_Coelestin_. Then, my lord, according to the measure of my wisdom I must speak here for this child, who in his innocence cannot comprehend how basely thou hast forsaken thy people. I must embolden myself to speak a last warning to thee. I speak not of the sins that now already weigh thee down: eternal God shall judge them, for thou mayst not sin and not atone. But even now thy spirit, corroded with rancorous spite, hast turned the edge of our ancestral sword against thy honor and thy manhood. Lo, there it glistens in thy burning grasp; and to that all-avenging sword I make my prayer: to the arm where still resides our safety: to the eyes from which looks out an unquenched thirst of fighting: that thou wilt lead to victory thy broken people, who surround the tower and call upon thee in their need. _King_. The sword that I unthinking raised--led thereto by occasion only--I will lay down still clean. Thou callest it the all-avenging; and it shall win that praise itself. Let the foe mow you down in sheaves, it shall be naught to me,--it comes too late. _Coelestin_. Good! Though thou so hatest thy people-- _King_. I hate ye not. _Coelestin_. As to appease thy long-cherished revenge by scornful laughter in their hour of need, yet one thing I shall never think, sir King,--that thou wilt yield without a struggle, and give up thy weaponless body to the slaughter. _King_. What can I otherwise? In whose blood shall I dip this body to make it consecrate? With what right shall I plunge this sword into fiery service? He who stands without there serves a righteous cause. So sayest thou. The Chancellor, likewise. You all agree. Therefore I counsel thee: be wise, rescue your country and make clean your house. There is still time ... the storm yet lulls. The Duke has need of me; deliver me to him. _Coelestin_. All my strength is broken against this madness, which destroys itself.... And the hour presses.... What can I do? The crowd shrieks lamentations in my ear. Kneel down, my child, stretch out thy arms,--perhaps, that silent picture will reach this heart. [_He makes the young_ Prince _kneel down._] _King_. Stand up. . . Come here. . . Thou hast stood in my way, and yet I loved thee. A madness, an absurdity! [_Aside._] Suppose: if thou wert not,--if in this coming hour I might but strike a blow for my own throne.... Where now? _The young Prince_ [_clinging to_ Hans]. I am afraid. _Hans Lorbass_ [_gazing at the_ King]. There is the pinch. [_Going up to him, aside_]. And if--- _King_. If--what? _Hans Lorbass_. If through some chance, quite unforseen, this land should all at once become thine own, entirely thine? _King_ [_bewildered_]. What dost thou mean? _Hans Lorbass_. Well then, if that should disappear that stands in thy way? [_Bursting out._] Then wouldst thou take thy sword in both thy hands and storm exulting on the foe?... Well? _King_. I understand thee not. _Hans Lorbass_. Then--