The Death of Wallenstein - Friedrich von Schiller

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Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, Friedland!)

        The point can be no more of right and duty,

        Only of power and the opportunity.

        That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder

        Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing

        Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat,

        Seize with firm hand the reins ere thy opponent

        Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest

        Of the now empty seat. The moment comes;

        It is already here, when thou must write

        The absolute total of thy life's vast sum.

        The constellations stand victorious o'er thee,

        The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions,

        And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses

        Hast thou thy life-long measured to no purpose?

        The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings?

           [Pointing to the different objects in the room.

        The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven,

        Hast pictured on these walls and all around thee.

        In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed

        These seven presiding lords of destiny —

        For toys? Is all this preparation nothing?

        Is there no marrow in this hollow art,

        That even to thyself it doth avail

        Nothing, and has no influence over thee

        In the great moment of decision?

WALLENSTEIN (during this last speech walks up and down with inward struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupting the COUNTESS)

        Send Wrangel to me – I will instantly

        Despatch three couriers —

ILLO (hurrying out)

                      God in heaven be praised!

WALLENSTEIN

        It is his evil genius and mine.

        Our evil genius! It chastises him

        Through me, the instrument of his ambition;

        And I expect no less, than that revenge

        E'en now is whetting for my breast the poinard.

        Who sows the serpent's teeth let him not hope

        To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime

        Has, in the moment of its perpetration,

        Its own avenging angel – dark misgiving,

        An ominous sinking at the inmost heart.

        He can no longer trust me. Then no longer

        Can I retreat – so come that which must come.

        Still destiny preserves its due relations,

        The heart within us is its absolute

        Vicegerent.         [To TERZKY.

               Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel

        To my state cabinet. Myself will speak to

        The couriers. And despatch immediately

        A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.

      [To the COUNTESS, who cannot conceal her triumph.

        No exultation! woman, triumph not!

        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 went fettered.

        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 meantime, 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?

WALLENSTEIN

        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 delayed 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

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