The Death of Wallenstein. Friedrich von Schiller

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        The man who knows our secrets, who knows every

        Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon,

        Through whose hands all and everything has passed —

        Nay, not Sesina? Say, no! I entreat thee.

        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.

        Has he heard it?

        He has heard it.

                 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.

        They have documents against us, and in hands,

        Which show beyond all power of contradiction —

        Of my handwriting – no iota. Thee

        I punish or thy lies.

                    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?

        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?

        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.

                          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.

        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 —

                    '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?

                   He's arrived! Know'st

        What his commission is —

                     To thee alone

        Will he intrust the purpose of his coming.

        A cursed, cursed accident! Yes, yes,

        Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent.

        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 —

        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 —

                       Ruin thee,

        That it will do! Not thy fidelity,

        Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion —

        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!

        Now – now – ere they can ward and parry it!

        I have the generals' word – a written promise!

        Max. Piccolomini stands not here – how's that?

        It was – he fancied —

                   Mere self-willedness.

        There needed no such thing 'twixt him and you.

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