Max, hear me.

MAX.

O! do it not, I pray thee, do it not! 
There is a pure and noble soul within thee
Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing. 
Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only
Which hath polluted thee; and innocence—­
It will not let itself be driven away
From that world-awing aspect.  Thou wilt not,
Thou canst not, end in this.  It would reduce
All human creatures to disloyalty
Against the nobleness of their own nature. 
’Twill justify the vulgar misbelief
Which holdeth nothing noble in free will
And trusts itself to impotence alone
Made powerful only in an unknown power.

WALLENST.

The world will judge me sternly, I expect it. 
Already have I said to my own self
All thou canst say to me.  Who but avoids
The extreme, can he by going round avoid it? 
But here there is no choice.  Yes—­I must use
Or suffer violence—­so stands the case;
There remains nothing possible but that.

MAX.

O that is never possible for thee! 
’Tis the last desperate resource of those
Cheap souls to whom their honor, their good name
Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep,
Which, having staked and lost, they stake themselves
In the mad rage of gaming.  Thou art rich
And glorious; with an unpolluted heart
Thou canst make conquest of whate’er seems highest! 
But he, who once hath acted infamy,
Does nothing more in this world.

WALLENSTEIN (grasps his hand).

Calmly, Max! 
Much that is great and excellent will we
Perform together yet.  And if we only
Stand on the height with dignity, ’tis soon
Forgotten, Max, by what road we ascended. 
Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now
That yet was deeply sullied in the winning. 
To the evil spirit doth the earth belong,
Not to the good.  All that the powers divine
Send from above are universal blessings,
Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes,
But never yet was man enrich’d by them
In their eternal realm no property
Is to be struggled for—­all there is general
The jewel, the all-valued gold we win
From the deceiving Powers, depraved in nature,
That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light. 
Not without sacrifices are they render’d
Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth
That e’er retired unsullied from their service.

MAX.

Whate’er is human, to the human being
Do I allow—­and to the vehement
And striving spirit readily I pardon
The excess of action; but to thee, my General,
Above all others make I large concession. 
For thou must move a world, and be the master—­
He kills thee who condemns thee to inaction. 
So be it then! maintain thee in thy post
By violence.  Resist the Emperor,
And, if it must be, force with force repel: 
I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it. 
But not—­not to the traitor—­yes!—­the word
Is spoken out—­
Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon. 
That is no mere excess! that is no error
Of human nature—­that is wholly different;
O that is black, black as the pit of hell!