Monologue

Attinghausen Monologue from Wilhelm Tell

From Wilhelm Tell by Friedrich Schiller

male · melancholic · 1:17 min

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Stay, Uly! Stay! Rash boy, he's gone! I can Nor hold him back, nor save him from destruction. And so the Wolfshot has deserted us;-- Others will follow his example soon. This foreign witchery, sweeping o'er our hills, Tears with its potent spell our youth away: O luckless hour, when men and manners strange Into these calm and happy valleys came, To warp our primitive and guileless ways. The new is pressing on with might. The old, The good, the simple, fleeteth fast away. New times come on. A race is springing up, That think not as their fathers thought before! What do I here? All, all are in the grave With whom ere while I moved and held converse; My age has long been laid beneath the sod: Happy the man who may not live to see What shall be done by those that follow me!

About this piece

60 and up · sadness · change · loss · identity · isolation

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