Oh, that is never possible for thee! 'Tis the last desperate resource of those Cheap souls, to whom their honor, their good name, Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep, Which, having staked and lost, they staked themselves In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich And glorious; with an unpolluted heart Thou canst make conquest of whate'er seems highest! But he who once hath acted infamy Does nothing more in this world. WALLENSTEIN (grasps his hand). Calmly, Max.! Much that is great and excellent will we Perform together yet. And if we only Stand on the height with dignity, 'tis soon Forgotten, Max., by what road we ascended. Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now, That yet was deeply sullied in the winning. To the evil spirit doth the earth belong, Not to the good. All that the powers divine Send from above are universal blessings Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes, But never yet was man enriched by them: In their eternal realm no property Is to be struggled for--all there is general. The jewel, the all-valued gold we win From the deceiving powers, depraved in nature, That dwell beneath the day and blessed sunlight. Not without sacrifices are they rendered Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth That e'er retired unsullied from their service.

Max Piccolomini Monologue from The Death of Wallenstein

Rehearse Max Piccolomini's monologue