Octavio. Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.

Max. No Emperor has power to prescribe
Laws to the heart; and would'st thou wish to rob me 45
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly—steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! 50
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race
Have steely souls—but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair 55
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

Octavio. Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.
O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

Max. Squander not thou thy words in vain. [60]
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

Octavio. Max! Max! if that most damnéd thing could be,
If thou—my son—my own blood—(dare I think it?)
[[723]] Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,
Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, 65
Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

Max. O hadst thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion! [70]
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'erpower'd—as little 75
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.