From The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy by Friedrich Schiller

Silent or loud, my son, reproach shall never Disturb thy breast--ne'er in these halls shall sound The voice of wailing, gently on my tears My griefs shall flow away: the sport alike Of pitiless fate together we will mourn, And veil the deed of blood. DON CAESAR (with a faltering voice, and taking her hand). Thus it shall be, My mother--thus with silent, gentle woe Thy grief shall fade: but when one common tomb The murderer and his victim closes round-- When o'er our dust one monumental stone Is rolled--the curse shall cease--thy love no more Unequal bless thy sons: the precious tears Thine eyes of beauty weep shall sanctify Alike our memories. Yes! In death are quenched The fires of rage; and hatred owns subdued, The mighty reconciler. Pity bends An angel form above the funeral urn, With weeping, dear embrace. Then to the tomb Stay not my passage:--Oh, forbid me not, Thus with atoning sacrifice to quell The curse of heaven.

Isabella Monologue from The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy

Rehearse Isabella's monologue