must not be blackened into sacrilege.
If we should wait till you, in solemn council,
With due deliberation had selected
The smallest out of four-and-twenty evils,
I' faith we should wait long-
'Dash! and through with it!' That's the better watchword.
Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature
To make the best of a bad thing once past.
A bitter and perplexed 'what shall I do?'
Is worse to man than worst necessity.
QUESTENBERG.
Ay, doubtless, it is true; the duke does spare us
The troublesome task of choosing.
BUTLER.
Yes, the duke
Cares with a father's feelings for his troops;
But how the emperor feels for us, we see.
QUESTENBERG.
His cares and feelings all ranks share alike,
Nor will he offer one up to another.
ISOLANI.
And therefore thrusts he us into the deserts
As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve
His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.
QUESTENBERG (with a sneer).
Count! this comparison you make, not I.
ILLO.
Why, were we all the court supposes us
'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.
QUESTENBERG (gravely).
You have taken liberty-it was not given you,
And therefore it becomes an urgent duty
To rein it in with the curbs.
ILLO.
Expect to find a restive steed in us.
QUESTENBERG.
A better rider may be found to rule it.
ILLO.
