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  1. Home
  2. Monologue for Men
  3. Dramatic Monologue for Men
  4. A Woman Killed With Kindness
  • A Monologue from the play "A Woman Killed With Kindness" by Thomas Heywood
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CharacterWendoll
GenderMale
Age Range(s)Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50)
Type of monologue / Character isCrying, Depressed, Lamenting
TypeDramatic
Period17th Century
GenreTragedy, Drama
DescriptionWendoll regrets having seduced Anne Frankford
DetailsACT 5 Scene 3

Summary

The play is a "domestic tragedy" and has two main storylines. The main story line is about a married couple, Master John Frankford and his wife Anne Frankford. John Frankford is described as a kind gentleman and Anne as a beautiful and graceful woman. Wendoll is a gentleman who has lost his fortune and Master Frankford is helping out by letting him stay in his house. Wendoll is very attracted to Anne and the two have an affair.

Eventually John Frankford finds out about his wife's infidelity and forces her to leave his house and go to live in one of his manors far away from him. To repent she starves herself to death. After she dies her husband forgives her believing that the fact that she killed herself proves that she was really sorry for having cheated on him.

This monologue is in ACT V, Scene 3. Anne has just been banished from her husband's house and is leaving. She laments what she has done to her servants. A servant arrives and gives Anne the last object that her husband could find that belonged to her, a lute.

Observing the scene, Wendoll feels sorry for her. He is ashamed and regrets having seduced his friend's wife.

Written by Administrator

Excerpt
WENDOLL: Pursued with horror of a guilty soul,
And with the sharp scourge of repentance lashed,
I fly from mine own shadow. O my stars!
What have my parents in their lives deserved,
That you should lay this penance on their son?
When I but think of Master Frankford's love,
And lay it to my treason, or compare
My murthering him for his relieving me,
It strikes a terror like a lightning's flash,
To scorch my blood up. Thus I, like the owl,
Ashamed of day, live in these shadowy woods,
Afraid of every leaf or murmuring blast.
Yet longing to receive some perfect knowledge
How he hath dealt with her. [Seeing MISTRESS
FRANKFORD.] O my sad fate!
Here, and so far from home, and thus attended!
O God! I have divorced the truest turtles
That ever lived together, and, being divided,
In several places make their several moan;
She in the field laments, and he at home.
So poets write that Orpheus made the trees
And stones to dance to his melodious harp,
Meaning the rustic and the barbarous hinds,
That had no understanding part in them;
So she from these rude carters tears extracts,
Making their flinty hearts with grief to rise,
And draw down rivers from their rocky eyes.

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