DEVEREUX (to BUTLER).
Here is the golden fleece-the duke's sword--
MACDONALD.
Is it your order--
BUTLER (pointing to OCTAVIO).
Here stands he who now
Hath the sole power to issue orders.
[DEVEREUX and MACDONALD retire with marks of obeisance. One drops
away after the other, till only BUTLER, OCTAVIO, and GORDON remain
on the stage.
OCTAVIO (turning to BUTLER).
Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted?
Oh, God of Justice!
To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty
Of this foul deed.
BUTLER.
Your hand is pure. You have
Availed yourself of mine.
OCTAVIO.
Merciless man!
Thus to abuse the orders of thy lord-
And stain thy emperor's holy name with murder,
With bloody, most accursed assassination!
BUTLER (calmly).
I've but fulfilled the emperor's own sentence.
OCTAVIO.
Oh, curse of kings,
Infusing a dread life into their words,
And linking to the sudden, transient thought
The unchanging, irrevocable deed.
Was there necessity for such an eager
Despatch? Couldst thou not grant the merciful
A time for mercy? Time is man's good angel.
To leave no interval between the sentence,
And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem
God only, the immutable!
BUTLER.
For what
Rail you against me? What is my offence?
The empire from a fearful enemy
Have I delivered, and expect reward.
The single difference betwixt you and me
Is this: you placed the arrow in the bow;
I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet stand
Astonished that blood is come up. I always
Knew what I did, and therefore no result
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.
Have you aught else to order; for this instant
I make my best speed to Vienna; place
My bleeding sword before my emperor's throne,
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying
And punctual obedience may demand
From a just judge.
[Exit BUTLER.
SCENE XII.
To these enter the COUNTESS TERZKY, pale and disordered.
Her utterance is slow and feeble, and unimpassioned.
OCTAVIO (meeting her).
Oh, Countess Terzky! These are the results
Of luckless, unblest deeds.
COUNTESS.
They are the fruits
Of your contrivances. The duke is dead,
My husband too is dead, the duchess struggles
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared;
This house of splendor, and of princely glory,
Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servants
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last
Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver
The keys.
OCTAVIO (with a deep anguish).
Oh, countess! my house, too, is desolate.
COUNTESS.
Who next is to be murdered? Who is next
To be maltreated? Lo! the duke is dead.
The emperor's vengeance may be pacified!
Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity
Be imputed to the faithful as a crime-
The evil destiny surprised my brother
Too suddenly: he could not think on them.
