Thinkest thou I am a child, or frantic? What avails perchance?--With no vain hope canst thou hide from me this dreadful certainty... Ye shall hear me and ye will: for I see it, ye are overwhelmed, ye cannot hearken to the voice of your own hearts. Through the present peril cast but one glance into the past,--the recent past. Send your thoughts forward into the future. Could ye live, would ye live, were he to perish? With him expires the last breath of freedom. What was he not to you? For whose sake did he expose himself to the direst perils? His blood flowed, his wounds were healed for you alone. The mighty spirit, that upheld you all, a dungeon now confines, while the horrors of secret murder are hovering around. Perhaps he thinks of you--perhaps he hopes in you,--he who has been accustomed only to grant favours to others and to fulfil their prayers. (Carpenter: Come, gossip.) I have neither the arms, nor the vigour of a man; but I have that which ye all lack--courage and contempt of danger. O that my breath could kindle your souls! That, pressing you to this bosom, I could arouse and animate you! Come! I will march in your midst!--As a waving banner, though weaponless, leads on a gallant army of warriors, so shall my spirit hover, like a flame, over your ranks, while love and courage shall unite the dispersed and wavering multitude into a terrible host.

Clara Monologue from Egmont

Rehearse Clara's monologue