Monologue

Antony Monologue from John Dryden

From John Dryden by All for Love

male · contemplative · 40 sec

Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius: A lady's favours may be worn with honour. What, to refuse her bracelet! On my soul, When I lie pensive in my tent alone, 'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights, To tell these pretty beads upon my arm, To count for every one a soft embrace, A melting kiss at such and such a time: And now and then the fury of her love, When----And what harm's in this?

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