Monologue

Louis Monologue from King John

From King John by William Shakespeare

male · defiant · 35 sec

The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stay’d, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measure backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night, And wound our tott’ring colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Enter a Messenger.

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