Monologue Specific Flashcards
FRIAR FRANCIS
Yea, wherefore should she not?
LEONATO
Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? ,–why, she, O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again And salt too little which may season give To her foul-tainted flesh!
DON PEDRO
By my soul, nor I:
And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to.
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;
That were impossible: but,
I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died; and if your love
Can labour ought in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb
And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:
To-morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us:
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.
ANTONIO
If you go on tus, you will leil yourself?
And “is not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself
I pray thee, cease thy counsel
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve:
Bring me a father that so loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, And bid him speak of patience;
But there is no such man: for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, No, no; ‘tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
