Max, remain with me. 
Go you not from me, Max!  Hark!  I will tell thee—­
How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou
Wert brought into my tent a tender boy,
Not yet accustom’d to the German winters;
Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colors;
Thou wouldst not let them go.—­
At that time did I take thee in my arms,
And with my mantle did I cover thee;
I was thy nurse, no woman could have been
A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed
To do for thee all little offices,
However strange to me; I tended thee
Till life return’d; and when thine eyes first open’d,
I had thee in my arms.  Since then, when have
Alter’d my feelings toward thee?  Many thousands
Have I made rich, presented them with lands;
Rewarded them with dignities and honors;
Thee have I loved:  my heart, my self, I gave
To thee!  They all were aliens:  THOU went
Our child and inmate.[29] Max!  Thou cans’t not leave me;
It cannot be; I may not, will not think
That Max can leave me.

MAX.

O my God!

WALLENSTEIN.

I have
Held and sustain’d thee from thy tottering childhood;
What holy bond is there of natural love,
What human tie, that does not knit thee to me? 
I love thee, Max!  What did thy father for thee,
Which I too have not done, to the height of duty? 
Go hence, forsake me, serve thy Emperor;
He will reward thee with a pretty chain
Of gold; with his ram’s fleece will he reward thee;
For that the friend, the father of thy youth,
For that the holiest feeling of humanity,
Was nothing worth to thee.

MAX.

O God! how can I
Do otherwise?  Am I not forced to do it? 
My oath—­my duty—­my honor—­

WALLENSTEIN.

How?  Thy duty? 
Duty to whom?  Who art thou?  Max! bethink thee
What duties mayst thou have?  If I am acting
A criminal part toward the Emperor,
It is my crime, not thine.  Dost thou belong
To thine own self?  Art thou thine own commander? 
Stand’st thou, like me, a freeman in the world,
That in thy actions thou shouldst plead free agency? 
On me thou’rt planted, I am thy Emperor;
To obey me, to belong to me, this is
Thy honor, this a law of nature to thee! 
And if the planet, on the which thou livest
And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts,
It is not in thy choice whether or no
Thou’lt follow it.  Unfelt it whirls thee onward
Together with his ring, and all his moons. 
With little guilt stepp’st thou into this contest,
Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee,
For that thou held’st thy friend more worth to thee
Than names and influences more removed;
For justice is the virtue of the ruler,
Affection and fidelity the subject’s. 
Not every one doth it beseem to question
The far-off high Arcturus.  Most securely
Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty:  let
The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star.