the
meantime 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! Oh, 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're doing. It is not well done
To choose a man despairing for your leader;
You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,
I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!
For your own ruin you have chosen me
Who goes with me must be prepared to perish.

[He turns to the background; there ensues a sudden and violent
movement among the CUIRASSIERS; they surround him, and carry him
off in wild tumult. WALLENSTEIN remains immovable. THERLA sinks
into her mother's arms. The curtain falls. The music becomes
loud and overpowering, and passes into a complete war-march--the
orchestra joins it--and continues during the interval between the
second and third acts.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The BURGOMASTER's house at Egra.

BUTLER (just arrived).
Here then he is by his destiny conducted.
Here, Friedland! and no further! From Bohemia
Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile,
And here upon the borders of Bohemia
Must sink.
Thou hast forsworn the ancient colors,
Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes.
Profaner of the altar and the hearth,
Against thy emperor and fellow-citizens
Thou meanest to wage the war. Friedland, beware--
The evil spirit of revenge impels thee--
Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!

SCENE II.

BUTLER and GORDON.

GORDON.
Is it you?
How my heart sinks! The duke a fugitive traitor!
His princely head attainted! Oh, my God!
Tell me, general, I implore thee, tell me
In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen.

BUTLER.
You have received the letter which I sent you
By a post-courier?

GORDON.
Yes: and in obedience to it
Opened the stronghold to him without scruple,
For an imperial letter orders me
To follow your commands implicitly.
But yet forgive me! when even now I saw
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