Wallenstein/The Death of Wallenstein/A3S08
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SCENE VIII.
Gordon and Butler.
GORDON. (looking after them.)
Unhappy man! How free from all foreboding!
They rush into the outspread net of murder,
In the blind drunkenness of victory;
I have no pity for their fate. This Illo,
This overflowing and fool-hardy villain
That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's blood.
Unhappy man! How free from all foreboding!
They rush into the outspread net of murder,
In the blind drunkenness of victory;
I have no pity for their fate. This Illo,
This overflowing and fool-hardy villain
That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's blood.
BUTLER.
Do as he order'd you. Send round patroles,
Take measures for the citadel's security;
When they are within I close the castle gate
That nothing may transpire.
Do as he order'd you. Send round patroles,
Take measures for the citadel's security;
When they are within I close the castle gate
That nothing may transpire.
GORDON. (with earnest anxiety.)
Oh haste not so!
Nay, stop; first tell me———
Oh haste not so!
Nay, stop; first tell me———
BUTLER.
You have heard already,
To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night
Alone is ours. They make good expeditions
But we will make still
greater. Fare you well.
You have heard already,
To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night
Alone is ours. They make good expeditions
But we will make still
greater. Fare you well.
GORDON.
Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler,
I pray you, promise me!
Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler,
I pray you, promise me!
BUTLER.
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 requir'd.
Other men's honour, 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.
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 requir'd.
Other men's honour, 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 angels' arm, unseen
Arrest the lifted sword.
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 angels' 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[1] 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.
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[1] 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!
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!
BUTLER.
You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen,
That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten
With such forc'd marches hitherward? Fain would I
Have given him to the Emperor's mercy.—Gordon!
I do not wish his blood—But I must ransom
The honour of my word—it lies in pledge—
And he must die, or———
(passionately grasping Gordon's hand.)
Listen then, and know!
I am dishonour'd if the Duke escape us.
You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen,
That the Swedes gain'd the victory, and hasten
With such forc'd marches hitherward? Fain would I
Have given him to the Emperor's mercy.—Gordon!
I do not wish his blood—But I must ransom
The honour of my word—it lies in pledge—
And he must die, or———
(passionately grasping Gordon's hand.)
Listen then, and know!
I am dishonour'd if the Duke escape us.
GORDON.
O! to save such a man———
O! to save such a man———
BUTLER.
What!
What!
GORDON.
It is worth
A sacrifice.—Come, friend! be noble-minded!
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions,
Forms our true honour.
It is worth
A sacrifice.—Come, friend! be noble-minded!
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions,
Forms our true honour.
BUTLER. (with a cold and haughty air.)
He is a great Lord,
This Duke—and I am but of mean importance.
This is what you would say? Wherein concerns it
The world at large, you mean to hint to me,
Whether the man of low extraction keeps
Or blemishes his honour—
So that the man of princely rank be sav'd.
We all do stamp our value on ourselves.
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us.
There does not live on earth the man so station'd,
That I despise myself compar'd with him.
Man is made great or little by his own will,
Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies.
He is a great Lord,
This Duke—and I am but of mean importance.
This is what you would say? Wherein concerns it
The world at large, you mean to hint to me,
Whether the man of low extraction keeps
Or blemishes his honour—
So that the man of princely rank be sav'd.
We all do stamp our value on ourselves.
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us.
There does not live on earth the man so station'd,
That I despise myself compar'd with him.
Man is made great or little by his own will,
Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies.
GORDON.
I am endeavouring to move a rock.
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings.
I cannot hinder you, but may some God
Rescue him from you!
[Exit Gordon.
I am endeavouring to move a rock.
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings.
I cannot hinder you, but may some God
Rescue him from you!
[Exit Gordon.
- ↑ We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a sentiment in the mouth of any character. T.