The Duke Monologue from L'Aiglon

From L'Aiglon by Edmond Rostand

male · melancholic · 57 sec

Ah, bah! Into our friendship I let fall a drop, And friendship turns to troubled love. I'll wait. (He sees THERESA.) Why! What is this? How comes it you are here? So you're not hastening toward the skies of Parma? And all this grass? What are you? (THERESA: "Little Brooklet.") Ah, yes, I know. An exile on his rock, My father had a brooklet for his friend To drown the gaoler's voice, and that is why At Schönbrunn, which is my Saint Helena, My soul must not be left deprived of comfort. Having the gaoler I've the brooklet too. (THERESA: But you will never stoop to look at me.) Because I dreamed of flying from my rock; But that's all over.

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