Monologue

Hother Monologue from The Death of Balder

From The Death of Balder by Johannes Ewald

male · defiant · 1:13 min

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Ha, trembling! My curse upon the slave who first invented A word which ne'er my Nanna's lips should sully; Thy excusations kill me! I imagined It was a chaste, a maidenish reflection, That made my Nanna blush at our affection: Unmurmuring I obeyed, and kept in secret. Why hast thou ta'en from me that sweet delusion? Why spak'st thou not, and say for whom thou tremblest? For Balder's death? Thou lovest then thy half-god. But no, ye gods! No, I believe thee, Nanna! It is for mine, for Hother's death, thou fearest. Then think'st thou me so weak, so wholly powerless, And lov'st me still? When e'er lov'd maids the dastard? (NANNA: 'Tis no disgrace to quake before a half-god!) 'Fore Odin's self mere cowards quake. Now hear me! I--I, or Balder, die to-day!

About this piece

20s · anger · love · death · betrayal · identity

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