Springs from the deepest source of destiny.
In brief, 'tis signed and sealed that this Octavio
Is my good angel--and now no word more.

[He is retiring.

TERZKY.
This is my comfort--Max. remains our hostage.

ILLO.
And he shall never stir from here alive.

WALLENSTEIN (stops and turns himself round).
Are ye not like the women, who forever
Only recur to their first word, although
One had been talking reason by the hour!
Know, that the human being's thoughts and deeds
Are not like ocean billows, blindly moved.
The inner world, his microcosmus, is
The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally.
They grow by certain laws, like the tree's fruit--
No juggling chance can metamorphose them.
Have I the human kernel first examined?
Then I know, too, the future will and action.

[Exeunt.



SCENE IV.