BURGOMASTER.
So heavy that
We totter under them. The garrison
Lives at our costs.
WALLENSTEIN.
I will relieve you. Tell me,
There are some Protestants among you still
[The BURGOMASTER hesitates.]
Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie conceal'd
Within these walls—confess now—you your self—
[Fixes his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER
alarmed.]
Be not alarm'd. I hate the Jesuits.
Could my will have determined it, they had
Been long ago expell'd the empire. Trust me—
Mass-book or bible, 'tis all one to me.
Of that the world has had sufficient proof.
I built a church for the Reform'd in Glogau
At my own instance. Harkye, Burgomaster!
What is your name?
BURGOMASTER.
Pachhalbel, may it please you.