Monologue

Face Monologue from The Alchemist

From The Alchemist by Ben Jonson

male · anguished · 44 sec

O, sir, we are defeated! all the works Are flown in fumo, every glass is burst; Furnace, and all rent down, as if a bolt Of thunder had been driven through the house. Retorts, receivers, pelicans, bolt-heads, All struck in shivers! Help, good sir! alas, Coldness and death invades him. Nay, sir Mammon, Do the fair offices of a man! you stand, As you were readier to depart than he. Who's there? my lord her brother is come.

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