O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen, Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative, Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights Allow’st no more blood than will make a blush, Which is their order’s robe, I here, thy priest, Am humbled ’fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe With that thy rare green eye, which never yet Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin; And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear, Which ne’er heard scurrile term, into whose port Ne’er entered wanton sound, to my petition, Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last Of vestal office. I am bride-habited But maiden-hearted. A husband I have ’pointed, But do not know him. Out of two I should Choose one, and pray for his success, but I Am guiltless of election. Of mine eyes, Were I to lose one, they are equal precious; I could doom neither; that which perished should Go to ’t unsentenced. Therefore, most modest queen, He of the two pretenders that best loves me And has the truest title in ’t, let him Take off my wheaten garland, or else grant The file and quality I hold I may Continue in thy band. See what our general of ebbs and flows Out from the bowels of her holy altar With sacred act advances: but one rose! If well inspired, this battle shall confound Both these brave knights, and I, a virgin flower, Must grow alone, unplucked. The flower is fall’n, the tree descends. O mistress, Thou here dischargest me. I shall be gathered; I think so, but I know not thine own will. Unclasp thy mystery!—I hope she’s pleased; Her signs were gracious.

Emilia Monologue from The Two Noble Kinsmen

Rehearse Emilia's monologue