Monologue

Duke Monologue from Twelfth Night

From Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

male · melancholic · 1:29 min

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O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love Like the old age. (CLOWN: Are you ready, sir?) Ay; prithee, sing. (Music.) The Clown’s song. Come away, come away, death. And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.

About this piece

The Duke reflects on the pain of unrequited love and the inevitability of death, expressing a deep sorrow through the lyrics of a song that encapsulates his feelings of loss and longing.

30s · sadness · death · love · longing · isolation

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