By all the blood that ever fury breath’d, The youth says well. Now hear our English king, For thus his royalty doth speak in me: He is prepar’d, and reason too he should. This apish and unmannerly approach, This harness’d masque and unadvised revel, This unhair’d sauciness and boyish troops, The King doth smile at; and is well prepar’d To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories. That hand which had the strength, even at your door, To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, To dive like buckets in concealed wells, To crouch in litter of your stable planks, To lie like pawns lock’d up in chests and trunks, To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake Even at the crying of your nation’s crow, Thinking this voice an armed Englishman; Shall that victorious hand be feebled here That in your chambers gave you chastisement? No! Know the gallant monarch is in arms And like an eagle o’er his aery towers To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.— And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame! For your own ladies and pale-visag’d maids Like Amazons come tripping after drums, Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination.

Bastard Monologue from King John

Rehearse Bastard's monologue