The Duke himself, my scruples recommenced.
For truly, not like an attainted man,

Into this town did Friedland make his entrance;
His wonted majesty beam'd from his brow,
And calm, as in the days when all was right,
Did he receive from me the accounts of office.
'Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension:
But sparing and with dignity the Duke
Weigh'd every syllable of approbation,
As masters praise a servant who has done
His duty, and no more.

BUTLER.

"Tis all precisely

As I related in my letter. Friedland

Has sold the army to the enemy,

And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra.
On this report the regiments all forsook him,
The five excepted that belong to Tertsky,

And which have follow'd him, as thou hast seen.
The sentence of attainder is pass'd on him,
And every loyal subject is required

To give him in to justice, dead or living.

GORDON.

A traitor to the Emperor-Such a noble!

Of such high talents! What is human greatness?
I often said, this can't end happily.

His might, his greatness, and this obscure power
Are but a cover'd pit-fall. The human being
May not be trusted to self-government.

The clear and written law, the deep-trod foot-marks
Of ancient custom, are all necessary

To keep him in the road of faith and duty.
The authority intrusted to this man

Was unexampled and unnatural.

It placed him on a level with his Emperor,

Till the proud soul unlearn'd submission. Woe is me;

I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem

Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General,

We in our lucky mediocrity

Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate,
What dangerous wishes such a height may breed
In the heart of such a man.

Say, then, will you fulfil the attainder on him?
GORDON (pauses reflecting-then as in deep dejection).
If it be so-if all be as you say-

If he 've betray'd the Emperor, his master,
The strong-holds of the country to the enemy-
Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver
Yea, truly-there is no redemption for him!
Yet it is hard, that me the lot should destine
To be the instrument of his perdition;
For we were pages at the court of Bergau
At the same period; but I was the senior.

I have heard so

BUTLER.

GORDON.

"Tis full thirty years since then.
A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year
Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends:
Yet even then he had a daring soul:

His frame of mind was serious and severe
Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects.
He walk'd amidst us of a silent spirit,
Communing with himself; yet I have known him
Transported on a sudden into utterance
Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendor
His soul reveal'd itself, and he spake so
That we look'd round perplex'd upon each other,
Not knowing whether it were craziness,
Or whether it were a god that spoke in him.

I will relieve you. Tell me,

There are some Protestants among you still?
[The BURGOMASTER hesitates.
Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd
Within these walls-Confess now-you yourself-
[Fixes his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER alarmed.
Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits.
Could my will have determined it, they had
Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me—
Mass-book or Bible-'tis all one to me.
Of that the world has had sufficient proof.
I built a church for the reform'd in Glogau
At my own instance. Harkye, Burgomaster!
What is your name?

BURGOMASTER.

Pachhalbel, may it please you.

Two additional batteries I caused to be run up. They were needed. The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, General!

Harkye!

WALLENSTEIN.

SCENE IV.

But let it go no further, what I now

Disclose to you in confidence.

To these enter COUNT TERTSKY. TERTSKY.

with a certain solemnity.

The times

Draw near to their fulfilment, Burgomaster! The high will fall, the low will be exalted. Harkye! But keep it to yourself! The end

Approaches of the Spanish double monarchyA new arrangement is at hand. You saw

WALLENSTEIN.

And what may they be?

TERTSKY.

There has been an engagement At Neustadt; the Swedes gain'd the victory.

WALLENSTEIN.

The Emperor has soldiers, no commander,
For this King Ferdinand of Hungary
Is but a tyro. Galas? He's no luck,

And was of old the ruiner of armies.
And then this viper, this Octavio,
Is excellent at stabbing in the back,

But ne'er meets Friedland in the open field.

TERTSKY.

Trust me, my friends, it cannot but succeed;
Fortune, we know, can ne'er forsake the Duke!
And only under Wallenstein can Austria
Be conqueror.

ILLO.

The Duke will soon assemble

A mighty army: all comes crowding, streaming
To banners, dedicate by destiny,

To fame, and prosperous fortune. I behold
Old times come back again! he will become
Once more the mighty Lord which he has been.
How will the fools, who've now deserted him,
Look then? I can't but laugh to think of them,
For lands will he present to all his friends,
And like a King and Emperor reward
True services; but we've the nearest claims.

[To GORDON.
You will not be forgotten, Governor!
He'll take you from this nest, and bid you shine
In higher station: your fidelity
Well merits it.

What! we are masters here; no soul shall dare
Avow himself imperial where we've the rule.
Gordon! good night, and for the last time, take
A fair leave of the place. Send out patrols
To make secure, the watch-word may be alter'd
At the stroke of ten; deliver in the keys
To the Duke himself, and then you've quit for ever
Your wardship of the gates, for on to-morrow
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel.
TERTSKY (as he is going, to BUTLER).
You come, though, to the castle?

The sun has set;
A fateful evening doth descend upon us,
And brings on their long night! Their evil stars
Deliver them unarm'd into our hands,

And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes
The dagger at their heart shall rouse them. Well,
The Duke was ever a great calculator;
His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board,
To move and station, as his game required.
Other men's honor, dignity, good name,

Did he shift like pawns, and made no conscience of it:
Still calculating, calculating still;
And yet at last his calculation proves
Erroneous; the whole game is lost; and lo!
His own life will be found among the forfeits.

GORDON.

O think not of his errors now; remember
His greatness, his munificence, think on all
The lovely features of his character,
On all the noble exploits of his life,
And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen
Arrest the lifted sword.

BUTLER.

It is too late.

I suffer not myself to feel compassion,
Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now:
[Grasping GORDON'S hand.
Gordon! 'tis not my hatred (I pretend not
To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him),
Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me
To be his murderer. "Tis his evil fate.
Hostile concurrences of many events
Control and subjugate me to the office.
In vain the human being meditates

Free action. He is but the wire-work'd* puppet
Of the blind Power, which out of his own choice
Creates for him a dread necessity.

What too would it avail him, if there were
A something pleading for him in my heart-
Still I must kill him.

GORDON.

If your heart speak to you, Follow its impulse. "Tis the voice of God. Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous Bedew'd with blood-his blood? Believe it not!

• We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a sentiment in the mouth of any character. T.