In April I was invited by early-modern expert (and my former lecturer) Michael Cordner to join his passion-project, Shakespeare's Rivals. We read monologues by playwrights who were active at the same time as William Shakespeare (but who are less well known.) These include Christopher Marlowe, Ben Jonson, Philip Massinger... I never used to be a fan of this writing style, but that was probably because I couldn't understand or appreciate it. I am beginning to. And as I have been learning the tricks of the trade, I decided to write my own monologue in the same verse style.
Here is the resulting Early Modern Verse Monologue written by me (Dylan Day):
If any man know not why I should speak,
Come forth from the shadow, the cold crevasse
Of your hiding, where dark blessings throw spores
To startle a plague, and cultivate growths,
Each one a new wicked tone to be cried,
Of mistruths, of plots, of knives in the back,
And which swell still in the darkness, for you
Who detest the fact, and beg silence
To apprehend my tongue, then strike me down –
For I shall not, by any means of threat,
Entertain your whims, lest, brave, you face me,
And shut off my words with your blackest strength.
Then challenge me! But still the lesson will
Be heard: prince’s a fiend and shan’t marry
His betrothed, yet flee the island – for shame!
Another he courts, against his father,
And they shall ally, nay to relieve us
Of whom ought to be in our alliance,
Nor to free us of war, but to start one.
They will knot as paupers, lay’en the cottage,
Frolic in the sand, swaddle their new babes,
And forget the troubles of their treach’ry –
Is such their dream; our nightmare; our demise.
We must intercept his ship, and capture
Our noble son from his deed. Make haste, ho!
Here knights, I warrant his father not told,
Meantime we shall find him, for our lord’s wrath,
Fiery to burn one-hundred hunted ships,
Or whip our souls from our flesh, and string us,
Or roll our heads from atop a great mound,
Or still, shame our families with our stain,
Will surely hinder us in our rescue,
And will much suffice to punish the boy
Upon our return. We shall avoid him.
Yet, e’en this threat, and my call for challenge,
I speaketh a traitor amidst our rank:
One who helped the son elope, and who seeks,
As clear to me as armour so polished,
To ruin our blood, and make vulnerable
Our home. If, nay when, this creature is caught,
We shall prosecute him to the lord’s rage;
Ourselves show’ed with rewards gold and ruby,
Our souls elevated, our flesh revered,
Our heads crowned, and our names etched in history.
So, seek to wring your neighbour for the truth –
‘Less the traitor should come from the shadows,
Confess, or win back their honour duelling.
I give ten counts. You will not show, now.
I sentence your conspiring to death.
Hope as a villain that your villainy
Is left undisturbed, for if this mission
Where to be misled by a saboteur,
Then the oncoming war would not cease here:
It would consume where the noble son flees,
Where, I suspect, you have been rewarded
A home, and perhaps have family hiding,
But they, and you, will not be safe from time
And tide. So, think hard before your back turns
On us, for returning safe the lord’s son
Is our sole defence. You spread false whisp’rings
To champion love, you tell yourself, but coin
Is the disguised thought. Neither coin nor love
Can prevent our enemy. Brains must win.
Sense must win. You have shown to be senseless.
You have shown to be a monster, a fool,
A charlatan! and you will pay dearly.
Time hurries me as our boy slips away.
Gather the frigates, the men, and the swords –
We sail for a future guided by us.
Go my brothers! And find our cherished son!
My neck feels already my lord’s flame breath.
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