[Butler attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labours inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to Piccolomini.
Octavio. What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.
Butler. Take it.
Octavio. But to what purpose? Calm yourself.
Butler. O take it!
I am no longer worthy of this sword.
Octavio. Receive it then anew from my hands—and 125
Wear it with honour for the right cause ever.
Butler.——Perjure myself to such a gracious Sovereign!
Octavio. You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the Duke!
Butler. Break off from him!
Octavio. What now? Bethink thyself.