The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Chapter 233 : _Tiefenbach._ That's my mark._Isolani._ He cannot write; but his cross is a good

_Tiefenbach._ That's my mark.

_Isolani._ He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and 90 is honoured by Jews as well as Christians.

_Octavio (presses on to Max)._ Come, general! let us go. It is late.

_Tertsky._ One Piccolomini only has signed.

_Isolani (pointing to Max)._ Look! that is your man, that statue there, who has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the 95 whole evening.

[_MAX receives the paper from TERTSKY, which he looks upon vacantly._

LINENOTES:

[After 4] (_making the usual compliment after meals_) 1800, 1828, 1829.

[After 15] [_He continues to fix his eye on the whole following scene._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[37] _Isolani (pointing at his corpulence)._ 1800, 1828, 1829. should]

_should_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 53] _Octavio (stepping nearer to him friendlily)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 68] _Butler (coldly)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 76] _Octavio (advancing still nearer)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[76] business 'twas] the business was 1800, 1828, 1829.

[77] _Tertsky_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 80] _Isolani (who has been attending to them from some distance, steps up)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[93] _One_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE XIV

_To these enter ILLO from the inner room. He has in his hand the golden service-cup, and is extremely distempered with drinking: GOETZ and BUTLER follow him, endeavouring to keep him back._

_Illo._ What do you want? Let me go.

_Goetz and Butler._ Drink no more, Illo! For heaven's sake, drink no more.

_Illo (goes up to Octavio, and shakes him cordially by the hand, and then drinks)._ Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge be drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough, ye 5 never loved me--Devil take me!--and I never loved you!--I am always even with people in that way!--Let what's past be past--that is, you understand--forgotten! I esteem you infinitely.

(_Embracing him repeatedly._) You have not a dearer friend on earth than I--but that you know. The fellow that cries rogue 10 to you calls me villain--and I'll strangle him!--my dear friend!

_Tertsky (whispering to him)._ Art in thy senses? For heaven's sake, Illo! think where you are!

_Illo (aloud)._ What do you mean?--There are none but friends here, are there? Not a sneaker among us, thank heaven! 15

_Tertsky (to Butler)._ Take him off with you, force him off, I entreat you, Butler!

_Butler (to Illo)._ Field Marshal! a word with you.

[_Leads him to the sideboard._

_Illo._ A thousand for one! Fill--Fill it once more up to the brim.--To this gallant man's health! 20

_Isolani (to Max, who all the while has been staring on the paper with fixed but vacant eyes)._ Slow and sure, my n.o.ble brother!--Hast pa.r.s.ed it all yet?--Some words yet to go through?--Ha?

_Max._ What am I to do?

_Tertsky (and at the same time Isolani)._ Sign your name.

_Max (returns the paper)._ Let it stay till to-morrow. It is 25 business--to-day I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me to-morrow.

_Tertsky._ Nay, collect yourself a little.

_Isolani._ Awake, man! awake!--Come, thy signature, and have done with it! What? Thou art the youngest in the 30 whole company, and wouldest be wiser than all of us together?

Look there! thy father has signed--we have all signed.

_Tertsky (to Octavio)._ Use your influence. Instruct him.

_Octavio._ My son is at the age of discretion.

_Illo (leaves the service-cup on the sideboard)._ What's the dispute? 35

_Tertsky._ He declines subscribing the paper.

_Max._ I say, it may as well stay till to-morrow.

_Illo._ It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it--and so must you.--You must subscribe.

_Max._ Illo, good night! 40

_Illo._ No! You come not off so! The Duke shall learn who are his friends. [_All collect round ILLO and MAX._

_Max._ What my sentiments are towards the Duke, the Duke knows, every one knows--what need of this wild stuff? 45

_Illo._ This is the thanks the Duke gets for his partiality to Italians and foreigners.--Us Bohemians he holds for little better than dullards--nothing pleases him but what's outlandish.

_Tertsky (to the commanders, who at Illo's words give a sudden start, as preparing to resent them)._ It is the wine that speaks, and not his reason. Attend not to him, I entreat you. 50

_Isolani._ Wine invents nothing: it only tattles.

_Illo._ He who is not with me is against me. Your tender consciences! Unless they can slip out by a back-door, by a puny proviso----