Silva.  Rely upon us.  Their doom, like a well-calculated eclipse, will overtake them with terrible certainty.

Alva.  Have you had them all narrowly watched?

Silva.  All.  Egmont especially.  He is the only one whose demeanour, since your arrival, remains unchanged.  The live-long day he is now on one horse and now on another; he invites guests as usual, is merry and entertaining at table, plays at dice, shoots, and at night steals to his mistress.  The others, on the contrary, have made a manifest pause in their mode of life; they remain at home, and, from the outward aspect of their houses, you would imagine that there was a sick man within.

Alva.  To work then, ere they recover in spite of us.

Silva.  I shall bring them without fail.  In obedience to your commands we load them with officious honours; they are alarmed; cautiously, yet anxiously, they tender us their thanks, feel that flight would be the most prudent course, yet none venture to adopt it; they hesitate, are unable to work together, while the bond which unites them prevents their acting boldly as individuals.  They are anxious to withdraw themselves from suspicion, and thus only render themselves more obnoxious to it.  I already contemplate with joy the successful realization of your scheme.

Alva.  I rejoice only over what is accomplished, and not lightly over that; for there ever remains ground for serious and anxious thought.  Fortune is capricious; the common, the worthless, she oft-times ennobles, while she dishonours with a contemptible issue the most maturely considered schemes.  Await the arrival of the princes, then order Gomez to occupy the streets, and hasten yourself to arrest Egmont’s secretary, and the others who are specified.  This done, return, and announce to my son that he may bring me the tidings in the council.

Silva.  I trust this evening I shall dare to appear in your presence. (Alva approaches his son who has hitherto been standing in the gallery.) I dare not whisper it even to myself; but my mind misgives me.  The event will, I fear, be different from what he anticipates.  I see before me spirits, who, still and thoughtful, weigh in ebon scales the doom of princes and of many thousands.  Slowly the beam moves up and down; deeply the judges appear to ponder; at length one scale sinks, the other rises, breathed on by the caprice of destiny, and all is decided.

[Exit.

Alva (advancing with his son).  How did you find the town?

Ferdinand.  All is again quiet.  I rode as for pastime, from street to street.  Your well-distributed patrols hold Fear so tightly yoked, that she does not venture even to whisper.  The town resembles a plain when the lightning’s glare announces the impending storm:  no bird, no beast is to be seen, that is not stealing to a place of shelter.

Alva.  Has nothing further occurred?

Ferdinand.  Egmont, with a few companions, rode into the market-place; we exchanged greetings; he was mounted on an unbroken charger, which excited my admiration, “Let us hasten to break in our steeds,” he exclaimed; “we shall need them ere long!” He said that he should see me again to-day; he is coming here, at your desire, to deliberate with you.