English poem
SCENE IX
Butler (alone). I treasured my good name all my life long; The Duke has cheated me of life's best jewel, So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon! He prizes above all his fealty; His conscious soul accuses him of nothing; In opposition to his own soft heart He subjugates himself to an iron duty. Me in a weaker moment passion warped; I stand beside him, and must feel myself The worst man of the two. What though the world Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet One man does know it, and can prove it too-- High-minded Piccolomini! There lives the man who can dishonour me! This ignominy blood alone can cleanse! Duke Friedland, thou or I--Into my own hands Fortune delivers me--The dearest thing a man has is himself.
(The curtain drops.)