Butler (stepping forward). Hark! Who speaks there?
Gordon. 'Tis better, I resign it to the hands
Of providence. For what am I, that I
Should take upon myself so great a deed?
I have not murdered him, if he be murdered: [15]
But all his rescue were my act and deed;
Mine—and whatever be the consequences,
I must sustain them.
Butler (advances). I should know that voice.
Gordon. Butler!
Butler. 'Tis Gordon. What do you want here?
Was it so late then, when the Duke dismissed you? [20]
Gordon. Your hand bound up and in a scarf?
Butler. 'Tis wounded.
That Illo fought as he was frantic, till
At last we threw him on the ground.
Gordon. Both dead?
Butler. Is he in bed?
Gordon. Ah, Butler!