My life's the dream thou dost aspire to scatter. (THOR: It is thy death!) What death? See fate accomplished! Behold this spear which late the Leir-King brandish'd! My knee grew weak: I stagger'd when it struck me; Yet still I live, and it to earth fell blunted. THOR (Whilst he surveys the spear). Do not deceive thyself, this spear was harden'd In flames celestial, not in Nastroud's blazes. But death has greeted Odin's son, and Rota, She who invites the hero-kings to Valhall, Is here, where never din of arms resounded. With terror view'd I battle's haughty daughter: Dark stood she on a rock, enveiled in vapour; And on her shoulder, on her steel-cas'd shoulder, The bird of death, the mournful owl, sat croaking. Whom seeks she, far from every bloody Champain? And Surtur's branch, how soon is that discover'd, If fate but wish! And think'st thou Loke slumbers? Ah, Balder fly! forget a foolish passion! Fly, ere thy fate, which hasteneth, is accomplish'd. Follow me straight!

Balder Monologue from The Death of Balder

Rehearse Balder's monologue