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Gor. (rushes out) O God of mercy !
But. (calling after him) Governor, to your post !
Gro. of the Cham. (hurries in) Who dares make larum

here? Hush! The Duke sleeps. Dev. (with loud harsh voice) Friend, it is time now to

make larum, Gro. of the Cham.


But. Down with him !
Gro. of the Cham. (run through the body by Devereux,

falls at the entrance of the gallery) Jesus Maria ! But. Burst the doors open !

(They rush over the body into the gallery-two

doors are heard to crash one after the othervoices deadened by the distance-clash of arms —then all at once a profound silence.)

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Coun. Ter. (with a light) Her bed-chamber is empty ;

she herself
Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too,
Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should
Be flown—But whither flown? We must call up
Every soul in the house. How will the Duke
Bear up against these worst bad tidings ? O
If that my husband now were but return'd
Home from the banquet: Hark! I wonder whether
The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard
Voices and tread of feet here! I will go
And listen at the door. Hark! What is that?
'Tis hastening up the steps !

Scene VII.

Countess, Gordon.

Gor. (rushes in out of breath) 'Tis a mistake, 'Tis not the Swedes-Ye must proceed no furtherButler! O God! Where is he?

(Then observing the Countess.)

Countess ! Saya Coun. You are come then from the castle? Where's

my husband ? Gor. (in an agony of affright) Your husband !-Ask

not !-To the DukeCoun.

Not till
You have discover'd to me

On this moment
Does the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke.
While we are speaking-

(calling loudly)

Butler! Butler! God!
Coun. Why, he is at the castle with my husband.

(Butler comes from the gallery.)
Gor. "Tis a mistake-'Tis not the Swedes-It is
The Imperialist's Lieutenant-General
Has sent me hither, will be here himself
Instantly.—You must not proceed.

He comes
Too late.

(Gordon dashes himself against the wall.)

O God of mercy!

What too late?
Who will be here himself ? Octavio
In Egra ? Treason! Treason ! Where's the Duke?
(She rushes to the gallery.)

Scene VIII.

Servants run across the stage full of terror. The whole

scene must be spoken entirely without pauses.

Seni. (from the gallery) O bloody frightful deed !

What is it, Seni?
Page. (from the gallery) O piteous sight!

(Other servants hasten in with torches.)
Coun. What is it? For God's sake!

And do you ask?
Within the Duke lies murder'd—and your husband
Assassinated at the castle.

(The Countess stands motionless.) Fem. Ser. (rushing across the stage) Help! Help! the

Duchess! Burg. (enters)

What meant these confus'd Loud cries, that wake the sleepers of this house ?

Gor. Your house is curs’d to all eternity.
In your house doth the Duke lie murdered !
Burg. (rushing out)

Heaven forbid !
First Ser. Fly ! fly! they murder us all!
Second Ser. (carrying silver plate)

The lower
Passages are block'd up.
Voice. (from behind the scene) Make room for the

Lieutenant-General !
(At these words the Countess starts from her stupor,

collects herself, and retires suddenly.) Voice. (from behind the scene) Keep back the people!

Guard the door.

That way!


To these enters Octavio Piccolomini with all his train.

At the same time Devereux and Macdonald enter from out the Corridor with the Halberdiers. Wallenstein's dead body is carried over the back part of the stage, wrapped in a piece of crimson tapestry.

Oct. (entering abruptly) It must not be! It is not

possible! Butler! Gordon ! I'll not believe it. Say no ! Gor. (Without answering, points with his hand to the

body of Wallenstein as it is carried over the back of the stage. Octavio looks that way,

and stands overpowered with horror.) Dev. (to Butler) Here is the golden fleece-the Duke's

sword Macd. Is it your order ? But. (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.) Oct. (turning to Butler) Was that my purpose, Butler,

when we parted ?
O God of Justice !
To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty
Of this foul deed.

Your hand is pure. You have
Avail'd yourself of mine.


Merciless man!
Thus to abuse the orders of thy lord-
And stain thy Emperor's, holy name with murder,
With bloody, most accurs'd assassination ?
But. (calmly) I've but fulfill’d the Emperor's own

Oct. O curse of kings,
Infusing a dread life into their words,
And linking to the sudden transcient thought
The unchangeable, irrevocable deed.
Was there necessity for such an eager
Despatch ? Could'st 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 !

For what
Rail you against me? What is my offence ?
The empire from a fearful enemy
Have I deliver'd, and expect reward.
The single difference betwixt you and me
Is this : you plac'd the arrow in the bow;
I pull’d the string. You sow'd blood, and yet stand
Astonish'd 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.

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