QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet).
O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffer'd
Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There
We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,
Eyes dazzled by the splendor of the throne.
We had not seen the War-chief, the Commander,
The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here,
'Tis quite another thing.
Here is no Emperor more—the Duke is Emperor.
Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend!
This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp
Strikes my hopes prostrate.
OCTAVIO.
Of what a perilous kind the office is,
Which you deliver to me from the Court.
The least suspicion of the General
Costs me my freedom and my life, and would
But hasten his most desperate enterprise.
QUESTENBERG.
This madman with the sword, and plac'd such power
In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,
Flatly refuse, t'obey the imperial orders.
Friend, he can do't, and what he can, he will.
And then th'impunity of his defiance—
O! what a proclamation of our weakness!
OCTAVIO.
