The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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СКАЧАТЬ the heart, to wish to see him guilty,

       Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall.

       Octavio, ‘twill not please me.

      Octavio. God in Heaven!

      Max. O, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature. 25

       How comes suspicion here — in the free soul?

       Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all

       Lied to me, all what I e’er loved or honoured.

       No! No! Not all! She — she yet lives for me,

       And she is true, and open as the Heavens! 30

       Deceit is every where, hypocrisy,

       Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:

       The single holy spot is now our love,

       The only unprofaned in human nature.

      Octavio. Max! — we will go together. ‘Twill be better. 35

      Max. What? ere I’ve taken a last parting leave,

       The very last — no never!

      Octavio. Spare thyself

       The pang of necessary separation.

       Come with me! Come, my son! [Attempts to take him with him.

      Max. No! as sure as God lives, no! 40

      Octavio. Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

      Max. Command me what is human. I stay here.

      Octavio. Max! in the Emperor’s name I bid thee come.

      Max. No Emperor has power to prescribe

       Laws to the heart; and would’st thou wish to rob me 45

       Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,

       Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed

       Be done with cruelty? The unalterable

       Shall I perform ignobly — steal away,

       With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! 50

       She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,

       Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,

       And weep tears o’er me. Oh! the human race

       Have steely souls — but she is as an angel.

       From the black deadly madness of despair 55

       Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words

       Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

      Octavio. Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.

       O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

      Max. Squander not thou thy words in vain. 60

       The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

      Octavio. Max! Max! if that most damnéd thing could be,

       If thou — my son — my own blood — (dare I think it?)

       Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,

       Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, 65

       Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,

       And in unnatural combat shall the steel

       Of the son trickle with the father’s blood.

      Max. O hadst thou always better thought of men,

       Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion! 70

       Unholy miserable doubt! To him

       Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm,

       Who has no faith.

      Octavio. And if I trust thy heart,

       Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

      Max. The heart’s voice thou hast not o’erpower’d — as little 75

       Will Wallenstein be able to o’erpower it.

      Octavio. O, Max! I see thee never more again!

      Max. Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

      Octavio. I go to Frauenberg — the Pappenheimers

       I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Toskana 80

       And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.

       They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,

       And will far rather fall in gallant contest

       Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour.

      Max. Rely on this, I either leave my life 85

       In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.

      Octavio. Farewell, my son!

      Max. Farewell!

      Octavio. How? not one look

       Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting?

       It is a bloody war, to which we are going,

       And the event uncertain and in darkness. 90

       So used we not to part — it was not so!

       Is it then true? I have a son no longer?

      [MAX falls into his arms, they hold each [other] for

       a long time in a speechless embrace, then go

       away at different sides.

      The Curtain drops.

THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN

       Table of Contents

       PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR TO THE FIRST EDITION

       DRAMATIS PERSONAE

       ACT I

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