Even to the Emperor we did not submit, When he gave judgment 'gainst us for the church; For when the Abbey of Einsiedlen claimed The Alp our fathers and ourselves had grazed, And showed an ancient charter, which bestowed The land on them as being ownerless-- For our existence there had been concealed-- What was our answer? This: "The grant is void. No Emperor can bestow what is our own: And if the Empire shall deny our rights, We can, within our mountains, right ourselves!" Thus spake our fathers! And shall we endure The shame and infamy of this new yoke, And from the vassal brook what never king Dared, in his plenitude of power, attempt? This soil we have created for ourselves, By the hard labour of our hands; we've changed The giant forest, that was erst the haunt Of savage bears, into a home for man; Extirpated the dragon's brood, that wont To rise, distent with venom, from the swamps; Rent the thick misty canopy that hung Its blighting vapours on the dreary waste; Blasted the solid rock; across the chasm Thrown the firm bridge for the wayfaring man. By the possession of a thousand years The soil is ours. And shall an alien lord, Himself a vassal, dare to venture here, Insult us by our own hearth fires,--attempt To forge the chains of bondage for our hands, And do us shame on our own proper soil? Is there no help against such wrong as this? (Great sensation among the people.) Yes! there's a limit to the despot's power! When the oppress'd for justice looks in vain, When his sore burden may no more be borne, With fearless heart he makes appeal to Heaven, And thence brings down his everlasting rights, Which there abide, inalienably his, And indestructible as are the stars. Nature's primaeval state returns again, Where man stands hostile to his fellow man; And if all other means shall fail his need, One last resource remains--his own good sword. Our dearest treasures call to us for aid, Against the oppressor's violence; we stand For country, home, for wives, for children here! ALL (clashing their swords). Here stand we for our homes, our wives, and children.

Werner Stauffacher Monologue from Wilhelm Tell

About this piece

Rehearse Werner Stauffacher's monologue

More from Wilhelm Tell