Antony And Cleopatra Monologue
| Antony And Cleopatra Monologue by William Shakespeare | |
| Character: | Antony |
| Gender: | Male |
| Age (range): | ? |
| Style: | Drama |
| Length: | 4 minutes |
Gotten Your Monologue Manager Yet? It's the only software of its kind that will easily allow you to search for, manage, and organize all your monologues at the click of a button! Click Here to Get it Now and we'll even throw in 400+ Monologues! |
|
- ANTONY: All is lost!
- This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
- My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder
- They cast their caps up and carouse together
- Like friends long lost. Triple-turned whore! 'tis thou
- Has sold me to this novice, and my heart
- Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
- For when I am revenged upon my charm,
- I have done all. Bid them all fly, begone.
- O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more.
- Fortune and Antony part here, even here
- Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
- That spanieled me at heels, to whom I gave
- Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
- On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is barked,
- That overtopped them all. Betrayed I am.
- O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,
- Whose eye becked forth my wars, and called them home,
- Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,
- Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose
- Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
- What, Eros, Eros! [Enter Cleopatra.] Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!
- Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving
- And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee
- And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians;
- Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
- Of all thy sex. Most monster-like be shown
- For poor'st diminitives, for dolts, and let
- Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
- With her preparèd nails. [Exit Cleopatra.] 'Tis well th' art gone,
- If it be well to live; but better 'twere
- Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
- Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
- The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me,
- Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage.
- Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon
- And with those hands that grasped the heaviest club
- Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die.
- To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
- Under his plot: she dies for 't. Eros, ho!
