Shakespeare's Monologues
馃寵
|
Merry Wives of Windsor
·II ii 9 ·
Prose
Falstaff Reason, you rogue, reason: thinkest thou I'll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you. Go. A short knife and a throng! To your manor of Pickt-hatch! Go. You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! you stand upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honour precise: I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you! 
|
|
The texts of Shakespeare's plays is public domain.
This site is licensed under a Creative Commons License. 
© 1997 Steven Shults & Brandon Faloona Contact linked sites regarding their copyrights. |
