frenzy?

DUCHESS _and_ COUNTESS.

No!
For God's sake, no!

ILLO.

Not yet, my General
O hold him! hold him!

WALLENSTEIN.

Leave me.

MAX.

Do it not;
Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them
Into a frenzy-fit--allow them time--

WALLENST.

Away! too long already have I loiter'd.
They are emboldened to these outrages,
Beholding not my face. They shall behold
My countenance, shall hear my voice--
Are they not _my_ troops? Am I not their General,
And their long-fear'd commander? Let me see
Whether indeed they do no longer know
That countenance, which was their sun in battle!
From the balcony (mark!) I show myself
To these rebellious forces, and at once
Revolt is mounded, and the high-swoln current
Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience.

[_Exit_ WALLENSTEIN; ILLO, TERZKY, _and_ BUTLER _follow_.]

SCENE XXI

COUNTESS, DUCHESS, MAX _and_ THEKLA

COUNTESS (_to the_ DUCHESS).

Let them but see him--there is hope still, sister.

DUCHESS.

Hope! I have none!

MAX (_who during the last scene has been standing at a
distance, in a visible struggle of feelings, advances_).

This can I not endure.
With most determined soul did I come hither;
My purposed action seem'd unblamable
To my own conscience--and I must stand here
Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being:
Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!
Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,
Whom I with one word can make happy--O!
My heart revolts within me, and two voices
Make themselves audible within my bosom.
My soul's benighted; I no longer can
Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly
Didst thou say, father, I relied too much
On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro--
know not what to do.

COUNTESS.

What! you know not?
Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I
Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor,
A frightful traitor to us--he has plotted
Against our General's life, has plunged us all
In misery--and you're his son! 'Tis yours
To make the _amends_--Make you the son's fidelity
Outweigh the father's treason, that the name
Of Piccolomini be not a proverb
Of infamy, a common form of cursing
To the posterity of Wallenstein.

MAX.

Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow!
It speaks no longer in _my_ heart. We all
But utter what our passionate wishes