Monologue

Urs Monologue from Bartholomew Fair

From Bartholomew Fair by Ben Jonson

male · anguished · 37 sec

No, no, I shall e'en dwindle away to't, ere the Fair be done, you think, now you have heated me: a poor vex'd thing I am, I feel myself dropping already as fast as I can; two stone o' suet a day is my proportion. I can but hold life and soul together, with this, and a whiff of tobacco at most. Where's my pipe now? not fill'd! thou arrant incubee.

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