Rudenz monologue (Act 2) — Wilhelm Tell

Yes, I conceal it not. It doth offend My inmost soul to hear the stranger's gibes, That taunt us with the name of "Peasant Nobles." Think you the heart that's stirring here can brook, While all the young nobility around Are reaping honor under Hapsburg's banner, That I should loiter, in inglorious ease, Here on the heritage my fathers left, And, in the dull routine of vulgar toil, Lose all life's glorious spring? In other lands Deeds are achieved. A world of fair renown Beyond these mountains stirs in martial pomp. My helm and shield are rusting in the hall; The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast, The herald's call, inviting to the lists, Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught Save cowherd's horn and cattle-bell is heard, In one unvarying, dull monotony.