Queen Katherine Monologue from Henry VIII

From Henry VIII by William Shakespeare

female · melancholic · 50 sec

Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles. Sing, and disperse ’em, if thou canst. Leave working. WOMAN Orpheus with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing. To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep or, hearing, die. Enter a Gentleman.

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