(Octavio drops his hand, and ftarts back.) Ó, hadst thou been but fimple and fincere, Ne'er had it come to this-all had ftood otherwise. He had not done that foul and horrible deed, The virtuous had retained their influence o'er him: He had not fallen into the fnares of villains. Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice Did'ft creep behind him-lurking for thy prey? O, unbleft falfehood! Mother of all evil! Thou mifery-making dæmon, it is thou That fink'ft us in perdition. Simple truth, Suftainer of the world, had fav'd us all! Father, I will not, I cannot excufe thee! Wallenftein has deceiv'd me-O, most foully! But thou haft acted not much better.

OCTAVIO.

Son!

My fon, ah! I forgive thy agony!

MAX. (rifes, and contemplates his father with looks of fufpicion.)

1

Was't poffible? had'ft thou the heart, my father, Had'ft thou the heart to drive it to fuch lengths, With cold premeditated purpose? ThouHad'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty, Rather than fav'd? Thou rifeft by his fall. Octavio, 'twill not please me.

OCTAVIO.

God in Heaven!

MAX.

O, woe is me! fure I have chang'd my nature.

How comes fufpicion here-in the free foul?
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all
Lied to me, all what I e'er lov'd or honour'd.
No! No! Not all! She-fhe yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the Heavens !
Deceit is every where, hypocrify,
Murder, and poisoning, treafon, perjury:
The fingle holy fpot is our love,

The only unprofan'd in human nature.

OCTAVIO.

Max!-we will go together. 'Twill be better.

MAX.

What? ere I've taken a last parting leave,
The very last-no never!

OCTAVIO.

Spare thyself

The pang of neceffary separation.

Come with me! Come, my fon!

(Attempts to take him with him.)

MAX.

No! as fure as God lives, no!

OCTAVIO. (more urgently.)

Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

MAX.

Command me what is human.

I stay here.

OCTAVIO.

Max in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.

MAX.

No Emperor hath power to prescribe

P 2

Laws

Laws to the heart; and would't thou wifh to rob

me

Of the fole bleffing which my fate has left me,
Her fympathy. Muft then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly-steal away,

With stealthy coward flight forfake her? No!
She shall behold my fuffering, my fore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the difparted foul,
And weep tears o'er me, O! the human race
Have steely fouls-but the is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my foul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

OCTAVIO.

Thou will not tear thyself away, thou can't not, O, come, my fon! I bid thee fave thy virtue,

MAX,

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

OCTAVIO. (trembling, and lofing all felfcommand.)

Max! Max! if that most damned thing could be, If thou-my fon-my own blood-(dare I think

it ?)

Do fell thyself to him, the infamous,

Do ftamp this brand upon our noble house,
Then fhall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel

Of the fon trickle with the father's blood.

MAX.

O hadft thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curft fufpicion!
Unholy'miferable doubt! To him

Nothing on earth remains unwrench'd and firm,
Who has no faith.

OCTAVIO.

And if I truft thy heart,

Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

MAX.

The heart's voice thou haft not o'erpower'd-as

little

Will Wallenftein be able to o'erpower it,

OCTAVIO.

O, Max! I fee thee never more again!

MAX.

Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

OCTAVIO.

I go to Frauenberg-the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tofkana
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant conteft
Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour.

MAX.

Rely on this, I either leave my life

In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilfen...

Farewell, my fon!

OCTAVIO.

MAX.

Farewell!

OCTAVIO.

OCTAVIO.

How? not one look

Of filial love? No grafp of th' hand at parting?
It is a bloody war, to which we are going,
And the event uncertain and in darkness.
So us'd we not to part-it was not fo!
Is it then true? I have a fon no longer?

(Max. falls into his arms, they hold each for a long time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different fides.)

THE CURTAIN DROPS.

Printed by G. Woodfall, No. 22, Paternofter-Row, London.