Lady Monologue from The Scornful Lady

From The Scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont

female · anguished · 47 sec

All we that are called Women, know as well as men, it were a far more noble thing to grace where we are grace't, and give respect there where we are respected: yet we practise a wilder course, and never bend our eyes on men with pleasure, till they find the way to give us a neglect: then we, too late, perceive the loss of what we might have had, and dote to death. (Enter.) Martha. (Mar: Sister, yonder's your Servant, with a Gentlewoman with him.) Where? (Mar: Close at the door.) Alas I am undone, I fear he is be (t) roth'd, What kind of woman is she?

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