Monologue

Cleopatra Monologue from All for Love

From All for Love by John Dryden

female · anguished · 1:16 min

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No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence; Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these Weak arms to hold you here. (Takes his hand.) Go; leave me, soldier (For you're no more a lover): leave me dying: Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom, And, when your march begins, let one run after, Breathless almost for joy, and cry--She's dead. The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh, And muster all your Roman gravity: Ventidius chides; and straight your brow clears up, As I had never been. (ANTONY: Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.) What is't for me then, A weak, forsaken woman, and a lover?-- Here let me breathe my last: envy me not This minute in your arms: I'll die apace, As fast as e'er I can, and end your trouble.

About this piece

Cleopatra is grappling with the impending departure of her lover, expressing her deep sorrow and sense of loss as she contemplates her own mortality and the emotional void his absence will create.

30s · sadness · love · death · betrayal · isolation

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Run it out loud with a spotlight that follows your voice, line by line, until it's off the page. Free to start, no credit card.

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