Max. He makes no secret of it—needs make none—
That we're called hither for his sake—he owns it. 140
He needs our aidance to maintain himself—
He did so much for us; and 'tis but fair
That we too should do somewhat now for him.

Octavio. And know'st thou what it is which we must do?
That Illo's drunken mood betrayed it to thee. 145
Bethink thyself—what hast thou heard, what seen?
The counterfeited paper—the omission
Of that particular clause, so full of meaning,
Does it not prove, that they would bind us down
To nothing good?

Max. That counterfeited paper 150
Appears to me no other than a trick
Of Illo's own device. These underhand
Traders in great men's interests ever use
To urge and hurry all things to the extreme.
They see the Duke at variance with the court, 155
And fondly think to serve him, when they widen
The breach irreparably. Trust me, father,
The Duke knows nothing of all this.

Octavio. It grieves me
That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter
A faith so specious; but I may not spare thee! 160
For this is not a time for tenderness.
Thou must take measures, speedy ones—must act.
I therefore will confess to thee, that all
Which I've entrusted to thee now—that all
Which seems to thee so unbelievable, [165]
That—yes, I will tell thee—Max! I had it all
From his own mouth—from the Duke's mouth I had it.

Max. No!—no!—never!

Octavio. Himself confided to me
What I, 'tis true, had long before discovered
By other means—himself confided to me, 170
That 'twas his settled plan to join the Swedes;
And, at the head of the united armies,
[[677]] Compel the Emperor—

Max. He is passionate.
The Court has stung him—he is sore all over
With injuries and affronts; and in a moment 175
Of irritation, what if he, for once,
Forgot himself? He's an impetuous man.

Octavio. Nay, in cold blood he did confess this to me:
And having construed my astonishment
Into a scruple of his power, he shewed me 180
His written evidences—shewed me letters,
Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave
Promise of aidance, and defin'd the amount.

Max. It cannot be!—can not be! can not be!
Dost thou not see, it cannot! 185
Thou wouldest of necessity have shewn him
Such horror, such deep loathing—that or he
Had taken thee for his better genius, or
Thou stood'st not now a living man before me—

Octavio. I have laid open my objections to him, [190]
Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness;
But my abhorrence, the full sentiment
Of my whole heart—that I have still kept sacred
To my own consciousness.