oposals.

Egmont. They will never do;--he must think of something else. Let him
suggest expedients that are admissible, and, before all, let him procure
the money.

Secretary. I have again before me the letter from Count Oliva. Pardon
my recalling it to your remembrance. Before all others, the aged count
deserves a detailed reply. You proposed writing to him with your own
hand. Doubtless, he loves you as a father.

Egmont. I cannot command the time;--and of all detestable things,
writing is to me the most detestable. You imitate my hand so admirably,
do you write in my name. I am expecting Orange. I cannot do it;--I wish,
however, that something soothing should be written, to allay his fears.

Secretary. Just give me a notion of what you wish to communicate; I
will at once draw up the answer, and lay it before you. It shall be so
written that it might pass for your hand in a court of justice.

Egmont. Give me the letter. (After glancing over it.) Dear, excellent,
old man! Wert thou then so cautious in thy youth? Didst thou never mount
a breach? Didst thou remain in the rear of battle at the suggestion of
prudence?--What affectionate solicitude! He has indeed my safety and
happiness at heart, but considers not, that he who lives but to save his
life, is already dead.--Charge him not to be anxious on my account; I
act as circumstances require, and shall be upon my guard. Let him
use his influence at court in my favour, and be assured of my warmest
thanks.

Secretary. Is that all? He expects still more.

Egmont. What can I say? If you choose to write more fully, do so. The
matter turns upon a single point; he would have me live as I cannot
live. That I am joyous, live fast, take matters easily, is my good
fortune; nor would! exchange it for the safety of a sepulchre. My
blood rebels against the Spanish mode of life, nor have I the least
inclination to regulate my movements by the new and cautious measures of
the court. Do I live only to think of life? Am I to forego the enjoyment
of the present moment in order to secure the next? And must that in its
turn be consumed in anxieties and idle fears?

Secretary. I entreat you, my lord, be not so harsh towards the venerable
man. You are wont to be friendly towards every one. Say a kindly word to
allay the anxiety of your noble friend. See how considerate he is, with
what delicacy he warns you.

Egmont. Yet he harps continually on the same string. He knows of old
how I