[He hands him the paper.]
THE PRINCE (casts a glance at the document, turns and
looks about the circle of officers).
Kottwitz, old friend, come, let me clasp your hand!
You give me more than on the day of battle
I merited of you. But now, post-haste,
Go, back again to Arnstein whence you came,
Nor budge at all. I have considered it;
The death decreed to me I will accept!
[He hands over the paper to him.]
KOTTWITZ (distressed).
No, nevermore, my Prince! What are you saying?
HOHENZOLL. He wants to die—
TRUCHSZ. He shall not, must not die!
VARIOUS OFFICERS (pressing forward).
My lord Elector! Oh, my sovereign! Hear us!
THE PRINCE. Hush! It is my inflexible desire!
Before the eyes of all the soldiery
I wronged the holy code of war; and now
By my free death I wish to glorify it.
My brothers, what's the one poor victory
I yet may snatch from Wrangel worth to you
Against the triumph o'er the balefullest
Of foes within, that I achieve at dawn—
The insolent and disobedient heart.
Now shall the alien, seeking to bow down
Our shoulders 'neath his yoke, be crushed; and, free,
The man of Brandenburg shall take his stand
Upon the mother soil, for it is his—
The splendor of her meads alone for him!
KOTTWITZ (moved).
My son! My dearest friend! What shall I name you?
TRUCHSZ. God of the world!