Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be
The guardian of his life, its shield, its watch-

man.

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--

Illo.

[Casting suspicious looks on Illo and Butler. Go---seek for traitors In Galas', 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'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 back-ground, there ensues a sudden and violent movement among the Cuirassiers; they surround him, and carry him off in wild tumult. Wallenstein re

mains immoveable. Thekla sinks into her

The

mother's arms. The curtain falls.
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
Act.)

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The Burgomaster's House at Egra. Butler.

But. Here then he is, by his destiny conducted. Here, Friedland! and no farther! From Bohemia Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile, And here upon the borders of Bohemia

Must sink.

Thou hast forsworn the ancient colours, Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes. Profaner of the altar and the hearth,

Against thy Emperor and fellow-citizens

Thou mean'st to wage the war.

ware

Friedland, be

The evil spirit of revenge impels thee--

Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not!

SCENE II.

Butler and Gordon.

Gor. Is it you?

How

my heart sinks! The Duke a fugitive traitor!

His princely head attainted! O my God!

But. You have received the letter which I sent

you

By a post-courier ?—

Gor.

Yes! and in obedience to it

Opened the strong hold 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 beamed from his brow,
And calm, as in the days when all was right,
Did he receive from me the accounts of office;
Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension:
But sparing and with dignity the Duke
Weighed every syllable of approbation,
As masters praise a servant who has done
His duty, and no more.

But.

As I related in my letter.

"Tis all precisely

Friedland

Has sold the army to the enemy,

And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra.

On this report the regiments all forsook him,
The five excepted that belong to Tertsky,

And which have followed him as thou hast seen.
The sentence of attainder is passed on him,

And every loyal subject is required

To give him in to justice, dead or living.

Gor. A traitor to the Emperor---Such a noble ! Of such high talents! What is human greatness! I often said, this can't end happily.

His might, his greatness, and this obscure power. Are but a covered pit-fall. The human being May not be trusted to self-government.

The clear and written law, the deep trod footmarks

Of ancient custom, are all necessary

To keep him in the road of faith and duty.
The authority entrusted to this man
Was unexampled and unnatural;

It placed him on a level with his Emperor,
Till the proud soul unlearned submission. Woe is

me;

I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem
Might none stand firm. Alas! dear General,
We in our lucky mediocrity

Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate,

What dangerous wishes such a height may breed In the heart of such a man.

But.

Spare your laments Till he need sympathy; for at this present He is still mighty, and still formidable.

The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches, And quickly will the junction be accomplished. This must not be! The Duke must never leave This strong hold on free footing; for I have Pledged life and honour here to hold him prisoner, And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate.

Gor. O that I had not lived to see this day! From his hand I received this dignity, He did himself entrust this strong hold to me,