[He recollects himself.]
And I must now, like a soft-hearted father,
Couple together in good peasant-fashion
The pair, that chance to suit each other's liking—
And I must do it now, even now, when I
Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine
My full accomplish'd work—no! she is the jewel,
Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest,
And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me
For less than a king's sceptre.
DUCHESS.
O my husband!
You're ever building, building to the clouds,
Still building higher, and still higher building,
And ne'er reflect that the poor narrow basis
Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.
WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS).
Have you announced the place of residence
Which I have destined for her?
COUNTESS.
No! not yet.
'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her.
DUCHESS.
How? Do we not return to Carinthia then?