OCTAVIO.
Without a purpose hither? Here in camp!
And at the very point of time, in which
We're arming for the war? That he has taken
These, the last pledges of his loyalty,
Away from out the Emperor's dominions—
This is no doubtful token of the nearness
Of some eruption!
QUESTENBERG.
Beneath this tempest, which collects itself
And threats us from all quarters? Th' enemy
Of th' empire on our borders, now already
The master of the Danube, and still farther,
And farther still, extending every hour!
In our interior the alarum-bells
Of insurrection—peasantry in arms———
All orders discontented—and the army,
Just in the moment of our expectation
Of aidance from it—lo! this very army
Seduc'd, run wild, lost to all discipline,
Loosen'd, and rent asunder from the state
And from their sov'reign, the blind instrument
Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon
Of fearful power, which at his will he wields!
OCTAVIO.
Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds:
And many a resolute, who now appears
