I am lost with rage, And know not what I am my self, nor you: Away, dare such as you, that love the smoke Of peace more than the fire of glorious War, And like unprofitable drones, feed on Your grandsires labours, that, as I am now, Were gathering Bees, and fill'd their Hive, this Country With brave triumphant spoils, censure our actions? You object my prizes to me, had you seen The horrour of a Sea-fight, with what danger I made them mine; the fire I fearless fought in, And quench'd it in mine enemies blood, which straight Like oyle pour'd out on't, made it burn anew; My Deck blown up, with noise enough to mock The lowdest thunder, and the desperate fools That Boorded me, sent, to defie the tempests That were against me, to the angrie Sea, Frighted with men thrown o're; no victory, But in despight of the four Elements, The Fire, the Air, the Sea, and sands hid in it To be atchiev'd, you would confess poor men, (Though hopeless, such an honourable way To get or wealth, or honour) in your selves He that through all these dreadfull passages Pursued and overtook them, unaffrighted, Deserves reward, and not to have it stil'd By the base name of theft.

Champ Monologue from The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy

Rehearse Champ's monologue