erjure myself to such a gracious sovereign?

OCTAVIO.
You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the duke!

BUTLER.
Break off from him.

OCTAVIO.
What now? Bethink thyself.

BUTLER (no longer governing his emotion).
Only break off from him? He dies! he dies!

OCTAVIO.
Come after me to Frauenberg, where now
All who are loyal are assembling under
Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others
I've brought to a remembrance of their duty
This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.

BUTLER (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to
OCTAVIO with resolved countenance).
Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak
Of honor to you, who once broke his troth.

OCTAVIO.
He who repents so deeply of it dares.

BUTLER.
Then leave me here upon my word of honor!

OCTAVIO.
What's your design?

BUTLER.
Leave me and my regiment.

OCTAVIO.
I have full confidence in you. But tell me
What are you brooding?

BUTLER.
That the deed will tell you.
Ask me no more at present. Trust me.
Ye may trust safely. By the living God,
Ye give him over, not to his good angel!
Farewell.
[Exit BUTLER.

SERVANT (enters with a billet).
A stranger left it, and is gone.
The prince-duke's horses wait for you below.

[Exit SERVANT.

OCTAVIO (reads).
"Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolani."
--O that I had but left this town behind me.
To split upon a rock so near the haven!
Away! This is no longer a safe place
For me! Where can my son be tarrying!

SCENE VII.

OCTAVIO and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX. enters almost in a state of derangement, from extreme
agitation; his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he
appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance,
and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion.
He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still
again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly
at the object directly before him.

OCTAVIO (advances to him).
I am going off, my son.
[Receiving no answer, he takes his hands
My son, farewell.

MAX.
Farewell.

OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt soon follow me?

MAX.
I follow thee?
Thy way is crooked--it is not my way.
[OCTAVIO drops his hand and starts back.
Oh, hadst thou been but simple and sincere,
Ne'er had it come to this--all had stood otherwise.
He had n