The Duke monologue — L'Aiglon

Why, if you think of it, dear friend, Napoleon's son, Don Juan, is strict logic. The soul's the same: ever dissatisfied; The same unceasing lust of victory. Oh splendid blood another has corrupted, Who, striving to be Cæsar, was not able; Thy energy is not all dead within me. A misbegotten Cæsar is Don Juan! Yes, 'tis another way of conquering; Thus I shall know that fever of the heart Which Byron tells us kills whom it devours; And 'tis a way of being still my father. Napoleon or Don Juan!--They're decision, The magic will, and the seductive grace. When to retake a great unfaithful land, Calm and alone, sure of himself and her, The adventurer landed in the Gulf of Juan, He felt Don Juan's thrill; and when Don Juan Pricked a new conquest in his list of loves, Did he not feel the pride of Bonaparte? And, after all, who knows whether 'tis greater To conquer worlds, or be a moment loved? So be it? 'Tis well the legend closes thus, And that _this_ conqueror is the other's son. I'm the fair shadow of the dusky hero, And, as he conquered nations, one by one, So will I conquer women, one by one. Moonbeams shall be my sun of Austerlitz!