Monologue

Sejanus Monologue from Sejanus His Fall

From Sejanus His Fall by Ben Jonson

male · defiant · 1:30 min

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Be thou dumb, scrupulous priest: And gather up thyself, with these thy wares Which I, in spite of thy blind mistress, or Thy juggling mystery, religion, throw Thus scorned on the earth. (Overturns the statue and the altar.) Nay, hold thy look Averted till I woo thee turn again And thou shalt stand to all posterity, The eternal game and laughter, with thy neck Writh’d to thy tail, like a ridiculous cat. Avoid these fumes, these superstitious lights, And all these cozening ceremonies: you, Your pure and spiced conscience! (Exeunt all but Sejanus, Terentius, Satrius and Natta.) I, the slave And mock of fools, scorn on my worthy head! That have been titled and adored a god, Yea, sacrificed unto, myself, in Rome, No less than Jove: and I be brought to do A peevish giglot, rites! perhaps the thought And shame of that, made fortune turn her face, Knowing herself the lesser deity, And but my servant.-Bashful queen, if so, Sejanus thanks thy modesty.—Who’s that? Enter Pomponius and Minutius.

About this piece

Sejanus expresses his disdain for religious rituals and the mockery of his former status, revealing his inner turmoil and frustration with the power dynamics at play.

30s · anger · power · identity · betrayal · mockery

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