Lieutenant Monologue from Henry VI

From Henry VI by William Shakespeare

male · dark · 1:01 min

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night, Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men’s graves and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore. Master, this prisoner freely give I thee, And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. 1 GENTLEMAN. What is my ransom, master? Let me know.

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