Monologue

Silvius Monologue from As You Like It

From As You Like It by William Shakespeare

male · anguished · 35 sec

Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me, do not, Phoebe. Say that you love me not, but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart th’ accustomed sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? Enter Rosalind, Celia and Corin, at a distance.

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