Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No-
Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty
Which we all owe our country, and our sovereign,
To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet
Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!
QUESTENBErg,

It is the visible ordinance of heaven.

OCTAVIO.

I know not what it is that so attracts

And links him both to me and to my son.
Comrades and friends we always were-long habit,
Adventurous deeds performed in company.
And all those many and various incidents
Which store a soldier's memory with affections,
Had bound us long and early to each other-
Yet I can name the day, when all at once
His heart rose on me, and his confidence
Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morning
Before the memorable fight at Lützner.
Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out,
To press him to accept another charger.
At distance from the tents, beneath a tree,

I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him,
And had related all my bodings to him,
Long time he stared upon me, like a man
Astounded; thereon fell upon my neck,

And manifested to me an emotion

That far outstripped the worth of that small service. Since then his confidence has followed me

With the same pace that mine has fled from him. QUESTENBERG.

You lead your son into the secret?

OCTAVIO.

No!

QUESTENBERG.

What? and not warn him either what bad hands

His lot has placed him in?

OCTAVIO

I must perforce

Leave him in wardship to his innocence.
His young and open soul-dissimulation
Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance
Alone can keep alive the cheerful air,

The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit,
That make the Duke secure.

QUESTENBERG (anxiously).

My honoured friend! most highly do I deem
Of Colonel Piccolomini-yet-if-

Reflect a little

OCTAVIO.

I must venture it.

Hush!-There he comes!

1

SCENE IV.

MAX. PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI,

QUESTENBERG.

MAX.

Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father! [He embraces his father. As he turns round, he observes Questenberg, and draws

back with a cold and reserved air.

You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.
OCTAVIO.

How Max? Look closer at this visitor

Attention, Max. an old friend merits-Reverence
Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign.
MAX. (drily).

Von Questenberg!-Welcome-if you bring with you
Aught good to our head quarters.

QUESTENBERG (seizing his hand).

Nay, draw not

Your hand away, Count Piccolomini !

Not on mine own account alone I seized it,
And nothing common will I say therewith.

[taking the hands of both.

Octavio-Max. Piccolomini !

O saviour names, and full of happy omen!

Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria,

While two such stars, with blessed influences
Beaming protection, shine above her hosts.

MAX.

Heh!-Noble minister! You miss your part.
You came not here to act a panegyric.

You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold usI must not be beforehand with my comrades. OCTAVIO (to Max.).

He comes from court, where people are not quite So well contented with the duke, as here.

MAX,

What now have they contrived to find out in him? That he alone determines for himself

What he himself alone doth understand?

Well, therein he does right, and will persist in't.
Heaven never meant him for that passive thing
That can be struck and hammered out to suit
Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance
To every tune of every minister.

It goes against his nature-he can't do it.
He is possessed by a commanding spirit,
And his too is the station of command.
And well for us it is so! There exist
Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use
Their intellects intelligently.-Then

Well for the whole, if there be found a man,

Who makes himself what nature destined him,

The pause, the central point to thousand thou

sands

Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column,
Where all may press with joy and confidence.
Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if

Another better suits the court-no other
But such a one as he can serve the army.

QUESTENBERG.

The army? Doubtless!

OCTAVIO (to Questenberg).

Hush! Suppress it friend!

Unless some end were answered by the utterance.

Of him there you'll make nothing.

MAX. (continuing).

In their distress

They call a spirit up, and when he comes,

Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they

dread him

More than the ills for which they called him up.
The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be
Like things of every day. But in the field,
Aye, there the Present Being makes itself felt.
The personal must command, the actual eye
Examine. If to be the chieftain asks

All that is great in nature, let it be