WALLENSTEIN.
145
GORDON.
Ah, Butler!
Ah, Butler!
BUTLER.
Is he? speak.
Is he? speak.
GORDON.
He shall not perish! Not through you! The Heaven.
Refuses your arm. See—'tis wounded!—
He shall not perish! Not through you! The Heaven.
Refuses your arm. See—'tis wounded!—
BUTLER.
There is no need of my arm.
There is no need of my arm.
GORDON.
The most guilty
Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.
(The Groom of the Chamber advances from the gallery, with his finger on his mouth, commanding silence.)
The most guilty
Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice.
(The Groom of the Chamber advances from the gallery, with his finger on his mouth, commanding silence.)
GORDON.
He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!
He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!
BUTLER.
No! he shall die awake.
(is going.)
GORDON.
His heart still cleaves
To earthly things: he's not prepar'd to step
Into the presence of his God!
No! he shall die awake.
(is going.)
GORDON.
His heart still cleaves
To earthly things: he's not prepar'd to step
Into the presence of his God!
BUTLER. (going.)
God's merciful!
God's merciful!
GORDON. (holds him.)
Grant him but this night's respite.
Grant him but this night's respite.
BUT-
