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The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03. Коллектив авторов
Читать онлайн.Название The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03
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Автор произведения Коллектив авторов
Жанр Зарубежная классика
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For jealous are the Powers of Destiny.
Joy premature, and shouts ere victory,
Encroach upon their rights and privileges.
We sow the seed, and they the growth determine.
[While he is making his exit the curtain drops.]
ACT II
SCENE I
Scene, as in the preceding Act
WALLENSTEIN, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI
WALLENSTEIN (coming forward in conversation).
He sends me word from Linz that he lies sick;
But I have sure intelligence that he
Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Gallas.
Secure them both, and send them to me hither.
Remember, thou takest on thee the command
Of those same Spanish regiments,—constantly
Make preparation, and be never ready;
And if they urge thee to draw out against me,
Still answer YES, and stand as thou wert fetter'd;
I know that it is doing thee a service
To keep thee out of action in this business.
Thou lovest to linger on in fair appearances;
Steps of extremity are not thy province;
Therefore 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