Ferdinand. He lives, he is free.
Egmont. He knows her dwelling; let him guide thy steps thither, and reward him to his dying day, for having shown thee the way to this jewel.—Farewell!
Ferdinand. I cannot leave thee.
Egmont (urging him towards the door). Farewell!
Ferdinand. Oh, let me linger yet a moment!
Egmont. No leave-taking, my friend.
(He accompanies Ferdinand to the door, and then tears himself away; Ferdinand, overwhelmed with grief, hastily retires.)
Egmont (alone)
Egmont. Cruel man! Thou didst not think to render me this service through thy son. He has been the means of relieving my mind from the pressure of care and sorrow, from fear and every anxious feeling. Gently, yet urgently, nature claims her final tribute. 'Tis past!—'Tis resolved! And the reflections which, in the suspense of last night, kept me wakeful on my couch, now with resistless certainty lull my senses to repose.
(He seats himself upon the couch; music)