Our harvest wasn't ready. It takes a lot of snow to make the fall crops ripen--nay, centuries must pass before you will even see the first shoots. All the conspirators are under arrest, they say, and te deums are sung on that account. But they are mistaken; conspirators are abroad everywhere--in the royal apartments, in the churches, and in the market-places--but they dare not do what we have dared. And yet they'll reach that point some time. Good-bye, Olof! You must live a little longer, for you are young. I shall die with the utmost pleasure. The name of every new martyr becomes the rallying-cry for a new host. Don't believe that a human soul was ever set on fire by a lie. Don't ever distrust those feelings that shake you to your inmost soul when you have seen some one suffer spiritual or physical oppression. If the whole world tell you that you are wrong, believe your own heart just the same--if you are brave enough to do so. The day when you deny your self--then you are dead, and eternal perdition will seem a mercy to one who, has been guilty of the sin against the Holy Ghost. (Olof: You speak of my release as though it were a certainty.) The Corporation has offered 500 ducats for your ransom, and if it cost only 2000 to get Birgitta declared a saint, then 500 should suffice to get you declared guiltless. The King doesn't dare to take your life! (Enter the Lord High Constable, followed by the Headsman and soldiers.) (Constable: Take away Gert the Printer.) Good-bye, Olof! Take care of my daughter, and don't ever forget the great Whitsunday!

Gert The Printer Monologue from Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts

Rehearse Gert The Printer's monologue