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Monologues for Men


Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage, blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!

You sulph’rous and thought-executing fires,

Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,

Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ th’ world!

Crack nature’s moulds, all germains spill at once

That makes ingrateful man!

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain!

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.

I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;

I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children;

You owe me no subscription. Then let fall

Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave,

A poor, infirm, weak, and despis’d old man;

But yet I call you servile ministers,

That will with two pernicious daughters join

Your high-engender’d battles ’gainst a head

So old and white as this. Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pudder o’er our heads,

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch

That hast within thee undivulged crimes

Unwhipt of justice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand;

Thou perjur’d, and thou simular of virtue

That art incestuous! Caitiff, to pieces shake,

That under covert and convenient seeming

Has practic’d on man’s life! Close pent-up guilts,

Rive your concealing continents, and cry

These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man

More sinn’d against than sinning.

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