Well, let it be. I have long thought of it,

So let it burst then.

(Turns to Max.)

Well, how is it with thee?

Wilt thou attempt a heat with me. Away!
Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me,

Front against front, and lead them to the battle;

Thou'rt skill'd in war, thou hast learn'd somewhat under

me;

I need not be asham'd of my opponent,

And never hadst thou fairer opportunity
To pay me for thy schooling.

Coun.

Is it then,

Can it have come to this?-What! cousin, cousin!
Have you the heart?

Max. The regiments that are trusted to my care
I have pledg'd my troth to bring away from Pilsen
True to the Emperor, and this promise will I
Make good, or perish. More than this no duty
Requires of me. I will not fight against thee,
Unless compell'd; for though an enemy,
Thy head is holy to me still.

(Two reports of cannon; Illo and Tertsky hurry
to the window.)

Your messenger.

Wal. (starting up) Ha! Death and hell! I will

Ter. Expose thyself to their blind frenzy ?

Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them

Into a frenzy-fit-allow them time

Wal. Away! too long already have I loiter'd.
They are embolden'd to these outrages,
Beholding not my face. They shall behold
My countenance, shall hear my voice-

Are they not my troops? Am I not their general,
And their long-fear'd commander? Let me see,
Whether indeed they do no longer know

That countenance, which was their sun in battle!
From the balcony, (mark!) I show myself

To these rebellious forces, and at once

Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current
Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

[Exit Wallenstein; Illo, Tertsky, and Butler follow.

SCENE IX.

Countess, Duchess, Max., and Thekla

Coun. (to the Duchess) Let them but see him-there is hope still, sister.

Duch. Hope! I have none !

Max. (who during the last scene has been standing at a distance in a visible struggle of feelings,

advances,) This can I not endure.

With most determin'd soul did I come hither,
My purpos'd action seem'd unblameable
To my own conscience-and I must stand here
Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being;
Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!
Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,
Whom I, with one word, can make happy-O!
My heart revolts within me, and two voices
Make themselves audible within my bosom.
My soul's benighted; I no longer can
Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly
Didst thou say, father, I relied too much

On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro-
I know not what to do.

Coun.

What! you know not?
Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I
Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor,
A frightful traitor to us-he has plotted
Against our general's life, has plung'd us all
In misery-and you're his son! 'Tis yours
To make the amends-Make you the son's fidelity
Outweigh the father's treason, that the name
Of Piccolomini be not a proverb

Of infamy, a common form of cursing

To the posterity of Wallenstein.

Max. Where is that voice of truth which I dare

follow ?

It speaks no longer in my heart. We all
But utter what our passionate wishes dictate.
O that an angel would descend from Heaven,
And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted,
With a pure hand from the pure Fount of Light.
(His eyes glance on Thekla.)

What other angel seek I? To this heart,
To this unerring heart, will I submit it,

Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless
The happy man alone, averted ever

From the disquieted and guilty-canst thou
Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou can'st,

Max. I did not question thee as Friedland's daughter. Thee, the beloved, and the unerring god

Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake?
Not whether diadem of royalty

Be to be won or no-that mightst thou think on.
Thy friend, and his soul's quiet, are at stake;
The fortune of a thousand gallant men,
Who will all follow me: shall I forswear
My oath and duty to the Emperor?
Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp
The parricidial ball? For when the ball
Has left its cannon, and is on its flight,
It is no longer a dead instrument;

It lives, a spirit passes into it,

The avenging furies seize possession of it,

And with sure malice guide it the worst way.

Thek. O! Max.

Max. (interrupting her,) Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla.

I understand thee. To thy noble heart

The hardest duty might appear the highest.
The human, not the great part, would I act.
Ev'n from my childhood to this present hour,

Think what the Duke has done for

me, how lov'd me,

And think, too, how my father has repay'd him.

O likewise the free lovely impulses

Of hospitality, the pious friend's

Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy

Religion to the heart; and heavily

The shudderings of nature do avenge

Themselves on the barbarian that insults them.

Lay all upon the balance, all-then speak,

And let thy heart decide it.

Thek.

O, thy own

Hath long ago decided. Follow thou

Thy heart's first feeling

Coun.

Oh! ill-fated woman!

Thek. Is it possible, that that can be the right, The which thy tender heart did not at first

Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go,

Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee.

Whate'er thou hadst chosen, thou would'st still have

acted

Nobly and worthy of thee-but repentance

Shall ne'er disturb thy soul's fair peace.

Мах.

Then I

Being faithful

Must leave thee, must part from thee!

Thek.

To thine own self, thou art faithful, too, to me;

If our fates part, our hearts remain united.

A bloody hatred will divide for ever

The houses, Piccolomini and Friedland;
But we belong not to our houses-Go!

Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause

From our unholy and unblessed one!

The curse of heaven lies upon our head;