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

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СКАЧАТЬ have I sought out this part for thee.

      Thou wilt this time be of most service to me

      By thy inertness. The mean time, if fortune

      Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know

      What is to do.

      Enter MAX PICCOLOMINI

                       Now go, Octavio.

      This night must thou be off, take my own horses

      Him here I keep with me—make short farewell—

      Trust me, I think, we all shall meet again

      In joy and thriving fortunes.

      OCTAVIO (to his son).

                         I shall see you

      Yet ere I go.

      SCENE II

      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?

      WALLENST.

      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 delay'd 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 ta'en thee by surprise. Answer me not.

      I grant thee time to recollect thyself.

      [He rises, retires at 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 follow'd

      With most implicit unconditional faith,

      Sure of the right path if I follow'd thee.

      Today, for the first time, dost thou refer

      Me to myself, and forcest me to make

      Election between thee and my own heart.

      WALLENST.

      Soft cradled thee thy Fortune till today;

      Thy duties thou couldst 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 fix'd star of the pole

      Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean?

      O! what a rent thou makest in my heart!

      The ingrain'd instinct of old reverence,

      The holy habit of obediency,

      Must I pluck live 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,

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