I fear not that. They have not evidenceTo attaint him legally, and they avoid 50
The avowal of an arbitrary power.
They’ll let the Duke resign without disturbance.
I see how all will end. The King of Hungary
Makes his appearance, and ‘twill of itself
Be understood, that then the Duke retires. 55
There will not want a formal declaration.
The young King will administer the oath
To the whole army; and so all returns
To the old position. On some morrow morning
The Duke departs; and now ‘tis stir and bustle 60
Within his castles. He will hunt, and build,
Superintend his horses’ pedigrees;
Creates himself a court, gives golden keys,
And introduceth strictest ceremony
In fine proportions, and nice etiquette; 65
Keeps open table with high cheer; in brief,
Commenceth mighty King — in miniature.
And while he prudently demeans himself,
And gives himself no actual importance,
He will be let appear whate’er he likes; 70
And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear
A mighty Prince to his last dying hour?
Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others,
A fire-new Noble, whom the war hath raised
To price and currency, a Jonah’s Gourd, 75
An over-night creation of court-favour,
Which with an undistinguishable ease
Makes Baron or makes Prince.
Wallenstein. Take her away.
Let in the young Count Piccolomini.
Countess. Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou 80
Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave,
So ignominiously to be dried up?
Thy life, that arrogated such a height
To end in such a nothing! To be nothing,
When one was always nothing, is an evil 85
That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil,
But to become a nothing, having been ——
Wallenstein (starts up). Shew me a way out of this stifling crowd,
Ye Powers of Aidance! Shew me such a way
As I am capable of going. — I 90
Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler;
I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say
To the good luck that turns her back upon me,
Magnanimously: ‘Go! I need thee not.’
Cease I to work, I am annihilated, 95
Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun,
If so I may avoid the last extreme;
But ere I sink down into nothingness,
Leave off so little, who began so great,
Ere that the world confuses me with those 100
Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles,
This age and after-ages speak my name
With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption
For each accurséd deed!
Countess. What is there here, then,
So against nature? Help me to perceive it! 105
O let not Superstition’s nightly goblins
Subdue thy clear bright spirit! Art thou bid
To murder? — with abhorr’d accurséd poniard,
To violate the breasts that nourished thee?
That were against our nature, that might aptly 110
Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken.
Yet not a few, and for a meaner object,
Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it.
What is there in thy case so black and monstrous?
Thou art accused of treason — whether with 115
Or without justice is not now the question —
Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly
Of the power which thou possessest — Friedland! Duke!
Tell me, where lives that thing so meek and tame,
That doth not all his living faculties 120
Put forth in preservation of his life?
What deed so daring, which necessity
And desperation will not sanctify?
Wallenstein. Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me:
He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed 125
The nearest to his heart. Full many a time
We like familiar friends, both at one table,
Have banquetted together. He and I —
And the young kings themselves held me the bason
Wherewith to wash me — and is’t come to this? 130
Countess. So faithfully preserv’st thou each small favour,
And hast no memory for contumelies?
Must I remind thee, how at Regenspurg
This man repaid thy faithful services?
All ranks and all conditions in the Empire 135
Thou hadst wronged, to make him great, — hadst loaded
