University of Virginia Library

ACT V

Scene I

Scene—As in the preceding Act.
Wallenstein, Octavio Piccolomini.
Wallenstein
(coming forward in conversation).
He sends me word from Linz, that he lies sick;
But I have sure intelligence, that he
Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Galas.
Secure them both, and send them to me hither.
Remember, thou tak'st on thee the command
Of those same Spanish regiments,—constantly
Make preparation, and be never ready;
And if they urge thee to draw out against me,
Still answer yes, and stand as thou wert fettered.
I know, that it is doing thee a service
To keep thee out of action in this business.
Thou lovest to linger on in fair appearances;
Steps of extremity are not thy province,
Therefore have I sought out this part for thee.
Thou wilt this time be of most service to me
By thy inertness. The mean time, if fortune
Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know
What is to do.
Enter Max Piccolomini.
Now go, Octavio.
This night must thou be off, take my own horses:
Him here I keep with me—make short farewell—
Trust me, I think we all shall meet again
In joy and thriving fortunes.

Octavio
(to his son).
I shall see you
Yet ere I go.

Scene II

Wallenstein, Max Piccolomini.
Max
(advances to him).
My General!

Wallenstein.
That am I no longer, if
Thou styl'st thyself the Emperor's officer.

Max.
Then thou wilt leave the army, General?

Wallenstein.
I have renounced the service of the Emperor.

Max.
And thou wilt leave the army?

Wallenstein.
Rather hope I
To bind it nearer still and faster to me.
[He seats himself.
Yes, Max, I have delayed to open it to thee,
Even till the hour of acting 'gins to strike.
Youth's fortunate feeling doth seize easily
The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is
To exercise the single apprehension
Where the sums square in proof;
But where it happens, that of two sure evils
One must be taken, where the heart not wholly
Brings itself back from out the strife of duties,
There 'tis a blessing to have no election,
And blank necessity is grace and favour.
—This is now present: do not look behind thee,—
It can no more avail thee. Look thou forwards!
Think not! judge not! prepare thyself to act!
The Court—it hath determined on my ruin,
Therefore I will to be beforehand with them.
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 followed
With most implicit unconditional faith,
Sure of the right path if I followed 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.

Wallenstein.
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.

Max.
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 fixed star of the pole
Wert all I gazed 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 as 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.

Wallenstein.
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 driven 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.

Wallenstein.
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
The 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 staked 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.

Wallenstein
(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 enriched 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, depraved in nature,
That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light.
Not without sacrifices are they rendered
Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth
That e'er retired 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
The 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 different,
O that is black, black as the pit of hell!
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 the 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.

Wallenstein.
It is too late. Thou knowest not what has happened.

Max.
Were it too late, and were things 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.

Wallenstein.
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.
Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced.
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 famed Cæsar at the Rubicon,
When he the legions led against his country,
The which his country had delivered to him?
Had he thrown down the sword, he had been lost,
As I were, if I but disarmed 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.

Scene III

Wallenstein, Tertsky.
Tertsky.
Max Piccolomini just left you?

Wallenstein.
Where is Wrangel?

Tertsky.
He is already gone.

Wallenstein.
In such a hurry?

Tertsky.
It is as if the earth had swallowed him.
He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him.
I wished some words with him—but he was gone.
How, when, and where, could no one tell me. Nay,
I half believe it was the devil himself;
A human creature could not so at once
Have vanished.

Illo
(enters).
Is it true that thou wilt send
Octavio?

Tertsky.
How, Octavio! Whither send him?

Wallenstein.
He goes to Frauenberg, and will lead hither
The Spanish and Italian regiments.

Illo.
No!
Nay, Heaven forbid!

Wallenstein.
And why should Heaven forbid?

Illo.
Him!—that deceiver! Would'st thou trust to him
The soldiery? Him wilt thou let slip from thee,
Now, in the very instant that decides us—

Tertsky.
Thou wilt not do this!—No! I pray thee, no!

Wallenstein.
Ye are whimsical.

Illo.
O but for this time, Duke,
Yield to our warning! Let him not depart.

Wallenstein.
And why should I not trust him only this time,
Who have always trusted him? What, then, has happened,
That I should lose my good opinion of him?
In complaisance to your whims, not my own,
I must, forsooth, give up a rooted judgment.
Think not I am a woman. Having trusted him
E'en till to-day, to-day too will I trust him.

Tertsky.
Must it be he—he only? Send another.

Wallenstein.
It must be he, whom I myself have chosen;
He is well fitted for the business. Therefore
I gave it him.

Illo.
Because he's an Italian—
Therefore is he well fitted for the business.

Wallenstein.
I know you love them not—nor sire nor son—
Because that I esteem them, love them—visibly
Esteem them, love them more than you and others,
E'en as they merit. Therefore are they eye-blights,
Thorns in your foot-path. But your jealousies,
In what affect they me or my concerns?
Are they the worse to me because you hate them?
Love or hate one another as you will,
I leave to each man his own moods and likings;
Yet know the worth of each of you to me.

Illo.
Von Questenberg, while he was here, was always
Lurking about with this Octavio.

Wallenstein.
It happened with my knowledge and permission.

Illo.
I know that secret messengers came to him
From Galas—

Wallenstein.
That's not true.

Illo.
O thou art blind
With thy deep-seeing eyes.

Wallenstein.
Thou wilt not shake
My faith for me—my faith, which founds itself
On the profoundest science. If 'tis false,
Then the whole science of the stars is false.
For know, I have a pledge from fate itself,
That he is the most faithful of my friends.

Illo.
Hast thou a pledge, that this pledge is not false?

Wallenstein.
There exist moments in the life of man,
When he is nearer the great soul of the world
Than is man's custom, and possesses freely
The power of questioning his destiny:
And such a moment 'twas, when in the night
Before the action in the plains of Lützen,
Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts,
I looked out far upon the ominous plain.
My whole life, past and future, in this moment
Before my mind's eye glided in procession,
And to the destiny of the next morning
The spirit, filled with anxious presentiment,
Did knit the most removed futurity.
Then said I also to myself, ‘So many
Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars,
And as on some great number set their All
Upon thy single head, and only man
The vessel of thy fortune. Yet a day
Will come, when destiny shall once more scatter
All these in many a several direction:
Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee.’
I yearn'd to know which one was faithfullest
Of all, this camp included. Great Destiny,
Give me a sign! And he shall be the man,
Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first
To meet me with a token of his love:
And thinking this, I fell into a slumber.
Then midmost in the battle was I led
In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult!
Then was my horse killed under me: I sank:
And over me away, all unconcernedly,
Drove horse and rider—and thus trod to pieces
I lay, and panted like a dying man.
Then seized me suddenly a saviour arm;
It was Octavio's—I awoke at once,
'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me.
‘My brother,’ said he, ‘do not ride to-day
The dapple, as you're wont; but mount the horse
Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother!
In love to me. A strong dream warned me so.’
It was the swiftness of this horse that snatched me
From the hot pursuit of Bannier's dragoons.
My cousin rode the dapple on that day,
And never more saw I or horse or rider.

Illo.
That was a chance.

Wallenstein.
There's no such thing as chance.
In brief, 'tis signed and sealed that this Octavio
Is my good angel—and now no word more.

[He is retiring.
Tertsky.
This is my comfort—Max remains our hostage.

Illo.
And he shall never stir from here alive.

Wallenstein
(stops and turns himself round).
Are ye not like the women, who for ever
Only recur to their first word, although
One had been talking reason by the hour?
Know, that the human being's thoughts and deeds
Are not, like ocean billows, blindly moved.
The inner world, his microcosmus, is
The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally.
They grow by certain laws, like the tree's fruit—
No juggling chance can metamorphose them.
Have I the human kernel first examined?
Then I know, too, the future will and action.

Scene IV

Scene—A Chamber in Piccolomini's Dwelling-House.
Octavio Piccolomini, Isolani (entering).
Isolani.
Here am I—Well! who comes yet of the others?

Octavio.
But, first, a word with you, Count Isolani.

Isolani.
Will it explode, ha?—Is the Duke about
To make the attempt? In me, friend, you may place
Full confidence.—Nay, put me to the proof.

Octavio.
That may happen.

Isolani.
Noble brother, I am
Not one of those men who in words are valiant,
And when it comes to action skulk away.
The Duke has acted towards me as a friend.
God knows it is so; and I owe him all—
He may rely on my fidelity.

Octavio.
That will be seen hereafter.

Isolani.
Be on your guard,
All think not as I think; and there are many
Who still hold with the Court—yes, and they say
That those stolen signatures bind them to nothing.

Octavio.
I am rejoiced to hear it.

Isolani.
You rejoice!

Octavio.
That the Emperor has yet such gallant servants
And loving friends.

Isolani.
Nay, jeer not, I entreat you.
They are no such worthless fellows, I assure you.

Octavio.
I am assured already. God forbid
That I should jest!—In very serious earnest
I am rejoiced to see an honest cause
So strong.

Isolani.
The Devil!—what!—why, what means this?
Are you not, then—For what, then, am I here?

Octavio.
That you may make full declaration, whether
You will be called the friend or enemy
Of the Emperor.

Isolani.
That declaration, friend,
I'll make to him in whom a right is placed
To put that question to me.

Octavio.
Whether, Count,
That right is mine, this paper may instruct you.

Isolani.
Why,—why—what! This is the Emperor's hand and seal!
[Reads.
‘Whereas the officers collectively
Throughout our army will obey the orders
Of the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini
As from ourselves.’—Hem!—Yes! so!—Yes! yes!—
I—I give you joy, Lieutenant-General!

Octavio.
And you submit you to the order?

Isolani.
I—
But you have taken me so by surprise—
Time for reflection one must have—

Octavio.
Two minutes.

Isolani.
My God! But then the case is—

Octavio.
Plain and simple.
You must declare you, whether you determine
To act a treason 'gainst your Lord and Sovereign,
Or whether you will serve him faithfully.

Isolani.
Treason!—My God!—But who talks then of treason?

Octavio.
That is the case. The Prince-Duke is a traitor—
Means to lead over to the enemy
The Emperor's army.—Now, Count!—brief and full—
Say, will you break your oath to the Emperor?
Sell yourself to the enemy?—Say, will you?

Isolani.
What mean you? I—I break my oath, d'ye say,
To his Imperial Majesty?
Did I say so?—When, when have I said that?

Octavio.
You have not said it yet—not yet. This instant
I wait to hear, Count, whether you will say it.

Isolani.
Aye! that delights me now, that you yourself
Bear witness for me that I never said so.

Octavio.
And you renounce the Duke then?

Isolani.
If he's planning
Treason—why, treason breaks all bonds asunder.

Octavio.
And are determined, too, to fight against him?

Isolani.
He has done me service—but if he's a villain,
Perdition seize him!—All scores are rubbed off.

Octavio.
I am rejoiced that you're so well disposed.
This night break off in the utmost secrecy
With all the light-armed troops—it must appear
As came the order from the Duke himself.
At Frauenberg's the place of rendezvous;
There will Count Galas give you further orders.

Isolani.
It shall be done. But you'll remember me
With the Emperor—how well disposed you found me.

Octavio.
I will not fail to mention it honourably.
[Exit Isolani. A Servant enters.
What, Colonel Butler!—Shew him up.

Isolani
(returning).
Forgive me too my bearish ways, old father!
Lord God! how should I know, then, what a great
Person I had before me.

Octavio.
No excuses!

Isolani.
I am a merry lad, and if at time
A rash word might escape me 'gainst the court
Amidst my wine—You know no harm was meant.

[Exit.
Octavio.
You need not be uneasy on that score.
That has succeeded. Fortune favour us
With all the others only but as much!

Scene V

Octavio Piccolomini, Butler.
Butler.
At your command, Lieutenant-General.

Octavio.
Welcome, as honoured friend and visitor.

Butler.
You do me too much honour.

Octavio
(after both have seated themselves).
You have not
Returned the advances which I made you yesterday—
Misunderstood them, as mere empty forms.
That wish proceeded from my heart—I was
In earnest with you—for 'tis now a time
In which the honest should unite most closely.

Butler.
'Tis only the like-minded can unite.

Octavio.
True! and I name all honest men like-minded.
I never charge a man but with those acts
To which his character deliberately
Impels him; for alas! the violence
Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts
The very best of us from the right track.
You came through Frauenberg. Did the Count Galas
Say nothing to you? Tell me. He's my friend.

Butler.
His words were lost on me.

Octavio.
It grieves me sorely
To hear it: for his counsel was most wise.
I had myself the like to offer.

Butler.
Spare
Yourself the trouble—me th' embarrassment,
To have deserved so ill your good opinion.

Octavio.
The time is precious—let us talk openly.
You know how matters stand here. Wallenstein
Meditates treason—I can tell you further—
He has committed treason; but few hours
Have past, since he a covenant concluded
With the enemy. The messengers are now
Full on their way to Egra and to Prague.
To-morrow he intends to lead us over
To the enemy. But he deceives himself;
For prudence wakes—the Emperor has still
Many and faithful friends here, and they stand
In closest union, mighty though unseen.
This manifesto sentences the Duke—
Recalls the obedience of the army from him,
And summons all the loyal, all the honest,
To join and recognize in me their leader.
Choose—will you share with us an honest cause?
Or with the evil share an evil lot?

Butler
(rises).
His lot is mine.

Octavio.
Is that your last resolve?

Butler.
It is.

Octavio.
Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler!
As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast
That rashly uttered word remains interred.
Recall it, Butler! choose a better party:
You have not chosen the right one.

Butler
(going).
Any other
Commands for me, Lieutenant-General?

Octavio.
See your white hairs! Recall that word!

Butler.
Farewell!

Octavio.
What, would you draw this good and gallant sword
In such a cause? Into a curse would you
Transform the gratitude which you have earned
By forty years' fidelity from Austria?

Butler
(laughing with bitterness).
Gratitude from the House of Austria.

[He is going.
Octavio
(permits him to go as far as the door, then calls after him).
Butler!

Butler.
What wish you?

Octavio.
How was't with the Count?

Butler.
Count? what?

Octavio.
The title that you wished, I mean.

Butler
(starts in sudden passion).
Hell and damnation!

Octavio.
You petitioned for it—
And your petition was repelled—Was it so?

Butler.
Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunished.
Draw!

Octavio.
Nay! your sword to 'ts sheath! and tell me calmly,
How all that happened. I will not refuse you
Your satisfaction afterwards.—Calmly, Butler!

Butler.
Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness
For which I never can forgive myself.
Lieutenant-General! Yes—I have ambition.
Ne'er was I able to endure contempt.
It stung me to the quick, that birth and title
Should have more weight than merit has in the army.
I would fain not be meaner than my equal,
So in an evil hour I let myself
Be tempted to that measure—It was folly!
But yet so hard a penance it deserved not.
It might have been refused; but wherefore barb
And venom the refusal with contempt?
Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn
The grey-haired man, the faithful veteran?
Why to the baseness of his parentage
Refer him with such cruel roughness, only
Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself?
But nature gives a sting e'en to the worm
Which wanton power treads on in sport and insult.

Octavio.
You must have been calumniated. Guess you
The enemy, who did you this ill service?

Butler.
Be't who it will—a most low-hearted scoundrel,
Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard,
Some young squire of some ancient family,
In whose light I may stand, some envious knave,
Stung to his soul by my fair self-earned honours!

Octavio.
But tell me! Did the Duke approve that measure?

Butler.
Himself impelled me to it, used his interest
In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.

Octavio.
Ay? Are you sure of that?

Butler.
I read the letter.

Octavio.
And so did I—but the contents were different.
By chance I'm in possession of that letter—
Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

[He gives him the letter.
Butler.
Ha! what is this?

Octavio.
I fear me, Colonel Butler,
An infamous game have they been playing with you.
The Duke, you say, impelled you to this measure?
Now, in this letter talks he in contempt
Concerning you, counsels the Minister
To give sound chastisement to your conceit,
For so he calls it.
[Butler reads through the letter, his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it.
You have no enemy, no persecutor;
There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe
The insult you received to the Duke only.
His aim is clear and palpable. He wished
To tear you from your Emperor—he hoped
To gain from your revenge what he well knew
(What your long-tried fidelity convinced him)
He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason.
A blind tool would he make you, in contempt
Use you, as means of most abandoned ends.
He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded
In luring you away from that good path
On which you had been journeying forty years!

Butler.
Can e'er the Emperor's Majesty forgive me?

Octavio.
More than forgive you. He would fain compensate
For that affront, and most unmerited grievance
Sustained by a deserving, gallant veteran.
From his free impulse he confirms the present,
Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose.
The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

[Butler attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labours inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and

---

720

cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to Piccolomini.
Octavio.
What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.

Butler.
Take it.

Octavio.
But to what purpose? Calm yourself.

Butler.
O take it!
I am no longer worthy of this sword.

Octavio.
Receive it then anew from my hands—and
Wear it with honour for the right cause ever.

Butler.
—Perjure myself to such a gracious Sovereign!

Octavio.
You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the Duke!

Butler.
Break off from him!

Octavio.
What now? Bethink thyself.

Butler
(no longer governing his emotion).
Only break off from him?—He dies!—he dies!

Octavio.
Come after me to Frauenberg, where now
All who are loyal are assembling under
Counts Altringer and Galas. Many others
I've brought to a remembrance of their duty.
This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen.

Butler.
Count Piccolomini! Dare that man speak
Of honour to you, who once broke his troth?

Octavio.
He, who repents so deeply of it, dares.

Butler.
Then leave me here, upon my word of honour!

Octavio.
What's your design?

Butler.
Leave me and my regiment.

Octavio.
I have full confidence in you. But tell me
What are you brooding?

Butler.
That the deed will tell you.
Ask me no more at present. Trust to me.
Ye may trust safely. By the living God
Ye give him over, not to his good angel!
Farewell.

[Exit Butler.
Servant
(enters with a billet).
A stranger left it, and is gone.
The Prince-Duke's horses wait for you below.

[Exit Servant.
Octavio
(reads).
‘Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolan.’
—O that I had but left this town behind me.
To split upon a rock so near the haven!—
Away! This is no longer a safe place for me!
Where can my son be tarrying?

Scene VI

Octavio and Max Piccolomini.
Octavio
(advances to Max).
I am going off, my son.
[Receiving no answer he takes his hand.
My son, farewell.

Max.
Farewell.

Octavio.
Thou wilt soon follow me?

Max.
I follow thee?
Thy way is crooked—it is not my way.
[Octavio drops his hand, and starts back.
O, hadst thou been but simple and sincere,
Ne'er had it come to this—all had stood otherwise.
He had not done that foul and horrible deed,
The virtuous had retained their influence o'er him:
He had not fallen into the snares of villains.
Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice
Did'st creep behind him—lurking for thy prey?
O, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!
Thou misery-making demon, it is thou
That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth,
Sustainer of the world, had saved us all!
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!
Wallenstein has deceived me—O, most foully!
But thou hast acted not much better.

Octavio.
Son!
My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!

Max.
Was't possible? had'st thou the heart, my father,
Had'st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths,
With cold premeditated purpose? Thou—
Had'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty.
Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall.
Octavio, 'twill not please me.

Octavio.
God in Heaven!

Max.
O, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature.
How comes suspicion here—in the free soul?
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all
Lied to me, all what I e'er loved or honoured.
No! No! Not all! She—she yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the Heavens!
Deceit is every where, hypocrisy,
Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:
The single holy spot is now our love,
The only unprofaned in human nature.

Octavio.
Max!—we will go together. 'Twill be better.

Max.
What? ere I've taken a last parting leave,
The very last—no never!

Octavio.
Spare thyself
The pang of necessary separation.
Come with me! Come, my son!

[Attempts to take him with him.
Max.
No! as sure as God lives, no!

Octavio.
Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

Max.
Command me what is human. I stay here.

Octavio.
Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.

Max.
No Emperor has power to prescribe
Laws to the heart; and would'st thou wish to rob me
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly—steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race
Have steely souls—but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

Octavio.
Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.
O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

Max.
Squander not thou thy words in vain.
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

Octavio.
Max! Max! if that most damnéd thing could be,
If thou—my son—my own blood—(dare I think it?)
Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,
Do stamp this brand upon our noble house,
Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

Max.
O hadst thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion!
Unholy miserable doubt! To him
Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm,
Who has no faith.

Octavio.
And if I trust thy heart,
Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

Max.
The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpower'd—as little
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

Octavio.
O, Max! I see thee never more again!

Max.
Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

Octavio.
I go to Frauenberg—the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Toskana
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant contest
Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour.

Max.
Rely on this, I either leave my life
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.

Octavio.
Farewell, my son!

Max.
Farewell!

Octavio.
How? not one look
Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting?
It is a bloody war, to which we are going,
And the event uncertain and in darkness.
So used we not to part—it was not so!
Is it then true? I have a son no longer?

[Max falls into his arms, they hold each [other] for a long time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.
The Curtain drops.