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  2. Monologue for Women
  3. Dramatic Monologue for Women
  4. RIchard II
  • A Monologue from the play "RIchard II" by William Shakespeare
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Character Duchess
Gender Female
Age Range(s) Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50)
Type of monologue / Character is Persuasive, Descriptive, Lamenting, Reminiscing life story/Telling a story
Type Dramatic
Period Renaissance
Genre Historical, Drama
Description The Duchess urges John of Gaunt to revenge his brother's death
Location ACT I, Scene 2

Summary

The play is about the fall from power and death of Richard II and the rise of the first king of the house of Lancaster, Henry Bolingbroke, who will become Henry IV.
In the first scene we find Richard II acting as a judge for a dispute between Henry Bolingbroke, the king's cousin and son of John of Gaunt, and Thomas Mowbray, the Duke of Norfolk. Henry Bolingbroke accuses Thomas Mowbray of having killed the Duke of Gloucester, of being a traitor and conspiring against the king. Eventually they decide to fight in a duel.

In the second scene of the play the Duchess of Gloucester, the widow of the murdered Duke who was John Gaunt's brother, visits John Gaunt and asks him to seek revenge for his brother's death. John of Gaunt refuses to seek revenge and tells her that God will punish the perpetrators. In this monologue, in ACT I, Scene 2, she expresses her grief for her husband's death and urges him to seek revenge for the love of his brother and also to safeguard his own life.

Written by Administrator

Excerpt
DUCHESS
Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,
One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt,
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb,
That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee
Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest,
Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we intitle patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.

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