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PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource

Monologues for Men

GRA.

Let me play the fool,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,

And let my liver rather heat with wine

Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Sit like his grandsire cut in alablaster?

Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundies

By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio—

I love thee, and ’tis my love that speaks—

There are a sort of men whose visages

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,

And do a willful stillness entertain,

With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,

As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle,

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!”

O my Antonio, I do know of these

That therefore only are reputed wise

For saying nothing; when I am very sure

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears

Which hearing them would call their brothers fools.

I’ll tell thee more of this another time;

But fish not with this melancholy bait

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.

Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well a while,

I’ll end my exhortation after dinner.

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