To raise up that great army for the Emperor :
And after, at the close of the campaign,
When you return'd home out of Pomerania,
Your daughter was already in the convent,
Wherein she has remain'd till now.

Wal.

The while

We in the field here gave our cares and toils
To make her great, and fight her a free way
To the loftiest earthly good; lo! mother Nature
Within the peaceful silent convent walls
Has done her part, and out of her free grace
Hath she bestowed on the beloved child

The godlike; and now leads her thus adorned
To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope.

Duch. (to Thekla) Thou wouldest not have recogniz'd thy father,

Would'st thou, my,child?

years,

She counted scarce eight

O yes, yes, mother!

When last she saw your face.

Thek.

At the first glance !-My father is not alter'd.

The form, that stands before me, falsifies

No feature of the image that hath liv'd
So long within me!

Wal.

The voice of my child!

I was indignant at my destiny

(then after a pause)

That it denied me a man-child to be

Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune,

And re-illume my soon extinguish'd being

In a proud line of princes.

I wrong'd my destiny. Here upon this head,
So lovely in its maiden bloom, will I
Let fall the garland of a life of war;

Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it,

Transmitted to a regal ornament,

Around these beauteous brows.

(He clasps her in his arms as Piccolomini enters.)

SCENE IX.

Enter Max. Piccolomini, and some time after Count Tertsky, the others remaining as before.

Coun. There comes the Palladin who protected us. Wal. Max! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert

thou

The morning star of my best joys!

Мах.

My General

Wal. 'Till now it was the Emperor who rewarded thee, I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound

The father to thee, Max! the fortunate father,
And this debt Friedland's self must pay.

Мах.

My prince!

You made no common hurry to transfer it.
I come with shame. Yea, not without a pang!
For scarce have I arriv'd here, scarce deliver'd
The mother and the daughter to your arms,
But there is brought to me from your equerry
A splendid richly plated hunting dress,
So to remunerate me for my trouble-
Yes, yes, remunerate me! Since a trouble
It must be, a mere office, not a favour
Which I leapt forward to receive, and which
I came already with full heart to thank you for,

No! 'twas not so intended, that my business
Should be my highest, best good fortune!

(Tertsky enters, and delivers letters to the Duke

which he breaks open hurryingly.)

Coun. (to Max.) Remunerate your trouble! For his

joy

He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting

For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel

So tenderly-my brother it beseems

To show himself for ever great and princely.

Thek. Then I too must have scruples of his love:

For his munificent hands did ornament me

Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me.
Max. Yes: 'tis his nature ever to be giving,

And making happy.

(He grasps the hand of the Duchess with still increasing warmth.)

How my heart pours out

Its all of thanks to him: O! how I seem

To utter all things in the dear name Friedland.
While I shall live, so long will I remain

The captive of this name: in it shall bloom
My every fortune, every lovely hope.

Inextricably as in some magic ring

In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me!

Coun. (who during this time has been anxiously watching the Duke, and remarks that he is lost in thought over the letters.) My brother wishes us to leave him.

Come.

Wal. (turns himself round quickly, collects himself, and

speaks with cheerfulness to the Duchess.) Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp,

Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max.

Will now again administer your old office,

While we perform the sovereign's business here.

(Max. Piccolomini offers the Duchess his arm, the Countess accompanies the Princess.)

Ter. (calling after him.) Max., we depend on seeing you at the meeting.

SCENE X.

Wallenstein, Count Tertsky.

Wal. (in deep thought to himself.) She hath seen all

things as they are-It is so,

And squares completely with my other notices.
They have determin'd finally in Vienna,

Have given me my successor already;

It is the king of Hungary, Ferdinand,

The Emperor's delicate son! he's now their saviour,
He's the new star that's rising now!

Of us

They think themselves already fairly rid,
And as we were deceas'd, the heir already

Is entering on possession-Therefore-despatch!

[As he turns round he observes Tertsky, and gives him a letter.

Count Altringer will have himself excus'd,

And Galas too-I like not this!

Ter.

Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away,

One following the other.

Wal.

Altringer

Is master of the Tyrole passes. I must forthwith
Send some one to him, that he let not in

And if

The Spaniards on me from the Milanese.

-Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader

In contraband negociations, he

Has shown himself again of late. What brings he
From the Count Thur?

Ter.

The Count communicates,

He has found out the Swedish chancellor

At Halberstadt, where the conventions's held,

Who says, you've tir'd him out, and that he'll have
No further dealings with you.

Wal.

And why so?

Ter. He says, you are never in earnest in your speeches ; That you decoy the Swedes-to make fools of them,

Will league yourself with Saxony against them,
And at last make yourself a riddance of them
With a paltry sum of money.

Wal.

So then, doubtless,

Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects
That I shall yield him some fair German tract
For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last,
On our own soil and native territory,

May be no longer our own lords and masters!

An excellent scheme !-No, no! They must be off,

Off, off! away!-we want no such neighbours,

Ter. Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land—

It goes not from your portion. If you win

The game, what matters it to you who pays it?

Wal. Off with them, off! Thou understand'st not this. Never shall it be said of me, I parcell'd

My native land away, dismember'd Germany,
Betray'd it to a foreigner, in order

To come with stealthy tread, and filch away
My own share of the plunder.-Never! never!
No foreign power shall strike root in the empire,