Page:Wallenstein, a drama in 2 parts - Schiller (tr. Coleridge) (1800).djvu/234

Laws to the heart, and would'st thou wish to rob me
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy. Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly—steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. O! the human race
Have steely souls—but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

OCTAVIO.
Thou will not tear thyself away, thou can'st not.
O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

MAX.
Squander not thou thy words in vain.
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

OCTAVIO. (trembling, and losing all self-command.)
Max! Max! if that mod damned thing could be,
If thou—my son—my own blood—(dare I think it?)
Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,
Do stamp this brand upon our noble house,
Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

MAX.