Open'd the strong hold to him without scruple.

For an imperial letter orders me

To follow your commands implicitly.

But yet forgive me: when even now I saw
The Duke himself, my scruples recommenced.
For truly, not like an attainted man,

Into this town did Friedland make his entrance;
His wonted majesty beam'd from his brow,
And calm, as in the days when all was right,
Did he receive from me the accounts of office;
'Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension;
But, sparing and with dignity, the Duke
Weigh'd every syllable of approbation,
As masters praise a servant who has done
His duty, and no more.

But.

'Tis all precisely

As I related in my letter. Friedland

Has sold the army to the enemy,

And pledg'd himself to give up Prague and Egra.
On this report the regiments all forsook him,
The five excepted that belong to Tertsky,

And which have follow'd him, as thou hast seen.
The sentence of attainder is pass'd on him,

And every loyal subject is required

To give him up to justice, dead or living.

Gor. A traitor to the Emperor-Such a noble ! Of such high talents! What is human greatness? I often said, this can't end happily.

His might, his greatness, and this obscure power Are but a cover'd pit-fall. The human being

May not be trusted to self-government.

The clear and written law, the deep trod foot-marks Of ancient custom, are all necessary

To keep him in the road of faith and duty.

The authority intrusted to this man
Was unexampled and unnatural,

Wo is me;

It plac'd him on a level with his Emperor,
Till the proud soul unlearn'd submission.
I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem
Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General,
We in our lucky mediocrity

Have ne'er experienc'd, cannot calculate,

What dangerous wishes such a height may breed
In the heart of such a man.

But.
Spare your laments
Till he need sympathy; for at this present
He is still mighty, and still formidable.
The Swedes advance to Egra by forc'd marches,
And quickly will the junction be accomplish'd.
This must not be! The Duke must never leave
This strong hold on free footing; for I have
Pledg'd life and honour here to hold him pris'ner,
And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.

Gor. O that I had not liv'd to see this day!
From his hand I receiv'd this dignity.
He did himself intrust this strong hold to me,
Which I am now requir'd to make his dungeon.
We subalterns have no will of our own:
The free, the mighty man alone may listen
To the fair impulse of his human nature.
Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law,
Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at.

But. Nay, let it not afflict you, that your power Is circumscrib'd. Much liberty, much error !

The narrow path of duty is securest.

Gor. And all, then, have deserted him, you say
He has built up the luck of many thousands,
For kingly was his spirit: his full hand

Was ever open. Many a one from dust

(with a side glance at Butler:)

Hath he selected, from the very dust

Hath rais'd him into dignity and honour.

And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchas'd,

Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour.

But. Here's one I see.

Gor.
I have enjoy'd from him
No grace or favour. I could almost doubt
If ever, in his greatness, he once thought on
An old friend of his youth. For still my office
Kept me at distance from him; and when first
He to this citadel appointed me,

He was sincere and serious in his duty.

I do not then abuse his confidence,

If I preserve my fealty in that,

Which to my fealty was first deliver❜d.

But. Say, then, will you fulfil th' attainder on him? Gor. (pauses reflecting-then as in deep dejection.) If it be so-if all be as you say

If he've betray'd the Emperor, his master,

Have sold the troops, have purpos'd to deliver
The strong holds of the country to the enemy—
Yea, truly!-there is no redemption for him-
Yet it is hard, that me the lot should destine
To be the instrument of his perdition ;
For we were pages at the court of Bergau
At the same period; but I was the senior.
But. I have heard so

Gor.

'Tis full thirty years since then. A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends: Yet even then he had a daring soul:

His frame of mind was serious and severe

Beyond his years; his dreams were of great objects.
He walk'd amidst us of a silent spirit,

Communing with himself: yet I have known him
Transported on a sudden into utterance

Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendour,
His soul reveal'd itself, and he spake so
That we look'd round perplex'd upon each other,
Not knowing whether it were craziness,

Or whether 't were a god that spoke in him.

But. But was it where he fell two story high From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep, And rose up free from injury? From this day (It is reported) he betray'd clear marks

Of a distemper'd fancy.

Gor.

He became,

Doubtless, more self-enwrapt and melancholy;

He made himself a Catholic. Marvellously
His marvellous preservation had transform'd him.
Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted
And privileg'd being, and, as if he were

Incapable of dizziness or fall,

He ran along the unsteady rope of life.

But now our destinies drove us asunder:

He pac'd with rapid step the way of greatness,

Was count, and prince, duke regent, and dictator.

And now is all, all this too little for him;

He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown,
And plunges in unfathomable ruin.

But. No more, he comes.

SCENE III.

To these enter Wallenstein, in conversation with the Burgomaster of Egra.

Wal. You were at one time a free town. Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms. Why the half eagle only?

Bur.

We were free,

I see,

But for these last two hundred years has Egra
Remain'd in pledge to the Bohemian crown;
Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half
Being cancell'd till the empire ransom us,

If ever that should be.

Wal.

Ye merit freedom.

Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears
To no designing, whispering court-minions.
What may your imposts be?

There are some Protestants among you still?

(The Burgomaster hesitates.)

Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd

Within these walls-Confess now-you yourself—

(Fixes his eye on him. The Burgomaster alarmed.)

Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits.

Could my will have determin'd it, they had

Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me

Mass-book or bible-'tis all one to me.

Of that the world has had sufficient proof.