Monologue

First Merchant Monologue from The Land of Heart's Desire

From The Land of Heart's Desire by W.B. Yeats

male · philosophical · 1:13 min

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There is no sign of change—day copies day, Green things are dead—the cattle too are dead, Or dying—and on all the vapour hangs And fattens with disease and glows with heat. In you is all the hope of all the land. (CATHLEEN: And heard you of the demons who buy souls?) There are some men who hold they have wolves’ heads, And say their limbs, dried by the infinite flame, Have all the speed of storms; others again Say they are gross and little; while a few Will have it they seem much as mortals are, But tall and brown and travelled, like us, lady. Yet all agree a power is in their looks That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net About their souls, and that all men would go And barter those poor flames—their spirits—only You bribe them with the safety of your gold.

About this piece

The First Merchant reflects on the nature of men and their desires, contrasting their perceived power and worth against the lure of material wealth.

30s · longing · identity · power · desire · wealth

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