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Monologue

Wallenstein Monologue from The Death of Wallenstein

From The Death of Wallenstein by Friedrich Schiller

male · contemplative · 1:32 min

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It was but yesterday I rescued him From abject wretchedness. Let that go by; I never reckoned yet on gratitude. And wherein doth he wrong in going from me? He follows still the god whom all his life He has worshipped at the gaming-table. With My fortune and my seeming destiny He made the bond and broke it, not with me. I am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed, And with the which, well-pleased and confident, He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it In eminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks, And hurries to preserve his wares. As light As the free bird from the hospitable twig Where it had nested he flies off from me: No human tie is snapped betwixt us two. Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, Naught sinks into the bosom's silent depth: Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul Warmeth the inner frame.

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