The Piccolomini. Friedrich von Schiller

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         My noble friend,

         This is no more than a remembrancing

         That you are now in camp, and among warriors;

         The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom.

         Could he act daringly, unless he dared

         Talk even so? One runs into the other.

         The boldness of this worthy officer,

         Which now is but mistaken in its mark,

         Preserved, when naught but boldness could preserve it,

         To the emperor, his capital city, Prague,

         In a most formidable mutiny

         Of the whole garrison. [Military music at a distance.

                     Hah! here they come!

         The sentries are saluting them: this signal

         Announces the arrival of the duchess.

         Then my son Max., too, has returned. 'Twas he

         Fetched and attended them from Caernthen hither.

         Shall we not go in company to greet them?

         Well, let us go – Ho! Colonel Butler, come.

         You'll not forget that yet ere noon we meet

         The noble envoy at the general's palace.

            [Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

         What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!

         What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!

         And were this spirit universal —

                           Hm!

         You're now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

         Where must we seek, then, for a second host

         To have the custody of this? That Illo

         Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then

         This Butler, too – he cannot even conceal

         The passionate workings of his ill intentions.

         Quickness of temper – irritated pride;

         'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.

         I know a spell that will soon dispossess

         The evil spirit in him.

                     Friend, friend!

         O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered

         Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There

         We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,

         Eyes dazzled by the splendor of the throne.

         We had not seen the war-chief, the commander,

         The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here,

         'Tis quite another thing.

         Here is no emperor more – the duke is emperor.

         Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend!

         This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp

         Strikes my hopes prostrate.

                       Now you see yourself

         Of what a perilous kind the office is,

         Which you deliver to me from the court.

         The least suspicion of the general

         Costs me my freedom and my life, and would

         But hasten his most desperate enterprise.

         Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted

         This madman with the sword, and placed such power

         In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,

         Flatly refuse to obey the imperial orders.

         Friend, he can do it, and what he can, he will.

         And then the impunity of his defiance —

         Oh! what a proclamation of our weakness!

         D'ye think, too, he has brought his wife and daughter

         Without a purpose hither? Here in camp!

         And at the very point of time in which

         We're arming for the war? That he has taken

         These, the last pledges of his loyalty,

         Away from out the emperor's dominions —

         This is no doubtful token of the nearness

         Of some eruption.

                  How shall we hold footing

         Beneath this tempest, which collects itself

         And threats us from all quarters? The enemy

         Of the empire on our borders, now already

         The master of the Danube, and still farther,

         And farther still, extending every hour!

         In our interior the alarum-bells

         Of insurrection – peasantry in arms —

         All orders discontented – and the army,

         Just in the moment of our expectation

         Of aidance from it – lo! this very army

         Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline,

         Loosened, and rent asunder from the state

         And from their sovereign, the blind instrument

         Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon

         Of fearful power, which at his will he wields.

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