I read the letter.

OCTAVIO.

And so did I—­but the contents were different.
[BUTLER is suddenly struck.]

By chance I’m in possession of that letter—­
Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

[He gives him the letter.]

BUTLER.

Ha! what is this?

OCTAVIO.

I fear me, Colonel Butler,
An infamous game have they been playing with you. 
The Duke, you say, impell’d you to this measure? 
Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt
Concerning you; counsels the minister
To give sound chastisement to your conceit,
For so he calls it.

[BUTLER reads through the letter; his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it.]

You have no enemy, no persecutor;
There’s no one wishes ill to you.  Ascribe
The insult you received to the Duke only. 
His aim is clear and palpable.  He wish’d
To tear you from your Emperor:  he hoped
To gain from your revenge what he well knew
(What your long-tried fidelity convinced him)
He ne’er could dare expect from your calm reason. 
A blind tool would he make you, in contempt
Use you, as means of most abandoned ends. 
He has gained his point.  Too well has he succeeded
In luring you away from that good path
On which you had been journeying forty years!

BUTLER (his voice trembling).

Can e’er the Emperor’s Majesty forgive me?

OCTAVIO.

More than forgive you.  He would fain compensate
For that affront, and most unmerited grievance
Sustain’d by a deserving gallant veteran. 
From his free impulse he confirms the present,
Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose. 
The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again.  He labors inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot.  At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.]

OCTAVIO.

What wish you?  Recollect yourself, friend.

BUTLER.

Take it.

OCTAVIO.

But to what purpose?  Calm yourself.

BUTLER.

O take it! 
I am no longer worthy of this sword.

OCTAVIO.

Receive it then anew, from my hands—­and
Wear it with honor for the right cause ever.

BUTLER.

Perjure 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 Frauenburg, 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.