Woe's me, and will you turn my tears to thorns? Nay, set your eyes a little in my face; See, do I weep? what will you make of me? Will you not swear I love this prisoner? Ye are wise, and ye will have it; yet for me I wist not of it. We are but feeble fools, And love may catch us when we lie asleep And yet God knows we know not this a whit. Come, look on me, swear you believe it not: It may be I will take your word for that. (DARNLEY: Do you not love him? nay, but verily?) Now then, make answer to me verily, Which of us twain is wiser? for my part I will not swear I love not, if you will; Ye be wise men and many men, my lords, And ye will have me love him, ye will swear That I do love him; who shall say ye lie? Look on your paper; maybe I have wept: Doubtless I love your hanged man in my heart. What, is the writing smutched or gone awry? Or blurred-ay, surely so much-with one tear, One little sharp tear strayed on it by chance? Come, come, the man is deadly dangerous; Let him die presently.

Queen Monologue from Chastelard, a Tragedy

Rehearse Queen's monologue