And yet remember I the good old proverb,
"Let the night come before we praise the day."
I would be slow from long-continued fortune
To gather hope: for Hope is the companion
Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven.
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men;
For still unsteady are the scales of fate.
WALLENSTEIN (smiling).
I hear the very Gordon that of old
Was wont to preach, now once more preaching;
I know well that all sublunary things
Are still the vassals of vicissitude.
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute;
This long ago the ancient Pagans knew:
And therefore of their own accord they offer'd
To themselves injuries, so to atone
The jealousy of their divinities:
And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.
[After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner.]
I too have sacrificed to him—For me
There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault
He fell! No joy from favorable fortune
Can overweight the anguish of this stroke.
The envy of my destiny is glutted
Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning
Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd me.
SCENE V
To these enter SENI
WALLENST.
Is not that Seni! and beside himself,
If one may trust his looks? What brings thee hither
At this late hour, Baptista?