Queen Monologue from Chastelard, a Tragedy

From Chastelard, a Tragedy by Algernon Charles Swinburne

female · anguished · 51 sec

What makes you gape so beastlike after blood? Were you not bred up on some hangman's hire And dicted with fleshmeats at his hand And fed into a fool? Give me that paper. (DARNLEY: Now for that word I will not.) Nay, sweet love, For your own sake be just a little wise; Come, I beseech you. (DARNLEY: Pluck not at my hands.) No, that I will not: I am brain-broken, mad; Pity my madness for sweet marriage-sake And my great love's; I love you to say this; I would not have you cross me, out of love. But for true love should I not chafe indeed? And now I do not.

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