Monologue

Viola Monologue from Twelfth Night

From Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

female · anguished · 1:50 min

Rehearse this freeFind more monologues
I left no ring with her; what means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her! She made good view of me, indeed, so much, That methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure, the cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none. I am the man; if it be so, as ’tis, Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper false In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, For such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, And I, poor monster, fond as much on him, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my master’s love; As I am woman (now alas the day!) What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! O time, thou must untangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t’untie! (Exit.)

About this piece

Viola grapples with her feelings of love and confusion as she navigates her disguise and the affections of both Olivia and her master, creating a complex emotional dilemma.

20s · confusion · love · identity · fate

Rehearse Viola's monologue

Run it out loud with a spotlight that follows your voice, line by line, until it's off the page. Free to start, no credit card.

Rehearse freeStart rehearsing

More from Twelfth Night

Every speech from Twelfth Night, printed in full

  • Dukephilosophical · 1:34 min
  • Violacontemplative · 1:03 min
  • Dukeinspirational · 1:23 min
  • Clownphilosophical · 1:41 min
  • Sebastianmelancholic · 2:08 min
  • Dukemelancholic · 1:29 min

Browse