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The Death of Wallenstein by Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller
page 160 of 268 (59%)
From his detested sight! Away!

[MAX. attempts once more to approach THERLA. WALLENSTEIN prevents
him. MAX. stands irresolute, and in apparent anguish, In the
meantime the stage fills more and more; and the horns sound from
below louder and louder, and each time after a shorter interval.

MAX.
Blow, blow! Oh, were it but the Swedish trumpets,
And all the naked swords, which I see here,
Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you?
You come to tear me from this place! Beware,
Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not!
Ye may repent it!

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men.

Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down
Think what ye're doing. It is not well done
To choose a man despairing for your leader;
You tear me from my happiness. Well, then,
I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark!
For your own ruin you have chosen me
Who goes with me must be prepared to perish.

[He turns to the background; there ensues a sudden and violent
movement among the CUIRASSIERS; they surround him, and carry him
off in wild tumult. WALLENSTEIN remains immovable. THERLA sinks
into her mother's arms. The curtain falls. The music becomes
loud and overpowering, and passes into a complete war-march--the
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