University of Virginia Library

ACT I

Scene I

Scene—A Chamber in the House of the Duchess of Friedland.
Countess Tertsky, Thekla, Lady Neubrunn (the two latter sit at the same table at work).
Countess
(watching them from the opposite side).
So you have nothing, niece, to ask me? Nothing?
I have been waiting for a word from you.
And could you then endure in all this time
Not once to speak his name?
[The Countess rises and advances to her.
Why, how comes this?
Perhaps I am already grown superfluous,
And other ways exist, besides through me?
Confess it to me, Thekla! have you seen him?

Thekla.
To-day and yesterday I have not seen him.

Countess.
And not heard from him either? Come, be open!

Thekla.
No syllable.

Countess.
And still you are so calm?

Thekla.
I am.

Countess.
May't please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn!

[Exit Lady Neubrunn.

Scene II

The Countess, Thekla.
Countess.
It does not please me, Princess! that he holds
Himself so still, exactly at this time.

Thekla.
Exactly at this time?

Countess.
He now knows all.
'Twere now the moment to declare himself.

Thekla.
If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly.

Countess.
'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us.
Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart
Is now no more in nonage: for you love,
And boldness dwells with love—that you have proved.
Your nature moulds itself upon your father's
More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you
Hear, what were too much for her fortitude.

Thekla.
Enough! no further preface, I entreat you.
At once, out with it! Be it what it may,
It is not possible that it should torture me
More than this introduction. What have you
To say to me? Tell me the whole and briefly!

Countess.
You'll not be frightened—

Thekla.
Name it, I entreat you.

Countess.
It lies within your power to do your father
A weighty service—

Thekla.
Lies within my power?

Countess.
Max Piccolomini loves you. You can link him
Indissolubly to your father.

Thekla.
I?
What need of me for that? And is he not
Already linked to him?

Countess.
He was.

Thekla.
And wherefore
Should he not be so now—not be so always?

Countess.
He cleaves to the Emperor too.

Thekla.
Not more than duty
And honour may demand of him.

Countess.
We ask
Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honour.
Duty and honour!
Those are ambiguous words with many meanings.
You should interpret them for him: his love
Should be the sole definer of his honour.

Thekla.
How?

Countess.
The Emperor or you must he renounce.

Thekla.
He will accompany my father gladly
In his retirement. From himself you heard,
How much he wished to lay aside the sword.

Countess.
He must not lay the sword aside, we mean;
He must unsheath it in your father's cause.

Thekla.
He'll spend with gladness and alacrity
His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause,
If shame or injury be intended him.

Countess.
You will not understand me. Well, hear then!
Your father has fallen off from the Emperor,
And is about to join the enemy
With the whole soldiery—

Thekla.
Alas, my mother!

Countess.
There needs a great example to draw on
The army after him. The Piccolomini
Possess the love and reverence of the troops;
They govern all opinions, and wherever
They lead the way, none hesitate to follow.
The son secures the father to our interests—
You've much in your hands at this moment.

Thekla.
Ah,
My miserable mother! what a death-stroke
Awaits thee!—No! She never will survive it.

Countess.
She will accommodate her soul to that
Which is and must be. I do know your mother.
The far-off future weights upon her heart
With torture of anxiety; but is it
Unalterably, actually present,
She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly.

Thekla.
O my fore-boding bosom! Even now,
E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror!
And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp;
I knew it well—no sooner had I entered,
A heavy ominous presentiment
Revealed to me, that spirits of death were hovering
Over my happy fortune. But why think I
First of myself? My mother! O my mother!

Countess.
Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting!
Preserve you for your father the firm friend,
And for yourself the lover, all will yet
Prove good and fortunate.

Thekla.
Prove good? What good?
Must we not part? Part ne'er to meet again?

Countess.
He parts not from you! He can not part from you.

Thekla.
Alas for his sore anguish! It will rend
His heart asunder.

Countess.
If indeed he loves you,
His resolution will be speedily taken.

Thekla.
His resolution will be speedily taken—
O do not doubt of that! A resolution!
Does there remain one to be taken?

Countess.
Hush!
Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming.

Thekla.
How shall I bear to see her?

Countess.
Collect yourself.

Scene III

To them enter the Duchess.
Duchess
(to the Countess).
Who was here, sister? I heard some one talking,
And passionately too.

Countess.
Nay! There was no one.

Duchess.
I am grown so timorous, every trifling noise
Scatters my spirits, and announces to me
The footstep of some messenger of evil.
And can you tell me, sister, what the event is?
Will he agree to do the Emperor's pleasure,
And send the horse-regiments to the Cardinal?
Tell me, has he dismissed Von Questenberg
With a favourable answer?

Countess.
No, he has not.

Duchess.
Alas! then all is lost! I see it coming,
The worst that can come! Yes, they will depose him;
The accurséd business of the Regenspurg diet
Will all be acted o'er again!

Countess.
No! never!
Make your heart easy, sister, as to that.

[Thekla throws herself upon her mother, and enfolds her in her arms, weeping.
Duchess.
Yes, my poor child!
Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother
In the Empress. O that stern unbending man!
In this unhappy marriage what have I
Not suffered, not endured. For ev'n as if
I had been linked on to some wheel of fire
That restless, ceaseless, whirls impetuous onward,
I have passed a life of frights and horrors with him,
And ever to the brink of some abyss
With dizzy headlong violence he whirls me.
Nay, do not weep, my child! Let not my sufferings
Presignify unhappiness to thee,
Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits thee.
There lives no second Friedland: thou, my child,
Hast not to fear thy mother's destiny.

Thekla.
O let us supplicate him, dearest mother!
Quick! quick! here's no abiding-place for us.
Here every coming hour broods into life
Some new affrightful monster.

Duchess.
Thou wilt share
An easier, calmer lot, my child! We too,
I and thy father, witnessed happy days.
Still think I with delight of those first years,
When he was making progress with glad effort,
When his ambition was a genial fire,
Not that consuming flame which now it is.
The Emperor loved him, trusted him: and all
He undertook could not but be successful.
But since that ill-starred day at Regenspurg,
Which plunged him headlong from his dignity,
A gloomy uncompanionable spirit,
Unsteady and suspicious, has possessed him.
His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer
Did he yield up himself in joy and faith
To his old luck, and individual power;
But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections
All to those cloudy sciences, which never
Have yet made happy him who followed them.

Countess.
You see it, sister! as your eyes permit you.
But surely this is not the conversation
To pass the time in which we are waiting for him.
You know he will be soon here. Would you have him
Find her in this condition?

Duchess.
Come, my child!
Come, wipe away thy tears, and shew thy father
A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here
Is off—this hair must not hang so dishevelled.
Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform
Thy gentle eye—well now—what was I saying?
Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini
Is a most noble and deserving gentleman.

Countess.
That is he, sister!

Thekla
(to the Countess).
Aunt, you will excuse me?

[Is going.
Countess.
But whither? See, your father comes.

Thekla.
I cannot see him now.

Countess.
Nay, but bethink you.

Thekla.
Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence.

Countess.
But he will miss you, will ask after you.

Duchess.
What now? Why is she going?

Countess.
She's not well.

Duchess.
What ails then my beloved child?

[Both follow the Princess, and endeavour to detain her. During this Wallenstein appears, engaged in conversation with Illo.

Scene IV

Wallenstein, Illo, Countess, Duchess, Thekla.
Wallenstein.
All quiet in the camp?

Illo.
It is all quiet.

Wallenstein.
In a few hours may couriers come from Prague
With tidings, that this capital is ours.
Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops
Assembled in this town make known the measure
And its result together. In such cases
Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost
Still leads the herd. An imitative creature
Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other,
Than that the Pilsen army has gone through
The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen
They shall swear fealty to us, because
The example has been given them by Prague.
Butler, you tell me, has declared himself.

Illo.
At his own bidding, unsolicited,
He came to offer you himself and regiment.

Wallenstein.
I find we must not give implicit credence
To every warning voice that makes itself
Be listened to in the heart. To hold us back,
Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit
The voice of Truth and inward Revelation,
Scattering false oracles. And thus have I
To intreat forgiveness, for that secretly
I've wrong'd this honourable gallant man,
This Butler: for a feeling, of the which
I am not master (fear I would not call it),
Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering,
At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion.
And this same man, against whom I am warned,
This honest man is he, who reaches to me
The first pledge of my fortune.

Illo.
And doubt not
That his example will win over to you
The best men in the army.

Wallenstein.
Go and send
Isolani hither. Send him immediately.
He is under recent obligations to me.
With him will I commence the trial. Go.

[Illo exit.
Wallenstein
(turns himself round to the females).
Lo, there the mother with the darling daughter!
For once we'll have an interval of rest—
Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour
In the beloved circle of my family.

Countess.
'Tis long since we've been thus together, brother.

Wallenstein
(to the Countess aside).
Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared?

Countess.
Not yet.

Wallenstein.
Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me,
For there is a good spirit on thy lips.
Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill:
She says a voice of melody dwells in thee,
Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice
Will drive away from me the evil demon
That beats his black wings close above my head.

Duchess.
Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father
Hear some small trial of thy skill.

Thekla.
My mother!
I—

Duchess.
Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer
Thy father.

Thekla.
O my mother! I—I cannot.

Countess.
How, what is that, niece?

Thekla
(to the Countess).
O spare me—sing—now—in this sore anxiety,
Of the o'erburthen'd soul—to sing to him,
Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong
Into her grave!

Duchess.
How, Thekla? Humoursome?
What! shall thy father have expressed a wish
In vain?

Countess.
Here is the lute.

Thekla.
My God! how can I—

[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello Thekla expresses in her gestures and countenance the struggle of her feelings: and at the moment that she should begin to sing, contracts herself together, as one shuddering, throws the instrument down, and retires abruptly.
Duchess.
My child! O she is ill—

Wallenstein.
What ails the maiden?
Say, is she often so?

Countess.
Since then herself
Has now betrayed it, I too must no longer
Conceal it.

Wallenstein.
What?

Countess.
She loves him!

Wallenstein.
Loves him! Whom?

Countess.
Max does she love! Max Piccolomini.
Hast thou ne'er noticed it? Nor yet my sister?

Duchess.
Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart?
God's blessing on thee, my sweet child! Thou needest
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.

Countess.
This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it
To thine own self. Thou shouldest have chosen another
To have attended her.

Wallenstein.
And does he know it?

Countess.
Yes, and he hopes to win her.

Wallenstein.
Hopes to win her!
Is the boy mad?

Countess.
Well—hear it from themselves.

Wallenstein.
He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's daughter!
Aye?—The thought pleases me.
The young man has no grovelling spirit.

Countess.
Since
Such and such constant favour you have shewn him—

Wallenstein.
He chooses finally to be my heir.
And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honour him.
But must he therefore be my daughter's husband!
Is it daughters only? Is it only children
That we must shew our favour by?

Duchess.
His noble disposition and his manners—

Wallenstein.
Win him my heart, but not my daughter.

Duchess.
Then
His rank, his ancestors—

Wallenstein.
Ancestors! What?
He is a subject, and my son-in-law
I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe.

Duchess.
O dearest Albrecht! Climb we not too high,
Lest we should fall too low.

Wallenstein.
What? have I paid
A price so heavy to ascend this eminence,
And jut out high above the common herd,
Only to close the mighty part I play
In Life's great drama, with a common kinsman?
Have I for this— [pause.]
She is the only thing
That will remain behind of me on earth;
And I will see a crown around her head,
Or die in the attempt to place it there.
I hazard all—all! and for this alone,
To lift her into greatness—
Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speaking—
[pause.
And I must now, like a soft-hearted father,
Couple together in good peasant fashion
The pair, that chance to suit each other's liking—
And I must do it now, even now, when I
Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine
My full accomplished work—no! she is the jewel,
Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest,
And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me
For less than a king's sceptre.

Duchess.
O my husband!
You're ever building, building to the clouds,
Still building higher, and still higher building,
And ne'er reflect, that the poor narrow basis
Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.

Wallenstein
(to the Countess).
Have you announced the place of residence
Which I have destined for her?

Countess.
No! not yet.
'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her.

Duchess.
How? Do we not return to Karn then?

Wallenstein.
No.

Duchess.
And to no other of your lands or seats?

Wallenstein.
You would not be secure there.

Duchess.
Not secure
In the Emperor's realms, beneath the Emperor's
Protection?

Wallenstein.
Friedland's wife may be permitted
No longer to hope that.

Duchess.
O God in heaven!
And have you brought it even to this?

Wallenstein.
In Holland
You'll find protection.

Duchess.
In a Lutheran country?
What? And you send us into Lutheran countries?

Wallenstein.
Duke Franz of Lauenburg conducts you thither.

Duchess.
Duke Franz of Lauenburg?
The ally of Sweden, the Emperor's enemy.

Wallenstein.
The Emperor's enemies are mine no longer.

Duchess
(casting a look of terror on the Duke and the Countess).
Is it then true? It is. You are degraded?
Deposed from the command? O God in heaven!

Countess
(aside to the Duke).
Leave her in this belief. Thou seest she cannot
Support the real truth.

Scene V

To them enter Count Tertsky.
Countess.
—Tertsky!
What ails him? What an image of affright!
He looks as he had seen a ghost.

Tertsky
(leading Wallenstein aside).
Is it thy command that all the Croats—

Wallenstein.
Mine!

Tertsky.
We are betrayed.

Wallenstein.
What?

Tertsky.
They are off! This night
The Jägers likewise—all the villages
In the whole round are empty.

Wallenstein.
Isolani?

Tertsky.
Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely.

Wallenstein.
I?

Tertsky.
No! Hast thou not sent him off? Nor Deodate?
They are vanished both of them.

Scene VI

To them enter Illo.
Illo.
Has Tertsky told thee?

Tertsky.
He knows all.

Illo.
And likewise
That Esterhatzy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz,
Kolatto, Palfi, have forsaken thee?

Tertsky.
Damnation!

Wallenstein
(winks at them).
Hush!

Countess
(who has been watching them anxiously from the distance and now advances to them).
Tertsky! Heaven! What is it? What has happened?

Wallenstein
(scarcely suppressing his emotions).
Nothing! let us be gone!

Tertsky
(following him).
Theresa, it is nothing.

Countess
(holding him back).
Nothing? Do I not see, that all the lifeblood
Has left your cheeks—look you not like a ghost?
That even my brother but affects a calmness?

Page
(enters).
An Aid-de-Camp enquires for the Count Tertsky.

[Tertsky follows the Page.
Wallenstein.
Go, hear his business.
[To Illo.
This could not have happened
So unsuspected without mutiny.
Who was on guard at the gates?

Illo.
'Twas Tiefenbach.

Wallenstein.
Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay,
And Tertsky's grenadiers relieve him.
[Illo is going.
Stop!
Hast thou heard aught of Butler?

Illo.
Him I met.
He will be here himself immediately.
Butler remains unshaken.

[Illo exit. Wallenstein is following him.
Countess.
Let him not leave thee, sister! go, detain him!
There's some misfortune.

Duchess
(clinging to him).
Gracious heaven! What is it?

Wallenstein.
Be tranquil! leave me, sister! dearest wife!
We are in camp, and this is nought unusual;
Here storm and sunshine follow one another
With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits
Champ the curb angrily, and never yet
Did quiet bless the temples of the leader.
If I am to stay, go you. The plaints of women
Ill suit the scene where men must act.

[He is going: Tertsky returns.
Tertsky.
Remain here. From this window must we see it.

Wallenstein
(to the Countess).
Sister, retire!

Countess.
No—never.

Wallenstein.
'Tis my will.

Tertsky
(leads the Countess aside, and drawing her attention to the Duchess).
Theresa!

Duchess.
Sister, come! since he commands it.

Scene VII

Wallenstein, Tertsky.
Wallenstein
(stepping to the window).
What now, then?

Tertsky.
There are strange movements among all the troops,
And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously,
With gloomy silentness, the several corps
Marshal themselves, each under its own banners.
Tiefenbach's corps makes threatening movements; only
The Pappenheimers still remain aloof
In their own quarters, and let no one enter.

Wallenstein.
Does Piccolomini appear among them?

Tertsky.
We are seeking him: he is no where to be met with.

Wallenstein.
What did the Aid-de-Camp deliver to you?

Tertsky.
My regiments had dispatched him; yet once more
They swear fidelity to thee, and wait
The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager.

Wallenstein.
But whence arose this larum in the camp?
It should have been kept secret from the army,
Till fortune had decided for us at Prague.

Tertsky.
O that thou hadst believed me! Yester evening
Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker,
That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen.
Thou gav'st him thy own horses to flee from thee.

Wallenstein.
The old tune still! Now, once for all, no more
Of this suspicion—it is doting folly.

Tertsky.
Thou did'st confide in Isolani too;
And lo! he was the first that did desert thee.

Wallenstein.
It was but yesterday I rescued him
From abject wretchedness. Let that go by.
I never reckon'd yet on gratitude.
And wherein doth he wrong in going from me?
He follows still the god whom all his life
He has worshipped at the gaming table. With
My Fortune, and my seeming destiny,
He made the bond, and broke it not with me.
I am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed,
And with the which well-pleased and confident
He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it
In imminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks,
And hurries to preserve his wares. As light
As the free bird from the hospitable twig
Where it had nested, he flies off from me:
No human tie is snapped betwixt us two.
Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived,
Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man.
Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life
Impress their characters on the smooth forehead,
Nought sinks into the bosom's silent depth:
Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure
Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul
Warmeth the inner frame.

Tertsky.
Yet, would I rather
Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrowed one.

Scene VIII

Wallenstein, Tertsky, Illo.
Illo.
Treason and mutiny!

Tertsky.
And what further now?

Illo.
Tiefenbach's soldiers, when I gave the orders
To go off guard—Mutinous villains!

Tertsky.
Well!

Wallenstein.
What followed?

Illo.
They refused obedience to them.

Tertsky.
Fire on them instantly! Give out the order.

Wallenstein.
Gently! what cause did they assign?

Illo.
No other,
They said, had right to issue orders but
Lieutenant-General Piccolomini.

Wallenstein.
What? How is that?

Illo.
He takes that office on him by commission,
Under sign-manual of the Emperor.

Tertsky.
From the Emperor—hear'st thou, Duke?

Illo.
At his incitement
The Generals made that stealthy flight—

Tertsky.
Duke! hearest thou?

Illo.
Caraffa too, and Montecuculi,
Are missing, with six other Generals,
All whom he had induced to follow him.
This plot he has long had in writing by him
From the Emperor; but 'twas finally concluded
With all the detail of the operation
Some days ago with the Envoy Questenberg.

[Wallenstein sinks down into a chair and covers his face.
Tertsky.
O hadst thou but believed me!

Scene IX

To them enter the Countess.
Countess.
This suspense,
This horrid fear—I can no longer bear it.
For heaven's sake, tell me, what has taken place.

Illo.
The regiments are all falling off from us.

Tertsky.
Octavio Piccolomini is a traitor.

Countess.
O my foreboding!

[Rushes out of the room.
Tertsky.
Hadst thou but believed me!
Now seest thou how the stars have lied to thee.

Wallenstein.
The stars lie not; but we have here a work
Wrought counter to the stars and destiny.
The science is still honest: this false heart
Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven.
On a divine law divination rests;
Where nature deviates from that law, and stumbles
Out of her limits, there all science errs.
True, I did not suspect! Were it superstition
Never by such suspicion t'have affronted
The human form, O may that time ne'er come
In which I shame me of the infirmity.
The wildest savage drinks not with the victim
Into whose breast he means to plunge the sword.
This, this, Octavio, was no hero's deed:
'Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine;
A bad heart triumphed o'er an honest one.
No shield received the assassin stroke; thou plungest
Thy weapon on an unprotected breast—
Against such weapons I am but a child.

Scene X

To these enter Butler.
Tertsky
(meeting him).
O look there! Butler! Here we've still a friend!

Wallenstein
(meets him with outspread arms, and embraces him with warmth).
Come to my heart, old comrade! Not the sun
Looks out upon us more revivingly
In the earliest month of spring,
Than a friend's countenance in such an hour.

Butler.
My General: I come—

Wallenstein
(leaning on Butler's shoulders).
Know'st thou already?
That old man has betrayed me to the Emperor.
What say'st thou? Thirty years have we together
Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hardship.
We have slept in one camp-bed, drunk from one glass,
One morsel shared! I leaned myself on him,
As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder.
And now in the very moment, when, all love,
All confidence, my bosom beat to his,
He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife
Slowly into my heart.

[He hides his face on Butler's breast.
Butler.
Forget the false one.
What is your present purpose?

Wallenstein.
Well remembered!
Courage my soul! I am still rich in friends,
Still loved by Destiny; for in the moment,
That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite,
It sends and proves to me one faithful heart.
Of the hypocrite no more! Think not, his loss
Was that which struck the pang: O no! his treason
Is that which strikes this pang! No more of him!
Dear to my heart, and honoured were they both,
And the young man—yes—he did truly love me,
He—he—has not deceived me. But enough,
Enough of this—Swift counsel now beseems us.
The Courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from Prague
I expect him every moment: and whatever
He may bring with him, we must take good care
To keep it from the mutineers. Quick, then!
Dispatch some messenger you can rely on
To meet him, and conduct him to me.

[Illo is going.
Butler
(detaining him).
My General, whom expect you then?

Wallenstein.
The Courier
Who brings me word of the event at Prague.

Butler
(hesitating).
Hem!

Wallenstein.
And what now?

Butler.
You do not know it?

Wallenstein.
Well?

Butler.
From what that larum in the camp arose?

Wallenstein.
From what?

Butler.
That Courier.

Wallenstein.
Well?

Butler.
Is already here.

Tertsky and Illo
(at the same time).
Already here?

Wallenstein.
My Courier?

Butler.
For some hours.

Wallenstein.
And I not know it?

Butler.
The centinels detain him
In custody.

Illo.
Damnation!

Butler.
And his letter
Was broken open, and is circulated
Through the whole camp.

Wallenstein.
You know what it contains?

Butler.
Question me not.

Tertsky.
Illo! alas for us.

Wallenstein.
Hide nothing from me—I can hear the worst.
Prague then is lost. It is. Confess it freely.

Butler.
Yes! Prague is lost. And all the several regiments
At Budweiss, Tabor, Brannau, Konigingratz,
At Brun and Znaym, have forsaken you,
And ta'en the oaths of fealty anew
To the Emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Tertsky,
And Illo have been sentenced.

[Tertsky and Illo express alarm and fury. Wallenstein remains firm and collected.
Wallenstein.
'Tis decided!
'Tis well! I have received a sudden cure
From all the pangs of doubt: with steady stream
Once more my life-blood flows! My soul's secure!
In the night only Friedland's stars can beam.
Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears
I drew the sword—'twas with an inward strife,
While yet the choice was mine. The murderous knife
Is lifted for my heart! Doubt disappears!
I fight now for my head and for my life.

[Exit Wallenstein; the others follow him.

Scene XI

Countess Tertsky
(enters from a side room).
I can endure no longer. No!
[Looks around her.
Where are they?
No one is here. They leave me all alone,
Alone in this sore anguish of suspense.
And I must wear the outward shew of calmness
Before my sister, and shut in within me
The pangs and agonies of my crowded bosom.
It is not to be borne.—If all should fail;
If—if he must go over to the Swedes,
An empty-handed fugitive, and not
As an ally, a covenanted equal,
A proud commander with his army following;
If we must wander on from land to land,
Like the Count Palatine, of fallen greatness
An ignominious monument—But no!
That day I will not see! And could himself
Endure to sink so low, I would not bear
To see him so low sunken.

Scene XII

Countess, Duchess, Thekla.
Thekla
(endeavouring to hold back the Duchess).
Dear mother, do stay here!

Duchess.
No! Here is yet
Some frightful mystery that is hidden from me.
Why does my sister shun me? Don't I see her
Full of suspense and anguish roam about
From room to room?—Art thou not full of terror?
And what import these silent nods and gestures
Which stealthwise thou exchangest with her?

Thekla.
Nothing:
Nothing, dear Mother!

Duchess
(to the Countess).
Sister, I will know.

Countess.
What boots it now to hide it from her? Sooner
Or later she must learn to hear and bear it.
'Tis not the time now to indulge infirmity,
Courage beseems us now, a heart collected,
And exercise and previous discipline
Of fortitude. One word, and over with it!
Sister, you are deluded. You believe,
The Duke has been deposed—The Duke is not
Deposed—he is—

Thekla
(going to the Countess).
What? do you wish to kill her?

Countess.
The Duke is—

Thekla
(throwing her arms round her mother).
O stand firm! stand firm, my mother!

Countess.
Revolted is the Duke, he is preparing
To join the enemy, the army leave him,
And all has failed.