The Death of Wallenstein. Friedrich von Schiller

                   If time yet permits —

        That lies with me, even now, at any hour.

        Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer;

        No longer since Sesina's been a prisoner.

        My lord duke, hear me – we believe that you

        At present do mean honorably by us.

        Since yesterday we're sure of that – and now

        This paper warrants for the troops, there's nothing

        Stands in the way of our full confidence.

        Prague shall not part us. Hear! The chancellor

        Contents himself with Alstadt; to your grace

        He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side.

        But Egra above all must open to us,

        Ere we can think of any junction.

                          You,

        You therefore must I trust, and not you me?

        I will consider of your proposition.

        I must entreat that your consideration

        Occupy not too long a time. Already

        Has this negotiation, my lord duke!

        Crept on into the second year. If nothing

        Is settled this time, will the chancellor

        Consider it as broken off forever?

        Ye press me hard. A measure such as this

        Ought to be thought of.

                     Ay! but think of this too,

        That sudden action only can procure it.

        Success – think first of this, your highness.

        Is't all right?

                 Are you compromised?

                            This Swede

        Went smiling from you. Yes! you're compromised.

        As yet is nothing settled; and (well weighed)

        I feel myself inclined to leave it so.

        How? What is that?

                   Come on me what will come,

        The doing evil to avoid an evil

        Cannot be good!

                 Nay, but bethink you, duke.

        To live upon the mercy of these Swedes!

        Of these proud-hearted Swedes! – I could not bear it.

        Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant?

        Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest?

        How fared it with the brave and royal Bourbon

        Who sold himself unto his country's foes,

        And pierced the bosom of his father-land?

        Curses were his reward, and men's abhorrence

        Avenged the unnatural and revolting deed.

        Is that thy case?

                  True faith, I tell thee,

        Must ever be the dearest friend of man

        His nature prompts him to assert its rights.

        The enmity of sects, the rage of parties,

        Long-cherished envy, jealousy, unite;'

        And all the struggling elements of evil

        Suspend their conflict, and together league

        In one alliance 'gainst their common foe —

        The savage beast that breaks into the fold,

        Where men repose in confidence and peace.

        For vain were man's own prudence to protect him.

        'Tis only in the forehead nature plants

        The watchful eye; the back, without defence,

        Must find its shield in man's fidelity.

        Think not more meanly off thyself than do

        Thy foes, who stretch their hands with joy to greet thee.

        Less scrupulous far was the imperial Charles,

        The powerful head of this illustrious house;

        With open arms he gave the Bourbon welcome;

        For still by policy the world is ruled.

        Who sent for you? There is no business here

        For women.

              I am come to bid you joy.

        Use thy authority, Terzky; bid her go.

        Come I perhaps too early? I hope not.

        Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you:

        You know it is the weapon that destroys me.

        I am routed, if a woman but attack me:

        I cannot traffic in the trade of words

        With that unreasoning sex.

                      I had already

        Given the Bohemians a king.

                       They have one,

        In consequence, no doubt.

                      Ha! what new scruple?

        The duke will not.