Sustainer of the world, had sav'd us all!
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!
Wallenstein has deceiv'd me-O, most foully!
But thou hast acted not much better.

Max. (rises, and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion) Was't possible? had'st thou the heart,

my father,

Had'st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths,

With cold premeditated purpose? Thou

Had'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty,
Rather than sav'd? Thou risest by his fall.
Octavio, 'twill not please me.

Oct.

God in Heaven!

Max. O, woe is me! sure I have chang'd my nature. How comes suspicion here-in the free soul?

Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all
Lied to me, all what I e'er lov'd or honour'd.
No! No! Not all! She-she yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the Heavens!
Deceit is every where, hypocrisy,

Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:
The single holy spot is our love,

The only unprofan'd in human nature.

Oct. Max!-we will go together. 'Twill be better. Max. What? ere I've taken a last parting leave, The very last-no never!

Spare thyself

Oct.
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!

Oct. (more urgently) Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

Max. Command me what is human. I stay here.
Oct. Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.
Max. No Emperor hath power to prescribe

Laws to the heart; and would'st thou wish to rob me
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!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. O! the human race
Have steely souls—but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words

Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

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

Oct. (trembling, and losing all self-command) Max!
Max! if that most damned 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,
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 ! Unholy miserable doubt! To him

Nothing on earth remains unwrench'd and firm,

Who has no faith.

Oct.

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

Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

Oct. O Max! I see thee never more again!
Max. Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.
Oct. I go to Frauenberg-the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Toskana
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
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.
Oct. Farewell, my son!

Max.

Oct.

Farewell!

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.

So us'd 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.

A TRAGEDY,

IN PIVE ACTS.