Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A2S13

by Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

SCENE XIII.

(Octavio Piccolomini enters in conversation
with Maradas, and both place themselves
quite on the edge of the stage on one
side of the proscenium. On the side directly
opposite. Max. Piccolomini, by himself
lost in thought, and taking no part in any
thing that is going forward. The middle
space between both, but rather more distant
from the edge of the stage, is filled up by
Butler, Isolani, Goetz, Tiefenbach,
and Kolatto.)

ISOLANI (while the company is coming forward.)

. Good-night, good-night, Kolatto! Good-night,

lieutenant-General! I should rather say, good
morning.

GOETZ. (to Tiefenbach.)

Noble brother! (making the usual compliment

after meals).

TIEFENBACH.

Ay! 'twas a royal feast indeed.

GOETZ.

Yes, my lady countess understands these matters.

Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul,
taught her!—Ah! that was a housewife for you!

TIEFENBACH.

There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting

out a table.

OCTAVIO (aside to Maradas.)

Do me the favour to talk to me—talk of what

you will—or of nothing. Only preserve the
appearance at least of talking. I would not wish to
stand by myself, and yet I conjecture that there
will be goings on here worthy of our attentive
observation. (He continues to fix his eye on the whole following scene.)

ISOLANI. (on the point of going.)

Lights! lights!

TERTSKY. (advances with the paper to Isolani.)

Noble brother; two minutes longer! Here is

something to subscribe.

ISOLANI.

Subscribe as much as you like—but you must excuse me from reading it.

TERTSKY.

There is no need. It is the oath which you

have already read.—Only a few marks of your
pen! (Isolani hands over the paper to Octavio, respectfully.)

TERTSKY.

Nay, nay, first come, first serv'd. There is no

precedence here. (Octavio runs over the paper with apparent indifference. Tertsky watches him at some distance.}

GOETZ (to Tertsky.)

Noble count! with your permission—Good

night.

TERTSKY.

Where's the hurry? Come, one other composing

draught. (to the servants).—Ho!

GOETZ.

Excuse me—an't able.

TERTSKY.

A thimble-full!

GOETZ.

Excuse me.

TIEFENBACH. (sits down.)

Pardon me, nobles!—This standing does not

agree with me.

TERTSKY.

Consult your own convenience, General!

TIEFENBACH.

Clear at head, sound in stomach—only my legs

won't carry me any longer.

ISOLANI. (pointing at his corpulence)

Poor legs! how should they! Such an unmerciful

load! (Octavio subscribes his name, and
reaches over the paper to Tertsky, who gives it
to Isolani; and he goes to the table to sign his
name.)

TIEFENBACH.

'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought

it on. Out in all weathers—ice and snow—no help
for it. I shall never get the better of it all the
days of my life.

GOETZ.

Why, in simple verity, your Swede makes no

nice inquiries about the season.

TERTSKY. (observing Isolani, whose hand trembles

excessively so that he can scarce direct his

pen). Have you had that ugly complaint
long, noble brother?—Despatch it.

ISOLANI.

The sins of youth! I have already tried

the chalybeate waters. Well—I must bear it.
(Tertsky gives the paper to Maradas; he steps to
the table to subscribe.)

OCTAVIO. (advancing to Butler).

You are not over fond of the orgies of Bacchus,

Colonel! I have observed it. You would, I
think, find yourself more to your liking in the
uproar of a battle than of a feast.

BUTLER.

I must confess 'tis not in my way.

OCTAVIO. (stepping nearer to him friendlily.)

Nor in mine neither, I can assure you; and I am

not a little glad, my much honoured Colonel
Butler, that we agree so well in our opinions. A
half-dozen good friends at most, at a small round
table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts, and
a rational conversation—that's my taste!

BUTLER.

And mine, too, when it can be had. (The

paper comes to Tiefenbach, who glances over it
at the same time with Goetz and Kolatto.
Maradas in the meantime returns to Octavio, all this
takes places, the conversation with Butler proceeding
uninterrupted.)

OCTAVIO. (introducing Madaras to Butler.)

Don Balthasar Maradas! likewise a man of our

stamp, and long ago your admirer. (Butler bows)

OCTAVIO. (continuing.)

You are a stranger here—'twas but yesterday

you arriv'd—you are ignorant of the ways and
means here. 'Tis a wretched place—I know, at
our age, one loves to be snug and quiet—What
if you move your lodgings?—Come, be
my visitor. (Butler makes a low bow.) Nay,
without compliment!—For a friend like you I have
still a corner remaining.

BUTLER. (coldly.)

Your oblig'd humble servant, my Lord

Lieutenant-General! (The paper comes to Butler,
who goes to the table to subscribe it. The front
of the stage is vacant, so that both the Piccolominis,
each on the side where he had been from the
commencement of the scene, remain alone.

OCTAVIO. (After having some time watched

his son in silence, advances somewhat nearer

to him.) You were long absent from us, friend!

MAX.

I——urgent business detained me.

OCTAVIO.

And, I observe, you are still absent!

MAX.

You know this crowd and bustle always makes me silent.

OCTAVIO. (advancing still nearer.)

May I be permitted to ask what the business

was that detain'd you?—Tertsky knows it without
asking.

MAX.

What does Tertsky know?

OCTAVIO.

He was the only one who did not miss you.

ISOLANI. (who has been attending to them for
some distance steps up.) Well done, father!

Rout out his baggage! Beat up his quarters! There
is something there that should not be.

TERTSKY. (with the paper.)

Is there none wanting? Have the whole subscribed?

OCTAVIO.

All.

TERTSKY. (calling aloud.)

Ho! Who subscribes?

BUTLER (to Tertsky.)

Count the names. There ought to be just thirty.

TERTSKY.

Here is a cross.

TIEFENBACH.

That's my mark!

ISOLANI.

He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross,

and is honor'd by Jews as well as Christians.

OCTAVIO. (presses on to Max.)

Come, General! let us go. It is late.

TERTSKY.

One Piccolomini only has signed.

ISOLANI. (pointing to Max.)

Look! that is your man, that statue there, who

has had neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the
whole evening. ( Max. receives the paper from
Tertsky, which he looks upon vacantly.)