Scene VII

To these enter Illo and Tertsky.

Tertsky. Our luck is on the turn. To-morrow come
The Swedes—twelve thousand gallant warriors, Illo!
Then straightways for Vienna. Cheerily, friend!
What! meet such news with such a moody face?

Illo. It lies with us at present to prescribe 5
Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless traitors,
Those skulking cowards that deserted us;
One has already done his bitter penance
The Piccolomini, be his the fate
Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure 10
To the old man's heart; he has his whole life long
Fretted and toiled to raise his ancient house
From a Count's title to the name of Prince;
And now must seek a grave for his only son.

Butler. 'Twas pity though! A youth of such heroic 15
And gentle temperament! The Duke himself,
'Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart.

Illo. Hark'e, old friend! That is the very point
That never pleased me in our General—
He ever gave the preference to the Italians. 20
Yea, at this very moment, by my soul!
He'd gladly see us all dead ten times over,
Could he thereby recall his friend to life.

Tertsky. Hush, hush! Let the dead rest! This evening's business
Is, who can fairly drink the other down— 25
Your regiment, Illo! gives the entertainment.
[[775]] Come! we will keep a merry carnival—
The night for once be day, and mid full glasses
Will we expect the Swedish Avantgarde.

Illo. Yes, let us be of good cheer for to-day, 30
For there's hot work before us, friends! This sword
Shall have no rest, till it be bathed to the hilt
In Austrian blood.

Gordon. Shame, shame! what talk is this,
My Lord Field Marshal? Wherefore foam you so
Against your Emperor?

Butler. Hope not too much 35
From this first victory. Bethink you, sirs!
How rapidly the wheel of Fortune turns;
The Emperor still is formidably strong.