The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03. Коллектив авторов

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 that 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,

      And superintend his horses' pedigrees;

      Creates himself a court, gives golden keys,

      And introduces strictest ceremony

      In fine proportions, and nice etiquette;

      Keeps open table with high cheer: in brief,

      Commences 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[25] 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!

      O let not Superstition's nightly goblins

      Subdue thy clear bright spirit! Art thou bid

      To murder?—with abhorr'd, accursed poinard,

      To violate the breasts that nourish'd thee?

      That were against our nature, that might aptly

      Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken,[26]

      Yet not a few, and for a meaner object,

      Have ventured even this, ay, and perform'd 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 СКАЧАТЬ