Svietlovidoff Monologue from Swan Song

From Swan Song by Anton Chekhov

male · contemplative · 1:06 min

“Rumble thy bellyful! spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters; I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children.” Ah! there is strength, there is talent for you! I’m a great artist! Now, then, here’s something else of the same kind, to bring back my youth to me. For instance, take this, from Hamlet, I’ll begin... Let me see, how does it go? Oh, yes, this is it. (Takes the part of Hamlet) “O! the recorders, let me see one.--To withdraw with you. Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?”

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