And if I bring it to you in black on white, That all the leaders who are present here Give themselves up to you, without condition; Say, will you then--then will you show yourself In earnest, and with some decisive action Try your fortune. (WALLENSTEIN: Get but the signatures!) Think what thou dost, thou canst not execute The emperor's orders, nor reduce thine army, Nor send the regiments to the Spaniards' aid, Unless thou wouldst resign thy power forever. Think on the other hand--thou canst not spurn The emperor's high commands and solemn orders, Nor longer temporize, nor seek evasion, Wouldst thou avoid a rupture with the court. Resolve then! Wilt thou now by one bold act Anticipate their ends, or, doubting still, Await the extremity? (WALLENSTEIN: There's time before The extremity arrives.) Seize, seize the hour, Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty. To make a great decision possible, O! many things, all transient and all rapid, Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met May by that confluence be enforced to pause Time long-enough for wisdom, though too short, Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple! This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, Our best, our noblest, are assembled round you, Their king-like leader! On your nod they wait. The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune Hath woven together in one potent web Instinct with destiny, O! let them not Unravel of themselves. If you permit These chiefs to separate, so unanimous Bring you them not a second time together. 'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, And every individual's spirit waxes In the great stream of multitudes. Behold They are still here, here still! But soon the war Bursts them once more asunder, and in small Particular anxieties and interests Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy Of each man with the whole. He who to-day Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream, Will become sober, seeing but himself. Feel only his own weakness, and with speed Will face about, and march on in the old High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road, And seek but to make shelter in good plight.

Illo Monologue from The Piccolomini: A Play

Rehearse Illo's monologue