ILLO. O come! Let not their ardour cool. The soldiery Let us charge them, And finish here in Pilsen the revolt. WALLENSTEIN. What? shall this town become a field of slaughter, And brother-killing Discord, fire-eyed, Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage? To deaf remorseless Rage, that hears no leader? So let it burst then! (turns to Max.) Wilt thou attempt a Thou art free to go. Well, how is it with thee? heat with me. Away! Oppose thyself to me, Front against front, and lead them to the battle; Thou'rt skilled in war, thou hast learned somewhat under me, I need not be ashamed of my opponent, And never hadst thou fairer opportunity COUNTESS. Is it then, Can it have come to this?--What! Cousin, Cousin ! Have you the heart? MAX. The regiments that are trusted to my care I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen (Two reports of cannon. Illo and Tertsky hurry to the window.) Expose thyself to their blind frenzy ? DUCHESS AND COUNTESS. No! For God's sake, No! ILLO. Not yet, my General! O, hold him! hold him! WALLENSTEIN. Leave me MAX. Do it not; Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them Into a frenzy-fit-allow them time— WALLENSTEIN. Away! too long already have I loitered. Are they not my troops? Am I not their General, And their long-feared commander! Let me see, That countenance, which was their sun in battle! To these rebellious forces, and at once Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current [Exit Wallenstein; Illo, Tertsky, and Butler follow. SCENE IX. COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX. and THEKLA. COUNTESS. (to the Duchess.) Let them but see him—there is hope still, sister. Hope! I have none! MAX. (who during the last scene has been standing at a distance in a visible struggle of feelings, advances.) This can I not endure. Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love! On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro- COUNTESS. What! you know not? Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor, A frightful traitor to us - he has plotted Against our General's life, has plunged us all In misery-and you're his son! 'Tis your's To make the amends-Make you the son's fidelity Outweigh the father's treason, that the name Of Piccolomini be not a proverb Of infamy, a common form of cursing To the posterity of Wallenstein. MAX. Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow ? It speaks no longer in my heart. We all But utter what our passionate wishes dictate |