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 Loves Loabors Lost by Shakespeare
Character:Boyet
Gender:Male
Age (range):19-26
Style:Comedy (Classical)
Length:2 minutes
thinker
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Background Info: Boyet, right hand to the princess, is retelling what happened (what he saw). The Princess is an advisor to the King (not the same country). However, the king suddenly prohibits the council of women in his court. Boyet is a great reader-of-people, and thinks that the king and his men have fallen smitten with the princess. This monologue can be motivated many different ways. For instance: Boyet'd feelings towards other mens' attractions to the princess (is he jealous, does he like the men) I prefered to go with his realtionship being that he and the princess have a working relationship but Boyet would love for it to be more, but he knows it never will. Yet, whenever he's around her, he feels somehow it would happen. A feeling i know all too well!

Under the cool shade of a sycamore
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear,
That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:
Action and accent did they teach him there;
'Thus must thou speak,' and 'thus thy body bear:'
And ever and anon they made a doubt
Presence majestical would put him out,
'For,' quoth the king, 'an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.'
The boy replied, 'An angel is not evil;
I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.'
With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:
One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd and swore
A better speech was never spoke before;
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cried, 'Via! we will do't, come what will come;'
The third he caper'd, and cried, 'All goes well;'
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To cheque their folly, passion's solemn tears.

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