And this proposal makes thy regiment to thee. 
Is it thy purpose merely to preserve
In thine own hands this military sceptre,
Which so becomes thee, which the Emperor
Made over to thee by a covenant? 
Is it thy purpose merely to remain
Supreme commander of the Austrian armies?—­
We will stand by thee, General! and guarantee
Thy honest rights against all opposition. 
And should it chance that all the other regiments
Turn from thee, by ourselves will we stand forth
Thy faithful soldiers, and, as is our duty,
Far rather let ourselves be cut to pieces
Than suffer thee to fall.  But if it be
As the Emperor’s letter says, if it be true,
That thou in traitorous wise wilt lead us over
To the enemy, which God in heaven forbid! 
Then we too will forsake thee, and obey
That letter—­

WALLENSTEIN.

Hear me, children!

ANSPESSADE.

Yes, or no! 
There needs no other answer.

WALLENSTEIN.

Yield attention. 
You’re men of sense, examine for yourselves;
Ye think, and do not follow with the herd
And therefore have I always shown you honor
Above all others, suffer’d you to reason;
Have treated you as free men, and my orders
Were but the echoes of your prior suffrage.—­

ANSPESS.

Most fair and noble has thy conduct been
To us, my General!  With thy confidence
Thou hast honor’d us, and shown us grace and favor
Beyond all other regiments; and thou seest
We follow not the common herd.  We will
Standby thee faithfully.  Speak but one word—­
Thy word shall satisfy us, that it is not
A treason which thou meditatest—­that
Thou meanest not to lead the army over
To the enemy, nor e’er betray the country.

WALLENST.

Me, me are they betraying.  The Emperor
Hath sacrificed me to my enemies,
And I must fall, unless my gallant troops
Will rescue me.  See!  I confide in you. 
And be your hearts my stronghold!  At this breast
The aim is taken, at this hoary head. 
This is your Spanish gratitude, this is our
Requital for that murderous fight at Luetzen! 
For this we threw the naked breast against
The halbert, made for this the frozen earth
Our bed, and the hard stone our pillow! never stream
Too rapid for us, nor wood too impervious;
With cheerful spirit we pursued that Mansfeldt
Through all the turns and windings of his flight: 
Yea, our whole life was but one restless march: 
And homeless, as the stirring wind, we travel’d
O’er the war-wasted earth.  And now, even now,
That we have well-nigh finish’d the hard toil,
The unthankful, the curse-laden toil of weapons,
With faithful indefatigable arm
Have roll’d the heavy war-load up the hill,
Behold! this boy of the Emperor’s bears away
The honors of the peace, an easy prize! 
He’ll weave, forsooth, into his flaxen locks
The olive branch, the hard-earn’d ornament
Of this gray head, grown gray beneath the helmet.