Shakespeare Monologues

Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare

Duke(Act 1, Scene 1): Angelo, There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use.

Troilus and Cressida Troilus (Act 5, Scene 2): Aye, Greek, and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflamed with Venus. Never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fixed a soul. Hark, Greek. As much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed. That sleeve is mine that he ll bear on his helm. Were it a casque composed by Vulcan s skill, My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful sprout Which shipmen do the hurricane call, Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamor Neptune s ear In his descent than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed.

Antony and Cleopatra

Antony (Act 3, Scene 11): I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone; I have myself resolved upon a course Which has no need of you; be gone: My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O, I follow'd that I blush to look upon: My very hairs do mutiny; for the white Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall Have letters from me to some friends that will Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad, Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint Which my despair proclaims; let that be left Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway: I will possess you of that ship and treasure. Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now: Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command, Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by.

Othello Othello (Act 4, Scene 2): Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction; had they rain'd All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head. Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at! Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,-Ay, there, look grim as hell!

OTHELLO (Act 5 Scene 2) It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again. It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree. Kissing her Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly; It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.