Wallenstein monologue (Act 1) — The Death of Wallenstein

It is his evil genius and mine. Our evil genius! It chastises him Through me, the instrument of his ambition; And I expect no less, than that revenge E'en now is whetting for my breast the poinard. Who sows the serpent's teeth let him not hope To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime Has, in the moment of its perpetration, Its own avenging angel--dark misgiving, An ominous sinking at the inmost heart. He can no longer trust me. Then no longer Can I retreat--so come that which must come. Still destiny preserves its due relations, The heart within us is its absolute Vicegerent. [To TERZKY. Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel To my state cabinet. Myself will speak to The couriers. And despatch immediately A servant for Octavio Piccolomini.