Egmont. Well, grant him another fortnight; after that he may proceed against him.
Secretary. You do well. His non-payment of the money proceeds not from inability, but from want of inclination. He will trifle no longer when he sees that you are in earnest. The steward further proposes to withhold, for half a month, the pensions which you allow to the old soldiers, widows, and others. In the meantime some expedient may be devised; they must make their arrangements accordingly.
Egmont. But what arrangements can be made here? These poor people want the money more than I do. He must not think of it.
Secretary. How then, my lord, is he to raise the required sum?
Egmont. It is his business to think of that. He was told so in a former letter.
Secretary. And therefore he makes these proposals.
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.