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The Philanderer (Julia)

Julia says

Is it, indeed, too bad? What are you doing up here with that woman? You scoundrel! But now listen to me; Leonard: you have driven me to desperation; and I don’t care what I do, or who hears me. I’ll not bear it. She shall not have my place with you – No, no: I don’t care: I will expose her true character before everybody. You belong to me: you have no right to be here; and she knows it. I will not. I am not going home: I am going to stay here -here -until I have made you give her up. Let her do it then. Let her ring the bell if she dares. Let us see how this pure virtuous creature will face the scandal of what I will declare about her. Let us see how you will face it. I have nothing to lose. Everybody knows how you have treated me: you have boasted of your conquests, you poor pitiful, vain creature -I am the common talk of your acquaintances and hers. Oh, I have calculated my advantage. I am a most unhappy and injured woman; but I am not the fool you take me to be. I am going to stay -see! Now, Mrs. Tranfield: there is the bell: why don’t you ring? Ha! ha! I thought so.

The People (The Woman)

The Woman says

A plain, dark trees off at the edge, against the trees a little house and a big barn. A flat piece of land fenced in. Stubble, furrows. Horses waiting to get in at barn; cows standing around a pump. A tile yard, a water tank, one straight street of a little town. The country so still it seemed dead. The trees like–hopes that have been given up. The grave yards–on hills–they come so fast. I noticed them first because of my tombstone, but I got to thinking about the people–the people who spent their whole lives right near the places where they are now. There’s something in the thought of them–like the cows standing around the pump. So still, so patient, it–kind of hurts. And their pleasures: –a flat field fenced in. Your great words carried me to other great words. I thought of Lincoln, and what he said of a few of the dead. I said it over and over. I said things and didn’t know the meaning of them ’till after I had said them. I said–“The truth–the truth–the truth that opens from our lives as water opens from the rocks.” Then I knew what that truth was. “Let us here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.” I mean–all of them. Let life become what it may become! –so beautiful that everything that is back of us is worth everything it cost.

The Open Door (Lady Torminster)

Lady Torminster says

If we women had had a hand in the making of the language, how many words there would be to express our feelings towards the men we are fond of! Of course I love Jack. I’m cruel to him sometimes; and there comes a look into his eyes–he has dog’s eyes, you know–a faithful Newfoundland–I am certain that men don’t realise what marriage means to a woman! Dear funeral, am I not a good wife–shall I not remain a good wife, till the end of the chapter? Because there isn’t only Jack–there are Jack’s children. And isn’t it wonderful, when you think of it–here are we two, Jack’s friend and his wife, alone on a desert island–and we have confessed our love for each other, and we are able to discuss it as calmly as though it were rheumatism!

The Merchant of Venice (Portia)

Portia says

Away, then! I am lock’d in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
And what is music then? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay
I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.

Sweet and Twenty (She)

She says

Have you heard the story of the people who used to live here?

The agent was telling us. It’s quite romantic–and rather sad.

You see, the man that built this house was in love with a girl. He was building it for her–as a surprise. But he had neglected to mention to her that he was in love with her. And so, in pique, she married another man, though she was really in love with him. The news came just when he had finished the house.

He shut it up for a year or two, but eventually married some one else, and they lived I here for ten years–most unhappily. Then they went abroad, and the house was sold. It was bought, curiously enough, the husband of the girl he had been in love with.

They lived here till they died-hating each other to the end, the agent says.

St. Valentine’s Day (Elinor)

Elinor says

I feel utterly dazed.

The only idea that I seem to have saved from the general wreck is that there is an extreme likelihood of Richard sending me a comic valentine! And that’s something I had never thought of. What in the world does he send one to Letty for? Something she said suggested it probably.

Yet why do I refuse to put her own construction on it, — that he likes her! Why should he not? come, now — why should he not? She is pretty enough — in a way — fresh, naïve — just the sort of thing to fascinate a somewhat blasé man like Dick Morrison.

What do men care for crudities of manner or speech, if a girl strikes them pleasantly?

And how should he know that her grand passion is coconut cake?

I have been told that he would tire sometime of fruitlessly playing the lover with me. He has not said a direct word of love to me since Letty came! not a word!

He certainly did talk with her a long time the other day. And to promise to go to a social in Walkerville! That is equivalent to a threat of blowing his brains out from a more emotional character.

Well, I ought to be glad.

I think perhaps I am glad.

I’m not in love with Richard Morrison. I said that half an hour ago — and I’ve said it any number of times before — and he only takes me at my word.

And yet — and yet — Letty! That child! How utterly absurd!

Men have no right to abuse their privilege of being absurd! I do not know what to think. I will let the valentine episode decide the matter! He can’t be going to send the same one to both of us. When we have conned our respective valentines we may understand each other better.

St. Valentine’s Day (Letty)

Letty says

Say, Aunt Elinor, I’ve been reading an awfully interesting book.

Oh, I’ve forgotten the name of it, but it is awfully interesting. It’s all about broken engagements and misunderstandings, and they go to the most elegant ball, and he sends her the loveliest flowers out of his own greenhouse, you know.

I’ve forgotten what kind of flowers it is, but it is some particular kind, you know, that means something. It’s a sort of queer name. I wish I could think of it, so if anybody ever sent me any I’d know what it was.

It was in England, you know, at a manor house. I wish I could think of it. It isn’t ylang ylang, you know, but–anyway, it’s just as good.

I’ve forgotten what it meant anyway, so I guess I wouldn’t know. Well, he sends them to her, you know, and she doesn’t wear them — oh! there’s somebody else in the house that’s in love with him too, and she interferes — I think she mixes up the flowers, or something — she’s an awfully mean old thing, and I should think he’d have seen through her in a minute, and known she — the other one — wanted to wear the flowers — I would, I know, wouldn’t you, Aunt Elinor? Well, it makes an awful lot of trouble anyway, and he quarrels with her, the nice one, you know, and goes off with the other. She has the most perfectly lovely dress at the ball — all kind of weird and serpent-like and glittering, you know, and oh! I was dreadfully afraid he was going to propose to her — wouldn’t it have been perfectly awful if he had, Aunt Elinor?

Snow (From Five Short Plays) (Sara)

Sara says

I’ve been careful, always very careful. Sure there are people who leave the house more than I do.

They take strolls, they cross streets in the midst of traffic. They get on airplanes and fly halfway across the world. And I say good for them. If they want to risk their lives daily, let em. But don’t ask me to. I’m fine how I am. It is true I have not left my apartment in three years. Everyone delivers in New York. Everyone. My mother says I would meet more people if I left my apartment … but I have my college friends I still call and email and of course there is a large online community waiting to hear my every word. Anyway, people die when they take risks. I’ve seen it happen.

Spike Heels (Georgie)

GEORGIE: Yeah, right, he “gave” me the damn job. I f -ing work my a – off for that jerk; he doesn”t give me s -. I earn it, you know? He “gave” me the job. I just love that. What does that mean, that I should be working at McDonald”s or something, that”s what I really deserve or something? Bullshit. F – you, that is such f -ing bulls -. You think I don”t know how to behave in public or something?Jesus, I was a godd – waitress for seven years, the customers f -ing loved me. You think I talk like this in front of strangers; you think I don”t have a brain in my head or something? That is so f -ing condescending. Anytime I lose my temper, I”m crazy, is that it? You don”t know why I threw that pencil, you just assume. You just make these assumptions. Well, f – you, Andrew. I mean it. F – you.I mean, I just love that. You don”t even know. You”ve never seen me in that office. You think I”m like, incapable of acting like somebody I”m not? For four months I”ve been scared to death but I do it, you know. I take messages, I call the court, I write his damn letters. I watch my mouth, I dress like this – whatever this is; these are the ugliest clothes I have ever seen – I am gracious, I am bright, I am promising. I am being this other person for them because I do want this job but there is a point beyond which I will not be f -d with! So you finally push me beyond that point, and I throw the pencil and now you”re going to tell me that that is my problem? What, do you guys think you hold all the cards or something? You think you have the last word on reality? You do, you think that anything you do to me is okay, and anything I do is f -d because I”m not using the right words. I”m, like, throwing pencils and saying f – you, I”m speaking another language, that”s my problem. And the thing is – I am America. You know? You guys are not America. You think you are; Jesus Christ, you guys think you own the world. I mean, who made up these rules, Andrew? And do you actually think we”re buying it?More Monologues from “Spike Heels”More Monologues from Theresa Rebeck

Jesus, I was a godd – waitress for seven years, the customers f -ing loved me. You think I talk like this in front of strangers; you think I don”t have a brain in my head or something? That is so f -ing condescending. Anytime I lose my temper, I”m crazy, is that it? You don”t know why I threw that pencil, you just assume. You just make these assumptions. Well, f – you, Andrew. I mean it. F – you.I mean, I just love that. You don”t even know. You”ve never seen me in that office. You think I”m like, incapable of acting like somebody I”m not? For four months I”ve been scared to death but I do it, you know. I take messages, I call the court, I write his damn letters. I watch my mouth, I dress like this – whatever this is; these are the ugliest clothes I have ever seen – I am gracious, I am bright, I am promising. I am being this other person for them because I do want this job but there is a point beyond which I will not be f -d with! So you finally push me beyond that point, and I throw the pencil and now you”re going to tell me that that is my problem? What, do you guys think you hold all the cards or something? You think you have the last word on reality? You do, you think that anything you do to me is okay, and anything I do is f -d because I”m not using the right words. I”m, like, throwing pencils and saying f – you, I”m speaking another language, that”s my problem. And the thing is – I am America. You know? You guys are not America. You think you are; Jesus Christ, you guys think you own the world. I mean, who made up these rules, Andrew? And do you actually think we”re buying it?More Monologues from “Spike Heels”More Monologues from Theresa Rebeck

I mean, I just love that. You don”t even know. You”ve never seen me in that office. You think I”m like, incapable of acting like somebody I”m not? For four months I”ve been scared to death but I do it, you know. I take messages, I call the court, I write his damn letters. I watch my mouth, I dress like this – whatever this is; these are the ugliest clothes I have ever seen – I am gracious, I am bright, I am promising. I am being this other person for them because I do want this job but there is a point beyond which I will not be f -d with! So you finally push me beyond that point, and I throw the pencil and now you”re going to tell me that that is my problem? What, do you guys think you hold all the cards or something? You think you have the last word on reality? You do, you think that anything you do to me is okay, and anything I do is f -d because I”m not using the right words. I”m, like, throwing pencils and saying f – you, I”m speaking another language, that”s my problem. And the thing is – I am America. You know? You guys are not America. You think you are; Jesus Christ, you guys think you own the world. I mean, who made up these rules, Andrew? And do you actually think we”re buying it?More Monologues from “Spike Heels”More Monologues from Theresa Rebeck

Romeo and Juliet (Friar Laurence)

Friar Laurence says

Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou hast amazed me: my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper’d.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail’st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
Which, like a usurer, abound’st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man;
Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow’d to cherish;
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skitless soldier’s flask,
Is set afire thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember’d with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew’st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
The law that threaten’d death becomes thy friend
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou pout’st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went’st forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.