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?
