Octavio monologue (Act 1) — The Piccolomini: A Play

My son! of those old narrow ordinances Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind, Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors. For always formidable was the League And partnership of free power with free will. The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, Is yet no devious path. Straight forward goes The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies, and rapid; Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches, My son, the road the human being travels, That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river's course, the valley's playful windings, Curves round the cornfield and the hill of vines, Honoring the holy bounds of property! And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.