re heard from below some
spirited passages out of the Pappenheim March, which seem to
address_ MAX.]

WALLENSTEIN (_to the Cuirassiers_).

Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him
No longer.

[_He turns away, and stands so that_ MAX _cannot pass by him
nor approach the_ PRINCESS.]

MAX.

Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt to live
Without thee! I go forth into a desert,
Leaving my all behind me. O do not turn
Thine eyes away from me! O once more show me
Thy ever dear and honor'd countenance!

[MAX _attempts to take his hand, but is repelled; he turns
to the_ COUNTESS.]

Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me?

[_The_ COUNTESS _turns away from him; he turns to the_
DUCHESS.]

My mother!

DUCHESS.

Go where duty calls you. Haply
The time may come, when you may prove to us
A true friend, a good angel at the throne
Of the Emperor.

MAX.

You give me hope; you would not
Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no!
Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to Heaven!
That offers me a means of ending it.

[_The military music begins again. The stage fills more and
more with armed men_. MAX _sees_ BUTLER _and addresses
him_.]

And you here, Colonel Butler--and will you
Not follow me? Well, then! remain more faithful
To your new lord than you have proved yourself
To the Emperor. Come, Butler! promise me,
Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be
The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman.
He is attainted, and his princely head
Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder.
Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship,
And those whom here I see--

[_Casting suspicious looks on_ ILLO _and_ BUTLER.]

ILLO.

Go--seek for traitors
In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here
Is only one. Away! away! and free us
From his detested sight! Away!

[MAX _attempts once more to approach_ THEKLA. WALLENSTEIN
_prevents him_. MAX _stands irresolute, and in apparent
anguish. In the mean time the stage fills more and more; and
the horns sound from below louder and louder, and each time
after a shorter interval_.]

MAX.

Blow! blow! O were it but the Swedish trumpets,
And all the naked swords, which I see here,
Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?
You come to tear me from this place! Beware,
Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!
Ye may repent it!

[_The stage is entirely filled with armed men_.]

Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down!
Think what ye'r