The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Wallenstein._ The stars lie not; but we have here a work Wrought counter to the stars and destiny.
The science is still honest: this false heart 10 Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven.
On a divine law divination rests; Where nature deviates from that law, and stumbles Out of her limits, there all science errs.
True, I did not suspect! Were it superst.i.tion 15 Never by such suspicion t' have affronted The human form, O may that time ne'er come In which I shame me of the infirmity.
The wildest savage drinks not with the victim Into whose breast he means to plunge the sword. 20 This, this, Octavio, was no hero's deed: 'Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine; A bad heart triumphed o'er an honest one.
No s.h.i.+eld received the a.s.sa.s.sin stroke; thou plungest Thy weapon on an unprotected breast-- 25 Against such weapons I am but a child.
SCENE X
_To these enter BUTLER._
_Tertsky (meeting him)._ O look there! Butler! Here we've still a friend!
_Wallenstein (meets him with outspread arms, and embraces him with warmth)._ Come to my heart, old comrade! Not the sun Looks out upon us more revivingly In the earliest month of spring, Than a friend's countenance in such an hour. 5
_Butler._ My General: I come--
_Wallenstein (leaning on Butler's shoulders)._ Know'st thou already?
That old man has betrayed me to the Emperor.
What say'st thou? Thirty years have we together Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hards.h.i.+p.
We have slept in one camp-bed, drunk from one gla.s.s, 10 One morsel shared! I leaned myself on him, As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder.
And now in the very moment, when, all love, All confidence, my bosom beat to his, He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife 15 Slowly into my heart. [_He hides his face on BUTLER'S breast._
_Butler._ Forget the false one.
What is your present purpose?
_Wallenstein._ Well remembered!
Courage my soul! I am still rich in friends, Still loved by Destiny; for in the moment, That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite, 20 It sends and proves to me one faithful heart.
Of the hypocrite no more! Think not, his loss Was that which struck the pang: O no! his treason Is that which strikes this pang! No more of him!
Dear to my heart, and honoured were they both, 25 And the young man--yes--he did truly love me, He--he--has not deceived me. But enough, Enough of this--Swift counsel now beseems us.
The Courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from Prague I expect him every moment: and whatever 30 He may bring with him, we must take good care To keep it from the mutineers. Quick, then!
Dispatch some messenger you can rely on To meet him, and conduct him to me. [_ILLO is going._
_Butler (detaining him)._ My General, whom expect you then?
_Wallenstein._ The Courier 35 Who brings me word of the event at Prague.
_Butler (hesitating)._ Hem!
_Wallenstein._ And what now?
_Butler._ You do not know it?
_Wallenstein._ Well?
_Butler._ From what that larum in the camp arose?
_Wallenstein._ From what?
_Butler._ That Courier.
_Wallenstein._ Well?
_Butler._ Is already here.
_Tertsky and Illo (at the same time)._ Already here?
_Wallenstein._ My Courier?
_Butler._ For some hours. 40
_Wallenstein._ And I not know it?
_Butler._ The centinels detain him In custody.
_Illo._ d.a.m.nation!
_Butler._ And his letter Was broken open, and is circulated Through the whole camp.
_Wallenstein._ You know what it contains?
_Butler._ Question me not.
_Tertsky._ Illo! alas for us. 45
_Wallenstein._ Hide nothing from me--I can hear the worst.
Prague then is lost. It is. Confess it freely.
_Butler._ Yes! Prague is lost. And all the several regiments At Budweiss, Tabor, Brannau, Konigingratz, At Brun and Znaym, have forsaken you, 50 And ta'en the oaths of fealty anew To the Emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Tertsky, And Illo have been sentenced.
[_TERTSKY and ILLO express alarm and fury. WALLENSTEIN remains firm and collected._
_Wallenstein._ 'Tis decided!
'Tis well! I have received a sudden cure From all the pangs of doubt: with steady stream 55 Once more my life-blood flows! My soul's secure!
In the night only Friedland's stars can beam.
Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears I drew the sword--'twas with an inward strife, While yet the choice was mine. The murderous knife 60 Is lifted for my heart! Doubt disappears!
I fight now for my head and for my life.
[_Exit WALLENSTEIN; the others follow him._
LINENOTES:
[11] _him_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[12] _thy_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[21] _faithful_ 1800.
