First Cuirassier Monologue from Wallenstein's Camp: A Play

From Wallenstein's Camp: A Play by Friedrich Schiller

male · defiant · 1:15 min

Peace, good sirs, will you come to blows? Have you a quarrel and squabble to know If the emperor be our master or no? 'Tis because of our rank, as his soldiers brave, That we scorn the lot of the herded slave; And will not be driven from place to place, As priest or puppies our path may trace. And, tell me, is't not the sovereign's gain, If the soldiers their dignity will maintain? Who but his soldiers give him the state Of a mighty, wide-ruling potentate? Make and preserve for him, far and near, The voice which Christendom quakes to hear? Well enough they may his yoke-chain bear, Who feast on his favors, and daily share, In golden chambers, his sumptuous fare. We--we of his splendors have no part, Naught but hard wearying toil and care, And the pride that lives in a soldier's heart.

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