It is too late. I suffer not myself to feel compassion; Dark thoughts and bloody are my _duty_ now: [_Grasping_ GORDON's _hand_.] Gordon! 'tis not my hatred (I pretend not To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him), Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate. Hostile concurrences of many events Control and subjugate me to the office. In vain the human being meditates Free action. He is but the wire-work'd[31] puppet Of the blind Power, which out of its own choice Creates for him a dread necessity. What too would it avail him, if there were A something pleading for him in my heart-- Still I must kill him. GORDON. If your heart speak to you, Follow its impulse. 'Tis the voice of God. Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous Bedew'd with blood--his blood? Believe it not! BUTLER. You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten With such forced marches hitherward? Fain would I Have given him to the Emperor's mercy. Gordon! I do not wish his blood--But I must ransom The honor of my word--it lies in pledge-- And he must die, or-- [_Passionately grasping_ GORDON's _hand_.] Listen then, and know, I am _dishonor'd_ if the Duke escape us. GORDON. O! to save such a man-- BUTLER. What! GORDON. It is worth A sacrifice. Come, friend! Be noble-minded! Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, Forms our true honor. BUTLER (_with a cold and haughty air_). He is a great Lord, This Duke--and I am but of mean importance. This is what you would say! Wherein concerns it The world at large, you mean to hint to me, Whether the man of low extraction keeps Or blemishes his honor-- So that the man of princely rank be saved? We all do stamp our value on ourselves: The price we challenge for ourselves is given us. There does not live on earth the man so station'd That I despise myself, compared with him. Man is made great or little by his own will; Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies. GORDON. I am endeavoring to move a rock. Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings. I cannot hinder you, but may some God Rescue him from you! [_Exit_ GORDON.] BUTLER[32] (_alone_).