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. O 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 Dispatch? 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 offense? The Empire from a fearful enemy Have I deliver'd, and expect reward; The single difference betwixt you and me Is this: you placed 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.] SCENE XII _To these enter the_ COUNTESS TERZKY, _pale and disordered. Her utterance is slow and feeble, and unimpassioned_. OCTAVIO (_meeting her_). O, 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 disappear'd, 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_). O Countess! my house, too, is desolate. COUNTESS. Who next is to be murder'd? 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. OCTAVIO. Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment! The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault Hath heavily been expiated--nothing Descended from the father to the daughter, Except his glory and his services. The Empress honors your adversity, Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you Her motherly arms! Therefore, no farther fears; Yield yourself up in hope and confidence To the Imperial Grace! COUNTESS. _(with her eye raised to heaven_).