Shakespeare Monologues - Central
Act 3, Scene 3
ROMEO
'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honorable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
But Romeo may not. He is banishèd.
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.
They are free men, but I am banishèd.
And sayst thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But “banishèd” to kill me?—“Banishèd”!
O Friar, the damnèd use that word in hell.
Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,
To mangle me with that word “banishèd”?
Meaning;
It’s torture, not mercy. Heaven is here because Juliet lives here. Every cat
and dog and little mouse, every unworthy animal that lives here can see
her, but Romeo can’t. Flies are healthier and more honorable and better
suited for romance than Romeo. They can take hold of Juliet’s wonderful
white hand and they can kiss her sweet lips. Even while she remains a
pure virgin, she blushes when her lips touch each other because she
thinks it’s a sin. But Romeo can’t kiss her or hold her hand because he’s
been banished. Flies can kiss her, but I must flee the city. Flies are like
free men, but I have been banished. And yet you say that exile is not
death? Did you have no poison, no sharp knife, no weapon you could use
to kill me quickly, nothing so disgraceful, except banishment? Oh Friar,
damned souls use the word banishment to describe hell. They howl about
banishment. If you’re a member of a divine spiritual order of men who
forgive sins, and you say you’re my friend, how do you have the heart to
mangle me with the word banishment?
Act 2, Scene 3
EDGAR
I heard myself proclaimed,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt. No port is free, no place
That guard and most unusual vigilance
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may ’scape,
I will preserve myself, and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury in contempt of man
Brought near to beast. My face I’ll grime with filth,
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices
Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary,
And with this horrible object from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. “Poor Turlygod!” “Poor Tom!”—
That’s something yet. Edgar I nothing am.
Meaning;
I heard myself declared an outlaw and escaped capture by hiding in the
trunk of a hollow tree. Every town and port is crawling with henchmen
on the lookout, waiting to capture me. But I’ll survive while I can. I’ve
decided to disguise myself as the lowliest and rattiest beggar that
mankind has ever seen. I’ll smear my face with filth, put on a loincloth,
make my hair matted and tangled, and face the bad weather wearing
almost nothing. I’ve seen beggars out of insane asylums who stick pins
and nails into their numb arms. They pray or roar lunatic curses,
horrifying farmers and villagers into giving them alms. “Poor crazy
Tom!” they call themselves. Well, at least that’s something. As Edgar,
I’m nothing at all.
