_Countess._ I fear not that. They have not evidence To attaint him legally, and they avoid 50 The avowal of an arbitrary power. They'll let the Duke resign without disturbance. I see how all will end. The King of Hungary Makes his appearance, and 'twill of itself Be understood, that then the Duke retires. 55 There will not want a formal declaration. The young King will administer the oath To the whole army; and so all returns To the old position. On some morrow morning The Duke departs; and now 'tis stir and bustle 60 Within his castles. He will hunt, and build, Superintend his horses' pedigrees; Creates himself a court, gives golden keys, And introduceth strictest ceremony In fine proportions, and nice etiquette; 65 Keeps open table with high cheer; in brief, Commenceth mighty King--in miniature. And while he prudently demeans himself, And gives himself no actual importance, He will be let appear whate'er he likes; 70 And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear A mighty Prince to his last dying hour? Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others, A fire-new Noble, whom the war hath raised To price and currency, a Jonah's Gourd, 75 An over-night creation of court-favour, Which with an undistinguishable ease Makes Baron or makes Prince. _Wallenstein._ Take her away. Let in the young Count Piccolomini. _Countess._ Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou 80 Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave, So ignominiously to be dried up? Thy life, that arrogated such a height To end in such a nothing! To be nothing, When one was always nothing, is an evil 85 That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil, But to become a nothing, having been---- _Wallenstein (starts up)._ Shew me a way out of this stifling crowd, Ye Powers of Aidance! Shew me such a way As I am capable of going.--I 90 Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler; I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say To the good luck that turns her back upon me, Magnanimously: 'Go! I need thee not.' Cease I to work, I am annihilated, 95 Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun, If so I may avoid the last extreme; But ere I sink down into nothingness, Leave off so little, who began so great, Ere that the world confuses me with those 100 Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles, This age and after-ages[701:1] speak my name With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption For each accurséd deed!