Monologue

Princess Monologue from Love's Labour's Lost

From Love's Labour's Lost by William Shakespeare

female · defiant · 1:45 min

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Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise. Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, Not uttered by base sale of chapmen’s tongues. I am less proud to hear you tell my worth Than you much willing to be counted wise In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, You are not ignorant, all-telling fame Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow, Till painful study shall outwear three years, No woman may approach his silent court. Therefore to’s seemeth it a needful course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, Bold of your worthiness, we single you As our best-moving fair solicitor. Tell him the daughter of the King of France, On serious business craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace. Haste, signify so much, while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will. (BOYET: Proud of employment, willingly I go.) All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. (Exit Boyet.) Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous Duke? (LORD: Lord Longaville is one.) Know you the man?

About this piece

20s · determination · love · power · identity · ambition

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