Goth monologue — Titus Andronicus

Let Rome herselfe be bane vnto herselfe, And shee whom mightie kingdomes cursie too, Like a forlorne and desperate castaway, Doe shamefull execution on her selfe. But if my frostie signes and chaps of age, Graue witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, Speake Romes deere friend, as er'st our Auncestor, When with his solemne tongue he did discourse To loue-sicke Didoes sad attending eare, The story of that balefull burning night, When subtil Greekes surpriz'd King Priams Troy: Tell vs what Sinon hath bewicht our eares, Or who hath brought the fatall engine in, That giues our Troy, our Rome the ciuill wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steele, Nor can I vtter all our bitter griefe, But floods of teares will drowne my Oratorie, And breake my very vttrance, euen in the time When it should moue you to attend me most, Lending your kind hand Commiseration. Heere is a Captaine, let him tell the tale, Your hearts will throb and weepe to heare him speake