Monologue

La Monologue from The Scornful Lady

From The Scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont

any · anguished · 58 sec

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Then to land dumb, unable to enquire for an English hoast, to remove from City to City, by most chargeable Post-horse, like one that rode in quest of his Mother tongue. (El. Lo: You wrong me much.) And all these (almost invincible labours) performed for your Mistris, to be in danger to forsake her, and to put on new allegeance to some French Lady, who is content to change language with your laughter, and after your whole year spent in Tennis and broken speech, to stand to the hazard of being laught at, at your return, and have tales made on you by the Chamber-maids. (El. Lo: You wrong me much.) Louder yet.

About this piece

20s · longing · identity · love · betrayal · isolation

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