Monologue

Constance Monologue from King John

From King John by William Shakespeare

female · defiant · 1:32 min

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If thou, that bid’st me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and sland’rous to thy mother’s womb, Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch’d with foul moles and eye-offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content, For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune join’d to make thee great. Of Nature’s gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O, She is corrupted, chang’d, and won from thee; She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, And with her golden hand hath pluck’d on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune and King John, That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone, And leave those woes alone which I alone Am bound to underbear.

About this piece

Constance expresses her deep frustration and anger towards the betrayal of her son’s potential by the corrupting influences of power and fortune, particularly focusing on King John's actions.

20s · anger · betrayal · power · identity · family

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