The Duke Monologue from L'Aiglon

From L'Aiglon by Edmond Rostand

male · romantic · 1:06 min

Ah, forgive me, mother, mother. Go to the ball, forget my frenzied words. You need not even trouble to repeat them To Metternich, my mother. (MARIA LOUISA: Do you think so?) Softly the waltz floats through the evening air; No, tell him nothing; that will save you trouble. Forget it all: you, who forget so quickly! (MARIA LOUISA: Yet--) Think of Parma, of the Sala palace, And of your happy life. Is this a brow To bear the shadow of an eagle's wing? Ah! but I love you more than you can think! And take no heed of aught--not even--O gods!-- Of being faithful: I'll be that for both. Come, let me thrust you gently toward the ball; Good-night, The mosses must not wet your feet. Your headdress is perfection.

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