Monologue

Valentine Monologue from Twelfth Night

From Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

male · melancholic · 35 sec

So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years’ heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But like a cloistress she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.

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