WALLENSTEIN, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
MAX. (advances to him).
My general!
WALLENSTEIN.
That I am no longer, if
Thou stylest 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 favor.
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 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 taken thee by surprise. Answer me not:
I grant thee time to recollect thyself.
[He rises, retires to 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 conldst exercise in sport,
Indulge all lovely instincts, act forever
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 life asunder from thy name?
Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me-
It always was as a god looking upon me!
Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed;
The senses still are in thy bonds, although
Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself.
WALLENSTEIN.
Max., hear me.
MAX.
Oh, 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,
