WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces in
     the Thirty Years' War.
  DUCHESS OF FREIDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein.
  THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland.
  THE COUNTESS TERZKY, Sister of the Duchess.
  LADY NEUBRUNN.
  OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General.
  MAX. PICCOLOMINI, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers.
  COUNT TERZKY, the Commander of several Regiments, and
     Brother-in-law of Wallenstein.
  ILLO, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein's Confidant.
  ISOLANI, General of the Croats.
  BUTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons.
  GORDON, Governor of Egra.
  MAJOR GERALDIN.
  CAPTAIN DEVEREUX.
  CAPTAIN MACDONALD.
  AN ADJUTANT.
  NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to TERZKY.
  COLONEL WRANGEL, Envoy from the Swedes.
  ROSENBURG, Master of Horse.
  SWEDISH CAPTAIN.
  SENI.
  BURGOMASTER of Egra.
  ANSPESSADE of the Cuirassiers.
  GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. | Belonging
  A PAGE.        | to the Duke.
  Cuirassiers, Dragoons, and Servants.

     A room fitted up for astrological labors, and provided with
     celestial charts, with globes, telescopes, quadrants, and other
     mathematical instruments. Seven colossal figures, representing the
     planets, each with a transparent star of different color on its
     head, stand in a semicircle in the background, so that Mars and
     Saturn are nearest the eye. The remainder of the scene and its
     disposition is given in the fourth scene of the second act. There
     must be a curtain over the figures, which may be dropped and conceal
     them on occasions.

     [In the fifth scene of this act it must be dropped; but in the
     seventh scene it must be again drawn up wholly or in part.]

     WALLENSTEIN at a black table, on which, a speculum astrologicum is
     described with chalk. SENI is taking observations through a window.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  All well—and now let it be ended, Seni. Come,
  The dawn commences, and Mars rules the hour;
  We must give o'er the operation. Come,
  We know enough.

  SENI.
           Your highness must permit me
  Just to contemplate Venus. She is now rising
  Like as a sun so shines she in the east.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  She is at present in her perigee,
  And now shoots down her strongest influences.
       [Contemplating the figure on the table.
  Auspicious aspect! fateful in conjunction,
  At length the mighty three corradiate;
  And the two stars of blessing, Jupiter
  And Venus, take between them the malignant
  Slyly-malicious Mars, and thus compel
  Into my service that old mischief-founder:
  For long he viewed me hostilely, and ever
  With beam oblique, or perpendicular,
  Now in the Quartile, now in the Secundan,
  Shot his red lightnings at my stars, disturbing
  Their blessed influences and sweet aspects:
  Now they have conquered the old enemy,
  And bring him in the heavens a prisoner to me.

  SENI (who has come down from the window).
  And in a corner-house, your highness—think of that!
  That makes each influence of double strength.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  And sun and moon, too, in the Sextile aspect,
  The soft light with the vehement—so I love it.
  Sol is the heart, Luna the head of heaven,
  Bold be the plan, fiery the execution.

  SENI.
  And both the mighty Lumina by no
  Maleficus affronted. Lo! Saturnus,
  Innocuous, powerless, in cadente Domo.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  The empire of Saturnus is gone by;
  Lord of the secret birth of things is he;
  Within the lap of earth, and in the depths
  Of the imagination dominates;
  And his are all things that eschew the light.
  The time is o'er of brooding and contrivance,
  For Jupiter, the lustrous, lordeth now,
  And the dark work, complete of preparation,
  He draws by force into the realm of light.
  Now must we hasten on to action, ere
  The scheme, and most auspicious positure
  Parts o'er my head, and takes once more its flight,
  For the heaven's journey still, and adjourn not.
       [There are knocks at the door.
  There's some one knocking there. See who it is.

  TERZKY (from without).
  Open, and let me in.

  WALLENSTEIN.
             Ay—'tis Terzky.
  What is there of such urgence? We are busy.

  TERZKY (from without).
  Lay all aside at present, I entreat you;
  It suffers no delaying.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Open, Seni!

     [While SENI opens the door for TERZKY, WALLENSTEIN draws the curtain
     over the figures.

     WALLENSTEIN, COUNT TERZKY.

  TERZKY (enters).
  Hast thou already heard it? He is taken.
  Gallas has given him up to the emperor.

     [SENI draws off the black table, and exit.

  WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY).
  Who has been taken? Who is given up?

  TERZKY.
  The man who knows our secrets, who knows every
  Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon,
  Through whose hands all and everything has passed——

  WALLENSTEIN (drawing back).
  Nay, not Sesina? Say, no! I entreat thee.

  TERZKY.
  All on his road for Regensburg to the Swede
  He was plunged down upon by Gallas' agent,
  Who had been long in ambush, lurking for him.
  There must have been found on him my whole packet
  To Thur, to Kinsky, to Oxenstiern, to Arnheim:
  All this is in their hands; they have now an insight
  Into the whole—our measures and our motives.

     To them enters ILLO.

  ILLO (to TERZKY).
  Has he heard it?

  TERZKY.
  He has heard it.

  ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN).
           Thinkest thou still
  To make thy peace with the emperor, to regain
  His confidence? E'en were it now thy wish
  To abandon all thy plans, yet still they know
  What thou hast wished: then forwards thou must press;
  Retreat is now no longer in thy power.

  TERZKY.
  They have documents against us, and in hands,
  Which show beyond all power of contradiction——

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Of my handwriting—no iota. Thee
  I punish or thy lies.

  ILLO.
              And thou believest,
  That what this man, and what thy sister's husband,
  Did in thy name, will not stand on thy reckoning?
  His word must pass for thy word with the Swede,
  And not with those that hate thee at Vienna?

  TERZKY.
  In writing thou gavest nothing; but bethink thee,
  How far thou venturedst by word of mouth
  With this Sesina! And will he be silent?
  If he can save himself by yielding up
  Thy secret purposes, will he retain them?

  ILLO.
  Thyself dost not conceive it possible;
  And since they now have evidence authentic
  How far thou hast already gone, speak! tell us,
  What art thou waiting for? Thou canst no longer
  Keep thy command; and beyond hope of rescue
  Thou'rt lost if thou resign'st it.

  WALLENSTEIN.
                    In the army
  Lies my security. The army will not
  Abandon me. Whatever they may know,
  The power is mine, and they must gulp it down
  And if I give them caution for my fealty,
  They must be satisfied, at least appear so.

  ILLO.
  The army, duke, is thine now; for this moment
  'Tis thine: but think with terror on the slow,
  The quiet power of time. From open violence
  The attachment of thy soldiery secures thee
  To-day, to-morrow: but grant'st thou them a respite,
  Unheard, unseen, they'll undermine that love
  On which thou now dost feel so firm a footing,
  With wily theft will draw away from thee
  One after the other——

  WALLENSTEIN.
              'Tis a cursed accident!
  Oh! I will call it a most blessed one,
  If it work on thee as it ought to do,
  Hurry thee on to action—to decision.
  The Swedish general?

  WALLENSTEIN.
             He's arrived! Know'st
  What his commission is——

  ILLO.
               To thee alone
  Will he intrust the purpose of his coming.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  A cursed, cursed accident! Yes, yes,
  Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent.

  TERZKY.
  He's a Bohemian fugitive and rebel,
  His neck is forfeit. Can he save himself
  At thy cost, think you he will scruple it?
  And if they put him to the torture, will he,
  Will he, that dastardling, have strength enough——

  WALLENSTEIN (lost in thought).
  Their confidence is lost, irreparably!
  And I may act which way I will, I shall
  Be and remain forever in their thought
  A traitor to my country. How sincerely
  Soever I return back to my duty,
  It will no longer help me——

  ILLO.
                 Ruin thee,
  That it will do! Not thy fidelity,
  Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion——

  WALLENSTEIN (pacing up and down in extreme agitation).
  What! I must realize it now in earnest,
  Because I toyed too freely with the thought!
  Accursed he who dallies with a devil!
  And must I—I must realize it now—
  Now, while I have the power, it must take place!

  ILLO.
  Now—now—ere they can ward and parry it!

  WALLENSTEIN (looking at the paper of Signatures).
  I have the generals' word—a written promise!
  Max. Piccolomini stands not here—how's that?

  TERZRY.
  It was—he fancied——

  ILLO.
             Mere self-willedness.
  There needed no such thing 'twixt him and you.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  He is quite right; there needed no such thing.
  The regiments, too, deny to march for Flanders
  Have sent me in a paper of remonstrance,
  And openly resist the imperial orders.
  The first step to revolt's already taken.

  ILLO.
  Believe me, thou wilt find it far more easy
  To lead them over to the enemy
  Than to the Spaniard.

  WALLENSTEIN.
              I will hear, however,
  What the Swede has to say to me.

  ILLO (eagerly to TERZKY).
                   Go, call him,
  He stands without the door in waiting.

  WALLENSTEIN.
                      Stay!
  Stay but a little. It hath taken me
  All by surprise; it came too quick upon me;
  'Tis wholly novel that an accident,
  With its dark lordship, and blind agency,
  Should force me on with it.

  ILLO.
                 First hear him only,
  And then weigh it.

            [Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.

  WALLENSTEIN (in soliloquy).
              Is it possible?
  Is't so? I can no longer what I would?
  No longer draw back at my liking? I
  Must do the deed, because I thought of it?
  And fed this heart here with a dream?
  Because I did not scowl temptation from my presence,
  Dallied with thoughts of possible fulfilment,
  Commenced no movement, left all time uncertain,
  And only kept the road, the access open?
  By the great God of Heaven! it was not
  My serious meaning, it was ne'er resolved.
  I but amused myself with thinking of it.
  The free-will tempted me, the power to do
  Or not to do it. Was it criminal
  To make the fancy minister to hope,
  To fill the air with pretty toys of air,
  And clutch fantastic sceptres moving toward me?
  Was not the will kept free? Beheld I not
  The road of duty close beside me—but
  One little step, and once more I was in it!
  Where am I? Whither have I been transported?
  No road, no track behind me, but a wall,
  Impenetrable, insurmountable,
  Rises obedient to the spells I muttered
  And meant not—my own doings tower behind me.
       [Pauses and remains in deep thought.
  A punishable man I seem, the guilt,
  Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me;
  The equivocal demeanor of my life
  Bears witness on my prosecutor's party.
  And even my purest acts from purest motives
  Suspicion poisons with malicious gloss.
  Were I that thing for which I pass, that traitor,
  A goodly outside I had sure reserved,
  Had drawn the coverings thick and double round me,
  Been calm and chary of my utterance;
  But being conscious of the innocence
  Of my intent, my uncorrupted will,
  I gave way to my humors, to my passion:
  Bold were my words, because my deeds were not.
  Now every planless measure, chance event,
  The threat of rage, the vaunt of joy and triumph,
  And all the May-games of a heart overflowing,
  Will they connect, and weave them all together
  Into one web of treason; all will be plan,
  My eye ne'er absent from the far-off mark,
  Step tracing step, each step a politic progress;
  And out of all they'll fabricate a charge
  So specious, that I must myself stand dumb.
  I am caught in my own net, and only force,
  Naught but a sudden rent can liberate me.

                 [Pauses again.

  How else! since that the heart's unbiased instinct
  Impelled me to the daring deed, which now
  Necessity, self-preservation, orders.
  Stern is the on-look of necessity,
  Not without shudder may a human hand
  Grasp the mysterious urn of destiny.
  My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom;
  Once suffered to escape from its safe corner
  Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace,
  Sent forth into the foreign, it belongs
  Forever to those sly malicious powers
  Whom never art of man conciliated.

     [Paces in agitation through the chamber, then pauses, and, after
     the pause, breaks out again into audible soliloquy.

  What is thy enterprise? thy aim? thy object?
  Hast honestly confessed it to thyself?
  Power seated on a quiet throne thou'dst shake,
  Power on an ancient, consecrated throne,
  Strong in possession, founded in all custom;
  Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots
  Fixed to the people's pious nursery faith.
  This, this will be no strife of strength with strength.
  That feared I not. I brave each combatant,
  Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye,
  Who, full himself of courage, kindles courage
  In me too. 'Tis a foe invisible
  The which I fear—a fearful enemy,
  Which in the human heart opposes me,
  By its coward fear alone made fearful to me.
  Not that, which full of life, instinct with power,
  Makes known its present being; that is not
  The true, the perilously formidable.
  O no! it is the common, the quite common,
  The thing of an eternal yesterday.
  Whatever was, and evermore returns,
  Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling!
  For of the wholly common is man made,
  And custom is his nurse! Woe then to them
  Who lay irreverent hands upon his old
  House furniture, the dear inheritance
  From his forefathers! For time consecrates;
  And what is gray with age becomes religion.
  Be in possession, and thou hast the right,
  And sacred will the many guard it for thee!

     [To the PAGE,—who here enters.

  The Swedish officer? Well, let him enter.

     [The PAGE exit, WALLENSTEIN fixes his eye in deep thought
     on the door.

  Yet, it is pure—as yet!—the crime has come
  Not o'er this threshold yet—so slender is
  The boundary that divideth life's two paths.

     WALLENSTEIN and WRANGEL.

  WALLENSTEIN (after having fixed a searching look on him).
  Your name is Wrangel?

  WRANGEL.
              Gustave Wrangel, General
  Of the Sudermanian Blues.

  WALLENSTEIN.
                It was a Wrangel
  Who injured me materially at Stralsund,
  And by his brave resistance was the cause
  Of the opposition which that seaport made.

  WRANGEL.
  It was the doing of the element
  With which you fought, my lord! and not my merit,
  The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom:
  The sea and land, it seemed were not to serve
  One and the same.

  WALLENSTEIN
  You plucked the admiral's hat from off my head.

  WRANGEL.
  I come to place a diadem thereon.

  WALLENSTEIN (makes the motion for him to take a seat, and seats himself).
           And where are your credentials
  Come you provided with full powers, sir general?

  WRANGEL.
  There are so many scruples yet to solve——

  WALLENSTEIN (having read the credentials).
  An able letter! Ay—he is a prudent,
  Intelligent master whom you serve, sir general!
  The chancellor writes me that he but fulfils
  His late departed sovereign's own idea
  In helping me to the Bohemian crown.

  WRANGEL.
  He says the truth. Our great king, now in heaven,
  Did ever deem most highly of your grace's
  Pre-eminent sense and military genius;
  And always the commanding intellect,
  He said, should have command, and be the king.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Yes, he might say it safely. General Wrangel,
        [Taking his hand affectionately.
  Come, fair and open. Trust me, I was always
  A Swede at heart. Eh! that did you experience
  Both in Silesia and at Nuremberg;
  I had you often in my power, and let you
  Always slip out by some back door or other.
  'Tis this for which the court can ne'er forgive me,
  Which drives me to this present step: and since
  Our interests so run in one direction,
  E'en let us have a thorough confidence
  Each in the other.

  WRANGEL.
            Confidence will come
  Has each but only first security.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  The chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me;
  And, I confess—the game does not lie wholly
  To my advantage. Without doubt he thinks,
  If I can play false with the emperor,
  Who is my sovereign, I can do the like
  With the enemy, and that the one, too, were
  Sooner to be forgiven me than the other.
  Is not this your opinion, too, sir general?

  WRANGEL.
  I have here a duty merely, no opinion.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  The emperor hath urged me to the uttermost
  I can no longer honorably serve him.
  For my security, in self-defence,
  I take this hard step, which my conscience blames.

  WRANGEL.
  That I believe. So far would no one go
  Who was not forced to it.
             [After a pause.
                What may have impelled
  Your princely highness in this wise to act
  Toward your sovereign lord and emperor,
  Beseems not us to expound or criticise.
  The Swede is fighting for his good old cause,
  With his good sword and conscience. This concurrence,
  This opportunity is in our favor,
  And all advantages in war are lawful.
  We take what offers without questioning;
  And if all have its due and just proportions——

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Of what then are ye doubting? Of my will?
  Or of my power? I pledged me to the chancellor,
  Would he trust me with sixteen thousand men,
  That I would instantly go over to them
  With eighteen thousand of the emperor's troops.

  WRANGEL.
  Your grace is known to be a mighty war-chief,
  To be a second Attila and Pyrrhus.
  'Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment,
  How some years past, beyond all human faith,
  You called an army forth like a creation:
  But yet——

  WALLENSTEIN.
        But yet?

  WRANGEL.
             But still the chancellor thinks
  It might yet be an easier thing from nothing
  To call forth sixty thousand men of battle,
  Than to persuade one-sixtieth part of them——

  WALLENSTEIN.
  What now? Out with it, friend?

  WRANGEL.
                   To break their oaths.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  And he thinks so? He judges like a Swede,
  And like a Protestant. You Lutherans
  Fight for your Bible. You are interested
  About the cause; and with your hearts you follow
  Your banners. Among you whoe'er deserts
  To the enemy hath broken covenant
  With two lords at one time. We've no such fancies.

  WRANGEL.
  Great God in heaven! Have then the people here
  No house and home, no fireside, no altar?

  WALLENSTEIN.
  I will explain that to you, how it stands:
  The Austrian has a country, ay, and loves it,
  And has good cause to love it—but this army
  That calls itself the imperial, this that houses
  Here in Bohemia, this has none—no country;
  This is an outcast of all foreign lands,
  Unclaimed by town or tribe, to whom belongs
  Nothing except the universal sun.
  And this Bohemian land for which we fight
  Loves not the master whom the chance of war,
  Not its own choice or will, hath given to it.
  Men murmur at the oppression of their conscience,
  And power hath only awed but not appeased them.
  A glowing and avenging memory lives
  Of cruel deeds committed on these plains;
  How can the son forget that here his father
  Was hunted by the bloodhound to the mass?
  A people thus oppressed must still be feared,
  Whether they suffer or avenge their wrongs.

  WRANGEL.
  But then the nobles and the officers?
  Such a desertion, such a felony,
  It is without example, my lord duke,
  In the world's history.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               They are all mine—
  Mine unconditionally—mine on all terms.
  Not me, your own eyes you must trust.

     [He gives him the paper containing the written oath. WRANGEL reads
     it through, and, having read it, lays it on the table,—remaining
     silent.

                      So then;
  Now comprehend you?

  WRANGEL.
             Comprehend who can!
  My lord duke, I will let the mask drop—yes!
  I've full powers for a final settlement.
  The Rhinegrave stands but four days' march from here
  With fifteen thousand men, and only waits
  For orders to proceed and join your army.
  These orders I give out immediately
  We're compromised.

  WALLENSTEIN.
            What asks the chancellor?

  WRANGEL (considerately).
  Twelve regiments, every man a Swede—my head
  The warranty—and all might prove at last
  Only false play——

  WALLENSTEIN (starting).
            Sir Swede!

  WRANGEL (calmly proceeding).
                  Am therefore forced
  To insist thereon, that he do formally,
  Irrevocably break with the emperor,
  Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Come, brief and open! What is the demand?

  WRANGEL.
  That he forthwith disarm the Spanish regiments
  Attached to the emperor, that he seize on Prague,
  And to the Swedes give up that city, with
  The strong pass Egra.

  WALLENSTEIN.
              That is much indeed!
  Prague!—Egra's granted—but—but Prague! 'Twon't do.
  I give you every security
  Which you may ask of me in common reason—
  But Prague—Bohemia—these, sir general,
  I can myself protect.

  WRANGEL.
              We doubt it not.
  But 'tis not the protection that is now
  Our sole concern. We want security,
  That we shall not expend our men and money
  All to no purpose.

  WALLENSTEIN.
            'Tis but reasonable.

  WRANGEL.
  And till we are indemnified, so long
  Stays Prague in pledge.

  WALLENSTEIN.
               Then trust you us so little?

  WRANGEL (rising).
  The Swede, if he would treat well with the German,
  Must keep a sharp lookout. We have been called
  Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire
  From ruin—with our best blood have we sealed
  The liberty of faith and gospel truth.
  But now already is the benefaction
  No longer felt, the load alone is felt.
  Ye look askance with evil eye upon us,
  As foreigners, intruders in the empire,
  And would fain send us with some paltry sum
  Of money, home again to our old forests.
  No, no! my lord duke! it never was
  For Judas' pay, for chinking gold and silver,
  That we did leave our king by the Great Stone. 1  No, not for gold and silver have there bled
  So many of our Swedish nobles—neither
  Will we, with empty laurels for our payment,
  Hoist sail for our own country. Citizens
  Will we remain upon the soil, the which
  Our monarch conquered for himself and died.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Help to keep down the common enemy,
  And the fair border land must needs be yours.

  WRANGEL.
  But when the common enemy lies vanquished,
  Who knits together our new friendship then?
  We know, Duke Friedland! though perhaps the Swede
  Ought not to have known it, that you carry on
  Secret negotiations with the Saxons.
  Who is our warranty that we are not
  The sacrifices in those articles
  Which 'tis thought needful to conceal from us?

  WALLENSTEIN (rises).
  Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel!
  Of Prague no more.

  WRANGEL.
            Here my commission ends.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Surrender up to you my capital!
  Far liever would I force about, and step
  Back to my emperor.

  WRANGEL.
             If time yet permits——

  WALLENSTEIN.
  That lies with me, even now, at any hour.

  WRANGEL.
  Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer;
  No longer since Sesina's been a prisoner.
     [WALLENSTEIN is struck, and silenced.
  My lord duke, hear me—we believe that you
  At present do mean honorably by us.
  Since yesterday we're sure of that—and now
  This paper warrants for the troops, there's nothing
  Stands in the way of our full confidence.
  Prague shall not part us. Hear! The chancellor
  Contents himself with Alstadt; to your grace
  He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side.
  But Egra above all must open to us,
  Ere we can think of any junction.

  WALLENSTEIN.
                    You,
  You therefore must I trust, and not you me?
  I will consider of your proposition.

  WRANGEL.
  I must entreat that your consideration
  Occupy not too long a time. Already
  Has this negotiation, my lord duke!
  Crept on into the second year. If nothing
  Is settled this time, will the chancellor
  Consider it as broken off forever?

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Ye press me hard. A measure such as this
  Ought to be thought of.

  WRANGEL.
               Ay! but think of this too,
  That sudden action only can procure it.
  Success—think first of this, your highness.

                 [Exit WRANGEL.

     WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, and ILLO (re-enter).

  ILLO.
  Is't all right?

  TERZKY.
           Are you compromised?

  ILLO.
                      This Swede
  Went smiling from you. Yes! you're compromised.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  As yet is nothing settled; and (well weighed)
  I feel myself inclined to leave it so.

  TERZKY.
  How? What is that?

  WALLENSTEIN.
             Come on me what will come,
  The doing evil to avoid an evil
  Cannot be good!

  TERZKY.
           Nay, but bethink you, duke.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  To live upon the mercy of these Swedes!
  Of these proud-hearted Swedes!—I could not bear it.

  ILLO.
  Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant?
  Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest?

  WALLENSTEIN.
  How fared it with the brave and royal Bourbon
  Who sold himself unto his country's foes,
  And pierced the bosom of his father-land?
  Curses were his reward, and men's abhorrence
  Avenged the unnatural and revolting deed.

  ILLO.
  Is that thy case?

  WALLENSTEIN.
            True faith, I tell thee,
  Must ever be the dearest friend of man
  His nature prompts him to assert its rights.
  The enmity of sects, the rage of parties,
  Long-cherished envy, jealousy, unite;'
  And all the struggling elements of evil
  Suspend their conflict, and together league
  In one alliance 'gainst their common foe—
  The savage beast that breaks into the fold,
  Where men repose in confidence and peace.
  For vain were man's own prudence to protect him.
  'Tis only in the forehead nature plants
  The watchful eye; the back, without defence,
  Must find its shield in man's fidelity.

  TERZKY.
  Think not more meanly off thyself than do
  Thy foes, who stretch their hands with joy to greet thee.
  Less scrupulous far was the imperial Charles,
  The powerful head of this illustrious house;
  With open arms he gave the Bourbon welcome;
  For still by policy the world is ruled.

     To these enter the COUNTESS TERZKY.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Who sent for you? There is no business here
  For women.

  COUNTESS
        I am come to bid you joy.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Use thy authority, Terzky; bid her go.

  COUNTESS.
  Come I perhaps too early? I hope not.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you:
  You know it is the weapon that destroys me.
  I am routed, if a woman but attack me:
  I cannot traffic in the trade of words
  With that unreasoning sex.

  COUNTESS.
                I had already
  Given the Bohemians a king.

  WALLENSTEIN (sarcastically).
                 They have one,
  In consequence, no doubt.

  COUNTESS (to the others).
                Ha! what new scruple?

  TERZKY.
  The duke will not.

  COUNTESS.
            He will not what he must!

  ILLO.
  It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced
  When folks begin to talk to me of conscience
  And of fidelity.

  COUNTESS.
           How? then, when all
  Lay in the far-off distance, when the road
  Stretched out before thine eyes interminably,
  Then hadst thou courage and resolve; and now,
  Now that the dream is being realized,
  The purpose ripe, the issue ascertained,
  Dost thou begin to play the dastard now?
  Planned merely, 'tis a common felony;
  Accomplished, an immortal undertaking:
  And with success comes pardon hand in hand,
  For all event is God's arbitrament.

  SERVANT (enters).
  The Colonel Piccolomini.

  COUNTESS (hastily).
              —Must wait.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  I cannot see him now. Another time.

  SERVANT.
  But for two minutes he entreats an audience
  Of the most urgent nature is his business.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Who knows what he may bring us! I will hear him.

  COUNTESS (laughs).
  Urgent for him, no doubt? but thou may'st wait.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  What is it?

  COUNTESS.
         Thou shalt be informed hereafter.
  First let the Swede and thee be compromised.

                   [Exit SERVANT.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder
  Way of escape were possible—I still
  Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.

  COUNTESS.
  Desirest thou nothing further? Such a way
  Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off.
  Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away
  All thy past life; determine to commence
  A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too,
  As well as fame and fortune. To Vienna
  Hence—to the emperor—kneel before the throne;
  Take a full coffer with thee—say aloud,
  Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty;
  Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.

  ILLO.
  For that too 'tis too late. They know too much;
  He would but bear his own head to the block.

  COUNTESS.
  I fear not that. They have not evidence
  To attaint him legally, and they avoid
  The avowal of an arbitrary power.
  They'll let the duke resign without disturbance.
  I see how all will end. The King of Hungary
  Makes his appearance, and 'twill of itself
  Be understood, and then the duke retires.
  There will not want a formal declaration.
  The young king will administer the oath
  To the whole army; and so all returns
  To the old position. On some morrow morning
  The duke departs; and now 'tis stir and bustle
  Within his castles. He will hunt and build;
  Superintend his horses' pedigrees,
  Creates himself a court, gives golden keys,
  And introduceth strictest ceremony
  In fine proportions, and nice etiquette;
  Keeps open table with high cheer: in brief,
  Commenceth mighty king—in miniature.
  And while he prudently demeans himself,
  And gives himself no actual importance,
  He will be let appear whate'er he likes:
  And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear
  A mighty prince to his last dying hour?
  Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others,
  A fire-new noble, whom the war hath raised
  To price and currency, a Jonah's gourd,
  An over-night creation of court-favor,
  Which, with an undistinguishable ease,
  Makes baron or makes prince.

  WALLENSTEIN (in extreme agitation).
                 Take her away.
  Let in the young Count Piccolomini.

  COUNTESS.
  Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee!
  Canst thou consent to bear thyself to thy own grave,
  So ignominiously to be dried up?
  Thy life, that arrogated such an height
  To end in such a nothing! To be nothing,
  When one was always nothing, is an evil
  That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil;
  But to become a nothing, having been——

  WALLENSTEIN (starts up in violent agitation).
  Show me a way out of this stifling crowd,
  Ye powers of aidance! Show me such a way
  As I am capable of going. I
  Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler;
  I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say
  To the good luck that turns her back upon me
  Magnanimously: "Go; I need thee not."
  Cease I to work, I am annihilated.
  Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun,
  If so I may avoid the last extreme;
  But ere I sink down into nothingness,
  Leave off so little, who began so great,
  Ere that the world confuses me with those
  Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles,
  This age and after ages 2 speak my name
  With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption
  For each accursed deed.

  COUNTESS.
               What is there here, then,
  So against nature? Help me to perceive it!
  Oh, let not superstition's nightly goblins
  Subdue thy clear, bright spirit! Art thou bid
  To murder? with abhorred, accursed poniard,
  To violate the breasts that nourished thee?
  That were against our nature, that might aptly
  Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken. 3  Yet not a few, and for a meaner object,
  Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it.
  What is there in thy case so black and monstrous?
  Thou art accused of treason—whether with
  Or without justice is not now the question—
  Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly
  Of the power which thou possessest—Friedland! Duke!
  Tell me where lives that thing so meek and tame,
  That doth not all his living faculties
  Put forth in preservation of his life?
  What deed so daring, which necessity
  And desperation will not sanctify?

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me;
  He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed
  The nearest to his heart. Full many a time
  We like familiar friends, both at one table,
  Have banqueted together—he and I;
  And the young kings themselves held me the basin
  Wherewith to wash me—and is't come to this?

  COUNTESS.
  So faithfully preservest thou each small favor,
  And hast no memory for contumelies?
  Must I remind thee, how at Regensburg
  This man repaid thy faithful services?
  All ranks and all conditions in the empire
  Thou hadst wronged to make him great,—hadst loaded on thee,
  On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world.
  No friend existed for thee in all Germany,
  And why? because thou hadst existed only
  For the emperor. To the emperor alone
  Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered round him
  At Regensburg in the Diet—and he dropped thee!
  He let thee fall! he let thee fall a victim
  To the Bavarian, to that insolent!
  Deposed, stripped bare of all thy dignity
  And power, amid the taunting of thy foe
  Thou wert let drop into obscurity.
  Say not, the restoration of thy honor
  Has made atonement for that first injustice.
  No honest good-will was it that replaced thee;
  The law of hard necessity replaced thee,
  Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  Not to their good wishes, that is certain,
  Nor yet to his affection I'm indebted
  For this high office; and if I abuse it,
  I shall therein abuse no confidence.

  COUNTESS.
  Affection! confidence!—they needed thee.
  Necessity, impetuous remonstrant!
  Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy,
  Is served, who'll have the thing and not the symbol,
  Ever seeks out the greatest and the best,
  And at the rudder places him, e'en though
  She had been forced to take him from the rabble—
  She, this necessity, it was that placed thee
  In this high office; it was she that gave thee
  Thy letters-patent of inauguration.
  For, to the uttermost moment that they can,
  This race still help themselves at cheapest rate
  With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach
  Of extreme peril, when a hollow image
  Is found a hollow image and no more,
  Then falls the power into the mighty hands
  Of nature, of the spirit-giant born,
  Who listens only to himself, knows nothing
  Of stipulations, duties, reverences,
  And, like the emancipated force of fire,
  Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them,
  Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy.

  WALLENSTEIN.
  'Tis true! they saw me always as I am—
  Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain.
  I never held it worth my pains to hide
  The bold all-grasping habit of my soul.

  COUNTESS.
  Nay rather—thou hast ever shown thyself
  A formidable man, without restraint;
  Hast exercised the full prerogatives
  Of thy impetuous nature, which had been
  Once granted to thee. Therefore, duke, not thou,
  Who hast still remained consistent with thyself,
  But they are in the wrong, who, fearing thee,
  Intrusted such a power in hands they feared.
  For, by the laws of spirit, in the right
  Is every individual character
  That acts in strict consistence with itself:
  Self-contradiction is the only wrong.
  Wert thou another being, then, when thou
  Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire,
  And sword, and desolation, through the circles
  Of Germany, the universal scourge,
  Didst mock all ordinances of the empire,
  The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst,
  Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy,
  All to extend thy Sultan's domination?
  Then was the time to break thee in, to curb
  Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance.
  But no, the emperor felt no touch of conscience;
  What served him pleased him, and without a murmur
  He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds.
  What at that time was right, because thou didst it
  For him, to-day is all at once become
  Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed
  Against him. O most flimsy superstition!

  WALLENSTEIN (rising).
  I never saw it in this light before,
  'Tis even so. The emperor perpetrated
  Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly.
  And even this prince's mantle, which I wear,
  I owe to what were services to him,
  But most high misdemeanors 'gainst the empire.

  COUNTESS.
  Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, Friedland!)
  The point can be no more of right and duty,
  Only of power and the opportunity.
  That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder
  Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing
  Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat,
  Seize with firm hand the reins ere thy opponent
  Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest
  Of the now empty seat. The moment comes;
  It is already here, when thou must write
  The absolute total of thy life's vast sum.
  The constellations stand victorious o'er thee,
  The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions,
  And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses
  Hast thou thy life-long measured to no purpose?
  The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings?

     [Pointing to the different objects in the room.

  The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven,
  Hast pictured on these walls and all around thee.
  In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed
  These seven presiding lords of destiny—
  For toys? Is all this preparation nothing?
  Is there no marrow in this hollow art,
  That even to thyself it doth avail
  Nothing, and has no influence over thee
  In the great moment of decision?

  WALLENSTEIN (during this last speech walks up and down with inward
     struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then
     interrupting the COUNTESS).
  Send Wrangel to me—I will instantly
  Despatch three couriers——

  ILLO (hurrying out).
                God in heaven be praised!

  WALLENSTEIN.
  It is his evil genius and mine.
  Our evil genius! It chastises him
  Through me, the instrument of his ambition;
  And I expect no less, than that revenge
  E'en now is whetting for my breast the poinard.
  Who sows the serpent's teeth let him not hope
  To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime
  Has, in the moment of its perpetration,
  Its own avenging angel—dark misgiving,
  An ominous sinking at the inmost heart.
  He can no longer trust me. Then no longer
  Can I retreat—so come that which must come.
  Still destiny preserves its due relations,
  The heart within us is its absolute
  Vicegerent.         [To TERZKY.
         Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel
  To my state cabinet. Myself will speak to
  The couriers. And despatch immediately
  A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.

     [To the COUNTESS, who cannot conceal her triumph.

  No exultation! woman, triumph not!
  For jealous are the powers of destiny,
  Joy premature, and shouts ere victory,
  Encroach upon their rights and privileges.
  We sow the seed, and they the growth determine.

     [While he is making his exit the curtain drops.