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    Of His Own Arm) Give Me Back My Money, Wretch - . - . Ah! - . - . It Is Myself - . - . My Mind Is

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    Christopher Browne Valenzuela
    1) Harpagon discovers that his money has been stolen and flies into a panic, accusing everyone around him of being thieves and demanding justice. 2) He grabs his own arm, thinking it belongs to the thief, before realizing it is himself. 3) Overcome with grief for the loss of his "dearest friend" and primary source of security, he declares that without his money he has no reason to live.

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    Of His Own Arm) Give Me Back My Money, Wretch - . - . Ah! - . - . It Is Myself - . - . My Mind Is

    Uploaded by

    Christopher Browne Valenzuela
    810 views1 page
    1) Harpagon discovers that his money has been stolen and flies into a panic, accusing everyone around him of being thieves and demanding justice. 2) He grabs his own arm, thinking it belongs to the thief, before realizing it is himself. 3) Overcome with grief for the loss of his "dearest friend" and primary source of security, he declares that without his money he has no reason to live.

    Original Description:

    Two comedic monologues ideal for auditions.

    Original Title

    Comedic Monologues

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    © © All Rights Reserved

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    1) Harpagon discovers that his money has been stolen and flies into a panic, accusing everyone around him of being thieves and demanding justice. 2) He grabs his own arm, thinking it belongs to the thief, before realizing it is himself. 3) Overcome with grief for the loss of his "dearest friend" and primary source of security, he declares that without his money he has no reason to live.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    810 views1 page

    Of His Own Arm) Give Me Back My Money, Wretch - . - . Ah! - . - . It Is Myself - . - . My Mind Is

    Uploaded by

    Christopher Browne Valenzuela
    1) Harpagon discovers that his money has been stolen and flies into a panic, accusing everyone around him of being thieves and demanding justice. 2) He grabs his own arm, thinking it belongs to the thief, before realizing it is himself. 3) Overcome with grief for the loss of his "dearest friend" and primary source of security, he declares that without his money he has no reason to live.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 1

    HARPAGON: Thieves! Thieves! Assassins! Murder! Justice, just heavens!

    I am undone; I am
    murdered; they have cut my throat; they have stolen my money! Who can it be? What has
    become of him? Where is he? Where is he hiding himself? What shall I do to find him? Where
    shall I run? Where shall I not run? Is he not here? Who is this? Stop! [To himself, taking hold
    of his own arm] Give me back my money, wretch . . . . Ah! . . . . it is myself . . . . My mind is
    wandering, and I know not where I am, who I am, and what I am doing. Alas! my poor money!
    my poor money! my dearest friend, they have bereaved me of thee; and since thou art gone, I
    have lost my support, my consolation, and my joy. All is ended for me, and I have nothing more
    to do in the world! Without thee it is impossible for me to live. I can bear it no longer. I am
    dying; I am dead; I am buried. Is there nobody who will call me from the dead, by restoring my
    dear money to me? They all look at me and laugh. We shall see that they all have a share in the
    robbery. Quick! Magistrates, police, provosts, judges, racks, gibbets, and executioners. I will
    hang everybody, and if I do not find my money, I will hang myself afterwards.

    Okay. Now here it comes. The moment I was talking about [...] a moment that has fascinated
    me more than any other and that has brought me back to this record again and again. Here it
    comes. (Pause). You cant quite make out what she says because someone drops a cane. Is she
    saying live while you can, or leave while you can? And thats exactly what you think when
    youre standing at the altar, isnt it, Live or Leave and you have to live. [... ... ...] So, one day
    [...] you say I love you and you basically phrase it as a question, but they accept it as fact and
    then suddenly there she is standing in front of you in a three thousand dollar dress with tears in
    her eyes, and her nephew made the huppah, so what do you do? [...] You choose to live. And for
    a couple of months you stare at the alien form in the bed beside you and you think to yourself
    Who are you? Who are you? And one day you say it out loudthen its a trial separation and
    couples counselling and all your conversations are about her eating disorder and your Zoloft
    addiction, [...] and the whole relationship ends on a particularly ugly note with your only copy
    of Gypsy spinning through the air and smashing against the living room wall. But still, in the
    larger sense, in a broader sense, its better to have lived than left, right?

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