War! is that the name? War is as frightful as heaven's pestilence, Yet it is good, is it heaven's will as that is. Is that a good war, which against the emperor Thou wagest with the emperor's own army? O God of heaven! what a change is this. Beseems it me to offer such persuasion To thee, who like the fixed star of the pole Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean? O! what a rent thou makest in my heart! The ingrained instinct of old reverence, The holy habit of obediency, Must I pluck life asunder from thy name? Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me-- It always was as a god looking upon me! Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed; The senses still are in thy bonds, although Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself. (WALLENSTEIN: Max., hear me.) Oh, do it not, I pray thee, do it not! There is a pure and noble soul within thee, Knows not of this unblest unlucky doing. Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only Which hath polluted thee--and innocence, It will not let itself be driven away From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not, Thou canst not end in this. It would reduce All human creatures to disloyalty Against the nobleness of their own nature. 'Twill justify the vulgar misbelief, Which holdeth nothing noble in free will, And trusts itself to impotence alone, Made powerful only in an unknown power.

Max Piccolomini Monologue from The Death of Wallenstein

Rehearse Max Piccolomini's monologue