We'll join the Swedes-right gallant fellows are they,
And our good friends.

(He stops himself, expecting Piccolomini's answer,) I have ta'en thee by surprise. Answer me not. I grant thee time to recollect thyself.

(He rises, and retires at the back of the stage.
Max. remains for a long time motionless, in a
trance of excessive anguish. At his first motion
Wallenstein returns, and places himself before
him.)

Max. My General, this day thou makest me
Of age to speak in my own right and person,
For till this day I have been spared the trouble
To find out my own road. Thee have I follow'd
With most implicit, unconditional faith,
Sure of the right path if I follow'd thee.
To day, for the first time, dost thou refer
Me to myself, and forcest me to make
Election between thee and my own heart.

Wal. Soft cradled thee thy fortune till to-day :
Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport,
Indulge all lovely instincts, act for ever
With undivided heart. It can remain
No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads

Start from each other. Duties strive with duties.
Thou must needs choose thy party in the war
Which is now kindling 'twixt thy friend and him
Who is thy Emperor.

Мах.

War! is that the name?

War is as frightful as heaven's pestilence,
Yet it is good, is it heaven's will as that is.
Is that a good war, which against the Emperor
Thou wagest with the Emperor's own army?
O God of Heaven! what a change is this.

Beseems it me to offer such persuasion
To thee, who, like the fix'd star of the pole
Wert all I gaz'd at on life's trackless ocean?
O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!
The ingrained instinct of old reverence,
The holy habit of obediency,

Must I pluck live asunder from thy name?
Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me-
It always was a god looking at me!

Duke Wallenstein, its power is not departed:
The senses still are in thy bonds; although
Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself.

Wal.

Max, hear me.

Max. O! do it not, I pray thee, do it not!
There is a pure and noble soul within thee,
Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing.
Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only
Which hath polluted thee-and innocence,
It will not let itself be driv'n away

From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not,
Thou canst not end in this. It would reduce
All human creatures to disloyalty

Against the nobleness of their own nature.

"Twill justify the vulgar misbelief,

Which holdeth nothing noble in free will,

And trusts itself to impotence alone,

Made powerful only in an unknown power.

Wal. The world will judge me sternly; I expect it. Already have I said to my own self

All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids

Th' extreme-can he by going round avoid it?
But here there is no choice. Yes I must use

Or suffer violence-so stands the case,

There remains nothing possible but that.

Max. O that is never possible for thee! 'Tis the last desperate resource of those

Cheap souls, to whom their honour, their good name
Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep,
Which having stak'd and lost, they stake themselves
In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich,

And glorious; with an unpolluted heart

Thou canst make conquest of whate'er seems highest! But he, who once hath acted infamy,

Does nothing more in this world.

Wal. (grasps his hand)

Calmly, Max!

Much that is great and excellent will we
Perform together yet. And if we only
Stand on the height with dignity, 'tis soon
Forgotten, Max, by what road we ascended.
Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now,
That yet was deeply sullied in the winning.
To the evil spirit doth the earth belong,
Not to the good. All that the powers divine
Send from above, are universal blessings :
Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes,
But never yet was man enrich'd by them:
In their eternal realm no property

Is to be struggled for-all there is general.
The jewel, the all-valued gold we win
From the deceiving powers, deprav'd in nature,
That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light.
Not without sacrifices are they render'd
Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth
That e'er retir'd unsullied from their service.
Max. Whate'er is human, to the human being
Do I allow-and to the vehement

And striving spirit readily I pardon

Th' excess of action; but to thee, my general!

Above all others make I large concession.

For thou must move a world, and be the master

He kills thee, who condemns thee to inaction.

So be it then! maintain thee in thy post
By violence. Resist the Emperor,
And if it must be, force with force repel :
I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it.
But not-not to the traitor-yes!-the word
Is spoken out-

Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon.
That is no mere excess! that is no error
Of human nature—that is wholly diff'rent,
O that is black, black as the pit of hell!

(Wallenstein betrays a sudden agitation.) Thou canst not hear it nam'd, and wilt thou do it? O turn back to thy duty. That thou canst

I hold it certain. Send me to Vienna.

I'll make thy peace for thee with th' Emperor.
He knows thee not. But I do know thee.

He

Shall see thee, Duke! with my unclouded eye,

And I bring back his confidence to thee.

Wal. It is too late. Thou know'st not what has

happen'd.

Max. Were it too late, and were gone so far,

That a crime only could prevent thy fall,

Then-fall! fall honourably, even as thou stood'st.
Lose the command. Go from the stage of war.
Thou canst with splendour do it-do it too
With innocence. Thou hast liv'd much for others.
At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee.

My destiny, I never part from thine.

Wal. It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing Thy words, one after the other are the mile-stones Left fast behind by my post couriers,

Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra,

(Max. stands as convulsed, with a gesture and countenance expressing the most intense anguish.)

Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forc'd.

I cannot give assent to my own shame

And ruin. Thou-no-thou canst not forsake me!
So let us do, what must be done, with dignity,
With a firm step. What am I doing worse
Than did fam'd Cæsar at the Rubicon,
When he the legions led against his country,
The which his country had deliver'd to him?
Had he thrown down the sword, he had been lost,
As I were, if I but disarm'd myself.

I trace out something in me of his spirit.
Give me his luck, that other thing I'll bear.

(Max. quits him abruptly. Wallenstein, startled
and overpowered, continues looking after him,
and is still in this posture when Tertsky enters.)

Ter. It is as if the earth had swallow'd him. He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him I wish'd some words with him-but he was gone.