ACT. III.-SCENE I.

SCENE.-A Chamber in Piccolomini's Mansion.— It is Night.

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. A Valet de Chambre,

with Lights.

OCTAVIO.

And when my son comes in, conduct him

hither.

What is the hour?

VALET.

'Tis on the point of morning.

OCTAVIO.

Set down the light. We mean not to undress.

You may retire to sleep.

[Exit Valet. Octavio paces, musing, across the

VOL. III.

chamber; Max. Piccolomini enters unobserved, and looks at his father for some moments in silence.

L

MAX.

Art thou offended with me? Heaven knows

That odious business was no fault of mine.

'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature.

What thou hadst sanctioned, should not, it might

seem,

Have come amiss to me. But-'tis my nature-
Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow
My own light, not another's.

OCTAVIO (goes up to him and embraces him).

Follow it,

O follow it still further, my best son!

To night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully
Guided thee than the example of thy father.

MAX

Declare thyself less darkly.

OCTAVIO.

I will do so.

For after what has taken place this night,
There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two.

[Both seat themselves.

Max. Piccolomini! what thinkest thou of

The oath that was sent round for signatures?

I hold it for a thing of harmless import,
Although I love not these set declarations.

OCTAVIO.

And on no other ground hast thou refused

The signature they fain had wrested from thee?

It was a serious business-I was absent-
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me.

OCTAVIO.

Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion ?

Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini :

He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.

MAX.

I know not what thou meanest.

OCTAVIO.

I will tell thee.

Fain would they have extorted from thee, son,
The sanction of thy name to villainy;

Yea, with a single flourish of thy pen,

Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honour!

Octavio!

MAX. (rises).

OCTAVIO.

Patience! Seat yourself. Much yet

Hast thou to hear from me, friend!-hast for years ived in incomprehensible illusion.

Before thine eyes is Treason drawing out
As black a web as e'er was spun for venom :
A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding.
I dare no longer stand in silence-dare

No longer see thee wandering on in darkness,
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.

MAX.

My father!

Yet, ere thou speakest, a moment's pause of thought!

If your disclosures should appear to be

Conjectures only-and almost I fear

They will be nothing further-spare them! I

Am not in that collected mood at present,

That I could listen to them quietly.

OCTAVIO.

The deeper cause thou hast to hate this light,
The more impatient cause have I, my son,

To force it on thee. To the innocence

And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee With calm assurance--but I see the net

Preparing and it is thy heart itself

Alarms me for thine innocence-that secret,

[fixing his eye steadfastly on his son's face.

Which thou concealest, forces mine from me. [Max, attempts to answer but hesitates, and casts his eyes to the ground embarrassed.

OCTAVIO (after a pause).

Know, then, they are duping thee!-a most foul

game

With thee and with us all-nay, hear me calmly

The Duke even now is playing. He assumes

The mask, as if he would forsake the army;
And in this moment makes he preparations
That army from the Emperor to steal,

And carry it over to the enemy!

MAX.

That low Priest's legend I know well, but did not
Expect to hear it from thy mouth.

OCTAVIO.

That mouth,

From which thou hearest it at this present moment, Doth warrant thee that it is no Priest's legend.

MAX.

How mere a maniac they supposed the Duke;
What, he can meditate ?-the Duke ?-can dream
That he can lure away full thirty thousand
Tried troops and true, all honourable soldiers,
More than a thousand noblemen among them,
From oaths, from duty, from their honour lure them,
And make them all unanimous to do

A deed that brands them scoundrels?