Then betwixt thee and him (confess it Friedland!) The point can be no more of right and duty, Only of power and the opportunity. That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat, Seize with firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest Of the now empty seat. The moment comes; It is already here, when thou must write The absolute total of thy life's vast sum. The constellations stand victorious o'er thee, The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions, And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses Hast thou thy life long measured to no purpose? The quadrant and the circle, were they play-things? [_Pointing to the different objects in the room_.] The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven, Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed These seven presiding Lords of Destiny-- For toys? Is all this preparation nothing? Is there no marrow in this hollow art, That even to thyself it doth avail Nothing, and has no influence over thee In the great moment of decision?-- WALLENSTEIN. (_during this last speech walks up and down with inward struggles, laboring with passion; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupting the_ COUNTESS). Send Wrangel to me--I will instantly Dispatch three couriers-- ILLO (_hurrying out_). God in heaven be praised! WALLENST. It is _his_ evil genius and _mine_. Our evil genius! It chastises _him_ Through me, the instrument of his ambition; And I expect no less than that Revenge E'en now is whetting for _my_ breast the poinard. Who sows the serpent's teeth, let him not hope To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime Has, in the moment of its perpetration, Its own avenging angel--dark misgiving, An ominous sinking at the inmost heart. He can no longer trust me. Then no longer Can I retreat--so come that which must come. Still destiny preserves its due relations, The heart within us is its absolute Vicegerent. [_To TERZKY_.] Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel To my state-cabinet.--Myself will speak to The couriers.--And dispatch immediately A servant for Octavio Piccolomini. [_To the _COUNTESS, _who cannot conceal her triumph_.] No exultation! woman, triumph not! For jealous are the Powers of Destiny. Joy premature, and shouts ere victory, Encroach upon their rights and privileges. We sow the seed, and they the growth determine. [_While he is making his exit the curtain drops_.] * * * * * ACT II SCENE I _Scene, as in the preceding Act_ WALLENSTEIN, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI WALLENSTEIN (_coming forward in conversation_).