And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

MAX.
Oh, hadst thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion,
Unholy, miserable doubt! To him
Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm
Who has no faith.

OCTAVIO.
And if I trust thy heart,
Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

MAX.
The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpowered--as little
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

OCTAVIO.
O, Max.! I see thee never more again!

MAX.
Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

OCTAVIO.
I go to Frauenberg--the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokana
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant contest