ANSPESS.

That shall he not, while we can hinder it! 
No one, but thou, who hast conducted it
With fame, shall end this war, this frightful war. 
Thou leddest us out to the bloody field
Of death; thou and no other shalt conduct us home,
Rejoicing, to the lovely plains of peace—­
Shalt share with us the fruits of the long toil—­

WALLENST.

What!  Think you then at length in late old age
To enjoy the fruits of toil?  Believe it not. 
Never, no never, will you see the end
Of the contest! you and me, and all of us,
This war will swallow up!  War, war, not peace,
Is Austria’s wish; and therefore, because I
Endeavor’d after peace, therefore I fall,
For what cares Austria how long the war
Wears out the armies and lays waste the world! 
She will but wax and grow amid the ruin
And still win new domains.

[The Cuirassiers express agitation by their gestures.]

Ye’re moved—­I see
A noble rage flash from your eyes, ye warriors! 
Oh that my spirit might possess you now
Daring as once it led you to the battle! 
Ye would stand by me with your veteran arms,
Protect me in my rights; and this is noble! 
But think not that you can accomplish it,
Your scanty number! to no purpose will you
Have sacrificed you for your General.

[Confidentially.]

No! let us tread securely, seek for friends;
The Swedes have proffer’d us assistance, let us
Wear for a while the appearance of good will,
And use them for your profit, till we both
Carry the fate of Europe in our hands,
And from our camp to the glad jubilant world
Lead Peace forth with the garland on her head!

ANSPESS.

’Tis then but mere appearances which thou
Dost put on with the Swede!  Thou’lt not betray
The Emperor?  Wilt not turn us into Swedes? 
This is the only thing which we desire
To learn from thee.

WALLENSTEIN.

What care I for the Swedes? 
I hate them as I hate the pit of hell,
And under Providence I trust right soon
To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. 
My cares are only for the whole:  I have
A heart—­it bleeds within me for the miseries
And piteous groaning of my fellow Germans. 
Ye are but common men, but yet ye think
With minds not common; ye appear to me
Worthy before all others that I whisper ye
A little word or two in confidence! 
See now! already for full fifteen years,
The war-torch has continued burning, yet
No rest, no pause of conflict.  Swede and German,
Papist and Lutheran! neither will give way
To the other, every hand’s against the other. 
Each one is party and no one a judge. 
Where shall this end?  Where’s he that will unravel
This tangle, ever tangling more and more;
It must be cut asunder;
I feel that I am the man of destiny,
And trust, with your assistance, to accomplish it.