COUNTESS.
O 'tis so hard to me this night to leave thee—
A boding fear possesses me!
WALLENSTEIN.
Fear! Wherefore?
COUNTESS.
Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking
Never more find thee!
WALLENSTEIN.
Fancies!
COUNTESS.
O my soul
Has long been weigh'd down by these dark fore-bodings,
And if I combat and repel them waking,
They will crush down upon my heart in dreams.
I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife
Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired.