Antony And Cleopatra Monologue
| Antony And Cleopatra Monologue by William Shakespeare | |
| Character: | Antony |
| Gender: | Male |
| Age (range): | ? |
| Style: | Drama |
| Length: | < 3 minutes |
Looking for a published monologue? Want to know character
history & story background? We have exactly what you need! Join
Our Community today and gain access to dozens of monologues
for auditions, classes, competitions, workshops, and more!
Click To See What The
Buzz Is About... |
|
- 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!
- This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
