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 dictate:
Oh that an angel would descend from heaven,
And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted,
With a pure hand from the pure Fount of light.
[His eyes glance on THEKLA.
What other angel seek I? To this heart,
To this unerring heart, will I submit it;
Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless
The happy man alone, averted ever
From the disquieted and guilty--canst thou
Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst,
And I am the duke's----

COUNTESS.
Think, niece----

MAX.
Think nothing, Thekla!
Speak what thou feelest.

COUNTESS.
Think upon your father.

MAX.
I did not question thee, as Friedland's daughter.