Lucius Monologue from Cymbeline

From Cymbeline by William Shakespeare

male · defiant · 1:15 min

Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten’d Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call’d ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom’d. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join With my request, which I’ll make bold your Highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm Though he have serv’d a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.

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