Old M Monologue from The Robbers

From The Robbers by Friedrich Schiller

male · anguished · 1:03 min

Dost thou know this portrait, my daughter? (AMELIA: Charles!) Such was he in his sixteenth year. But now, alas! how changed. Oh, it is raging within me. That gentleness is now indignation; that smile despair. It was his birthday, was it not, Amelia--in the jessamine bower--when you drew this picture of him? Oh, my daughter! How happy was I in your loves. AMELIA (with her eye still riveted upon the picture). No, no, it is not he! By Heaven, that is not Charles! Here (pointing to her head and her heart), here he is perfect; and how different. The feeble pencil avails not to express that heavenly spirit which reigned in his fiery eye. Away with it! This is a poor image, an ordinary man! I was a mere dauber.

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