Guendolen monologue (Act 5) — Locrine: A Tragedy

Mine? Hear it, heaven,—and men, bear witness! Mine The treachery that hath rent our realm in twain— Mine, mine the adulterous treason. Not Locrine, Not he, found loyal to my love in vain, Hath brought the civic sword and fire of strife On British fields and homesteads, clothed with joy, Crowned with content and comfort: I, his wife, Have brought on Troynovant the fires of Troy. He lifts his head before the sun of heaven And swears it—lies, and lives. Is God’s bright sword Broken, wherewith the gates of Troy—the seven Strong gates that gods who built them held in ward— Were broken even as wattled reeds with fire? Son, by what name shall honour call thy sire?