Max monologue (Act 5) — The Piccolomini: A Play

Ay--this state policy! Oh, how I curse it! You will some time, with your state policy, Compel him to the measure: it may happen, Because ye are determined that he is guilty, Guilty ye'll make him. All retreat cut off, You close up every outlet, hem him in Narrower and narrower, till at length ye force him-- Yes, ye, ye force him, in his desperation, To set fire to his prison. Father! father! That never can end well--it cannot--will not! And let it be decided as it may, I see with boding heart the near approach Of an ill-starred, unblest catastrophe. For this great monarch-spirit, if he fall, Will drag a world into the ruin with him. And as a ship that midway on the ocean Takes fire, at once, and with a thunder-burst Explodes, and with itself shoots out its crew In smoke and ruin betwixt sea and heaven! So will he, falling, draw down in his fall All us, who're fixed and mortised to his fortune, Deem of it what thou wilt; but pardon me, That I must bear me on in my own way. All must remain pure betwixt him and me; And, ere the daylight dawns, it must be known Which I must lose--my father or my friend.