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Updated: May 20, 2025
She will not endure him to question a heart that has given him so many proofs of its tenderness and gratitude; she tells him her own wishes, how soft and fervent they are; and assures him, he is extremely obliged to her 'Since for you my charming friend, said she to Octavio, 'I have refused this night to marry your uncle; have a care, said she, smiling, 'how you treat me, lest I revenge myself on you; become your aunt, and bring heirs to the estate you have a right to: the writings of all which I have now in my chamber, and which were but just now laid at my feet, and which I cannot yet get him to receive back.
Simple truth, Sustainer of the world, had saved us all! Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! Wallenstein has deceived me oh, most foully! But thou has acted not much better. OCTAVIO. Son My son, ah! I forgive thy agony! Was't possible? hadst thou the heart, my father, Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, With cold premeditated purpose?
Translated by S. T. Coleridge. WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years' War. DUCHESS OF FREIDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein. THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. THE COUNTESS TERZKY, Sister of the Duchess. LADY NEUBRUNN. OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General. MAX. PICCOLOMINI, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers.
We will leave Sylvia's ravings to be expressed by none but herself, and tell you that after about fourteen days' absence, Octavio received this letter from Philander. PHILANDER to OCTAVIO.
He saw her pain and irresolution, and being absolutely undone with love, delivers her Philander's last letter to him, with what he had sent her enclosed; the sight of the very outside of it made her grow pale as death, and a feebleness seized her all over, that made her unable for a moment to open it; all which confusion Octavio saw with pain, which she perceiving recollected her thoughts as well as she could, and opened it, and read it; that to Octavio first, as being fondest of the continuation of the history of his falsehood, she read, and often paused to recover her spirits that were fainting at every period; and having finished it, she fell down on the bed where they sat.
What friend! and do we let him go away In this delusion let him go away? Not call him back immediately, not open His eyes, upon the spot? He has now opened mine, And I see more than pleases me. QUESTENBERG. What is it? OCTAVIO. Curse on this journey! QUESTENBERG. But why so? What is it? OCTAVIO. Come, come along, friend! I must follow up The ominous track immediately.
But then Octavio came to visit me, and who till then I never wished to see, but now I was impatient for his coming, who by degrees told me that you were gone I never asked him where, or how, or why; that you were gone was enough to possess me of all I feared, your being apprehended and sent into France, your delivering yourself up, your abandoning me; all, all I had an easy faith for, without consulting more than that thou wert gone that very word yet strikes a terror to my soul, disables my trembling hand, and I must wait for reinforcements from some kinder thoughts.
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 Wear it with honor for the right cause ever. BUTLER. Perjure myself to such a gracious sovereign? OCTAVIO. You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the duke!
The page obeys, and Octavio sent him with a sigh, and eyes that languishingly told him he did it with regret.
Nevertheless she was now so discreet, or rather cunning, to dissemble her resentment the best she could to her generous lover, for whom she had more inclination than she yet had leisure to perceive, and which she now attributes wholly to her revenge; and considering Octavio as the most proper instrument for that, she fancies what was indeed a growing tenderness from the sense of his merit, to be the effects of that revenge she so much thirsted after; and though without she dissembled a calm, within she was all fury and disorder, all storm and distraction: she went to bed racked with a thousand thoughts of despairing love: sometimes all the softness of Philander in their happy enjoyments came in view, and made her sometimes weep, and sometimes faint with the dear loved remembrance; sometimes his late enjoyments with Calista, and then she raved and burnt with frantic rage: but oh! at last she found her hope was gone, and wisely fell to argue with her soul.
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