Period Monologues

1600-1900
from Life Is a Dream (1635) (Pedro Calderon)
The young prince Segismundo has been imprisoned in a tower by his father who fears a soothsayers dire predictions about his sons future. Chained and clad in tattered rags, Segismundo lives the life of a caged animal. In his constant agony the young prince now yearns for his lost freedom and liberty.

Segismundo: Oh, wretch that I am! Oh, unfortunate! I try, of heavens, to understand, since you treat me so, what crime I committed against you when I was . . . but, since I was born, I understand my crime. Your cruel justice has had sufficient cause. For man's greatest crime is to have been born at all. Still, I should like to know, to ease my anxiety leaving aside, ye gods, the sin of being born in what way I could offend you any more, to deserve more punishment? Were not all other men born too? If so, why do they have blessings that I never enjoyed? The bird is born, with the gaudy plumage that gives it unrivaled beauty; and scarcely is it formed, like flower of feathers or a winged branch, when it swiftly cuts the vaulted air, refusing the calm shelter of its nest. But I, with more soul, have less liberty! The beast is born, too, with skin beautifully marked, like a cluster of starsthanks to Nature's skilled brush; then stern necessity, cruel and savage, teaches it to be cruel also, and it reigns a monster in its labyrinth. Yet I, with better instincts, have less liberty! The fish is born, unbreathing, a creature of spawn and seaweed, and scarcely is it seena scaly vessel in the waveswhen it darts in so many directions, measuring the vastness of the cold and the deep. And I, with more free will, I have less liberty! The stream is born, a snake uncoiling among the flowers, and scarcely does this serpent of silver break through the blossoms, when it celebrates their grace with music, and with music takes its passage through the majesty of the open plain. Yet I, who have more life, have less liberty! As I reach this pitch of anger, like a volcano, an Aetna, I could tear pieces of my heart from my own breast. What law, justice, or reason, can deny to man so sweet a privilege, so elementary a freedom, as God has given to a brook, a fish, a beast, and a bird?

from The Miser (1668) (Moliere)

The French comedy of manners delights in ridiculing trifle customs and human nature that is pretentious and hypocritical. In this monolog, Harpagon (the Miser) is enraged when he discovers that the secret, buried treasure he worships has been unearthed and that he is now penniless!

Harpagon: Stop thief! Stop thief! Stop assassin! Stop murderer! Justice! Divine justice! I am ruined! I've been murdered! He cut my throat! He stole my money! Who can it be? What's become of him? Where is he? Where is he hiding? What shall I do to find him? Where shall I run? Where shall I not run? Isn't that he there? Isn't this he here? Who's this? (Sees his own shadow and grabs his own arm.) Stop! Give me back my money, you rogue. Ah! It is myself! My mind is unhinged, and I don't know where I am, who I am, or what I am doing. (Falls to his knees.) Alas! My poor money, my poor money, my dear friend, they have taken you from me. And since they carried you off, I've lost my support, my consolation, my joy. Everything is at an end for me; I have no more to do in this world! I cannot live without you! It's finished. I can do no more. (Lies down.) I am dying. I am dead. I am buried! Isn't there anybody who would like to bring me back to life by returning my dear money or by telling me who took it? (Rising to his knees) What did you say? It was nobody. (Stands.) Whoever did the job must have watched very closely for his chance; for he chose exactly the time when I was talking to my treacherous son. (Takes his hat and cane.) I'll go and demand justice. I'll order them to torture everyone in my house for a confession: the maids, the valets, my son, my own daughter and myself too! What a crowd of people! Everybody I cast my eyes on arouses my suspicion, and everything seems to be the thief. Eh! What are you talking about there? About the man that robbed me? Why are you making that noise up there? Is my thief there? (Kneels and addresses the audience.) Please, if anyone has any information about my thief, I beg you to tell me. Are you sure he isn't hidden there among you? They all look at me and laugh. (Stands.) You will probably sec that they all had a part in this robbery. Here, quick, commissaries, archers, provosts, judges, tortures, scaffolds, and executioners! I want to have everybody hanged! And if I don't recover my money, I'll hang myself afterward!

from The Way of the World (1700) (William Cosgrove)

The role of courting in comedy of manners was an elaborate ritual of properly artificial, bright, and vivacious conversation. There was also an opportunity for frivolous reflection that mirrored the manners and mores of the upper classes. Here, Mirabell, a dashing gallant, and Mrs. Millamant, the object ofhis current affection, share their views on the prospect of their marriage.

Mrs. Millamant: There is not so impudent a thing in nature as the saucy look of an assured man, confident of success. Ah, I'll never marry, unless I am first made sure of my will and pleasure. I'll lie abed in a morning as long as I please. I won't be called names after I'm married. Aye, as wife, spouse, my dear, joy, love, sweetheart, and the rest of the nauseous cant in which men and their wives are so fulsomely familiar. I should also require liberty to pay and receive visits to and from whom I please; to write and receive letters without any interrogatories or wry faces; to wear what I please; and choose conversations with regard only to my own taste. And to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits that I don't like, because they are of some acquaintance. or to be intimate with fools, because they are relations. I shall come to dinner when I please; dine in my dressing gown when I'm out of humor, without giving a reason. To have my closet inviolate; to be sole empress of my tea-table, which no one should pressure to approach without first asking leave. And lastly, wherever I am one shall always knock at the door before entering. These many articles subscribed to, I may in time and by degrees dwindle into a prospective wife.

Mirabell: J covenant that your acquaintances be general; that you admit no sworn confidant, or intimate of your own sex. No she-friend to screen her affairs under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a mutual secrecy. No decoy-duck to wheedle you a fop scrambling to the play in a maskthen bring you home in a pretended fright, when you think you shall be found outand rail me for missing the play. Item 1 article, that you continue to like your own face, as long as I shall; and while it passes current with me, that you endeavor not to re-coin it. To which end, together with all vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the night, made of oil-skins and I know not whathogs bones, hare's gall, pig water, and the marrow of roasted cat. I denounce against all strait lacing, squeezing for a shape, till you mold my boy's head like a sugar-loaf. Lastly, to the domination of the tea-table I submit but with proviso, that you exceed not in your province; but restrain yourself to native and simple tea-table drinks, as tea, chocolate, and coffee. As likewise to genuine and authorized tea-table talksuch as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forth. But that on no account you encroach upon the men's prerogative; and presume to drink healths, or toast fellows. These provisoes admitted, in other things as well I may prove a tractable and complying husband.

from The Rivals (1775) (Richard Brinsley Sheridan)

The "high comedy" of the eighteenth century gave color and authenticity to social commentary that instructed one in customs and manners of the day The dialogue was often witty and inspirational; an ingenious arrangement of words that produces merriment and biting satire. In this monologue, Mrs. Malapropwho has a problem with the ridiculous misuse of words, especially through confusion caused by resemblance in sound--lectures Sir Anthony on her understanding of a young girls proper education.

Mrs. Malaprop: Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning. I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman; for instanceI would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or Algebra, or Simony, or Fluxions, or Paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning. Neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, or diabolical instruments. But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding school in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, Sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts. And as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry that she might know something of the contagious countries. But above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy; that she might not misspell and mispronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do. And likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman knowand I don't think there is a superstitious article in it!

from The Contrast (1787) (Royall Tyler)

In this early American comedy of manners, the pretentious Dimple has just returned from Europe loaded down with the latest affectation and fashion, a scorn of all things American, and a considerable bill of debt. He also intends to cancel his marriage contract with the affable Maria to marry' a wealthy woman. Although Maria does not yet know of Dimples intentions, she has her own doubts about the impending marriage.

Maria: How deplorable is my situation! How distressing for a daughter to find her heart militating with her filial duty! I know my father loves me tenderly. Why then do I very reluctantly obey him? Heaven knows! With what reluctance I should oppose the will of a parent, or set an example of filial disobedience. At a parent's command I could wed awkwardness and deformity. Were the heart of my husband good, I would so magnify his good qualities with the eye of conjugal affection, that the defects of his person and manners should be lost in the emanation of his virtues. At a father's command, I could embrace poverty. Were the poor man my husband, I would learn resignation to my lot. I would enliven our frugal meal with good humor, and chase away misfortune from our cottage with a smile. At a father's command, I could almost submit to what every female heart knows to be the most mortifyingto marry a weak man, and blush at my husband's folly in every company I visited. But to marry a depraved wretch, whose only virtue is a polished exterior; who is actuated by the unmanly ambition of conquering the defenseless; whose heart, insensible to the emotions of patriotism, dilates at the plaudits of every unthinking girl; and whose laurels are the sighs and tears of the miserable victims of his specious behavior! Can he, who has no regard for the peace and happiness of other families, ever have a due regard for the peace and happiness of his own? Would to heaven that my father were not so hasty in his temper! Surely, if I were to state my reasons for declining this match, he would not compel me to marry such a man whom, though my lips may solemnly promise to honor, I find my heart must ever despise.

from Miss Julie (1888) (August Strindberg)

There is an intense, erotic struggle taking place between the fragile but frustrated Miss Julie and her rugged, sensual servant Jean. Following a festive Midsummers Night town celebration, the privileged Miss Julie and the brutal Jean play out their roles of servant and master to reveal their own deeply troubled and psychologically flawed interiors.

Jean: You lackey lover! You bootblack's tramp! Shut your mouth and get out of here! Who do you think you are telling me I'm coarse? I've never seen anybody of my class behave as crudely as you did tonight. Have you ever seen any of the girls around here grab a man like you did? Do you think any of the girls of my class would throw themselves at a man like that? I've never seen the like of it except in animals and prostitutes. I never hit a person who's down, especially a woman. I can't deny that, in one way, it was good to find that what I find glittering up above was only fool's gold; to see that the eagle's back was as gray as its belly; that the smooth cheek was just powder, and that there could be dirt under the manicured nails; that the handkerchief was soiled even though it smelled of perfume. But, in another way, it hurts to find that everything I was striving for wasn't very high above me after all; wasn't even real. It hurts me to see you sink far lower than your own cook. Hurts, like seeing the last flowers cut to pieces by the autumn rains and turned to muck. I'm sorry I said that. I'd be doing myself an injustice if I didn't admit that part of the credit for this seduction belongs to me. But do you think a person in my position would have dared to look twice at you if you hadn't asked for it? I'm still amazedbut it's no crime for a child to steal a few ripe cherries when they're falling off the tree, is it?

Miss Julie: Kill me! You can kill an innocent creature without turning a hairthen kill me. Oh, how I hate you! I loathe you! There's blood between us. I curse the moment I first laid eyes on you! I curse the moment I was conceived in my mother's womb. You don't think I can stand the sight of blood, do you? You think I'm so weak, don't you? Oh, how I'd like to see your blood, your brains on that chopping block. I'd love to see the whole of your sex swimming in a sea of blood. I could drink blood out of your skull. Use your chest as a foot bath, dip my toes in your guts! I could eat your heart roasted whole! You think I'm weak? You think I want to carry your blood under my heart and feed it with my blood? Bear your child and take your name? Come to think of it, what is your name? I've never even heard your last name. I'll bet you don't even have one. I'd be Mrs. Doorman or Madame Garbageman. You dog with my name on your collaryou lackey with my initials on your buttons! Do you think I'm going to share you with my cook and fight over you with my maid? No! I'm going to stay. My father will come homefind his desk broken into his money gone. He'll ringtwo rings for the valet. And then he'll send for the sheriff and I'll tell him everything! He'll have a stroke and die . . . and there'll be an end to all of us. There'll be peace . . . and quiet . . . forever. The coat of arms will be broken. The Count's line will be extinct. And the valet's breed will continue in an orphanage, win triumphs in the gutter, and end in jail!

from Cyrano de Bergerac (1897) (Edmond Rostand)

The honest, courageous, and romantic Cyrano is a brilliant musician, talented poet, agile swordsman, and philosopher in 17th-century France. There is only one apparent, singular defect in his otherwise perfect person: an enormous nose that provokes laughter disgust, and ridicule. This deformity, however has inspired the biting wit and daring insolence which arms him against the dull and ordinary' who dare to confront his nose extraordinaire!

Cyrano:

Take notice, boobies all. Who finds my visage's center ornament A thing to jest atthat it is my wont An if the jester's nobleere we part To let him taste my steel, and not my boot! Know that I am proud possessing such appendice. 'Tis well known, a big nose is indicative Of a soul affable, and kind, and courteous, Liberal, brave, just like myself, and such As you can never dare to dream yourself, Rascal contemptible! Show your heels, now! Or tell me why you stare so at my nose! Well, what is there so strange to the eye? How now? Is't soft and dangling, like a bird? Is it crook'd, like an owl's beak? Do you see a wart upon the tip? Or a fly, That takes the air there? What is there to stare at? You might have said a thousand things, like this, by Varying the tone. Aggressive: "Sir, if I had such a nose I'd amputate it!" Friendly: "When you sup it must annoy You, dipping in your cup; and you must need a special shape!" Descriptive: "'Tis a rock! . . . a peak! . . . a cape! A cape! Forsooth! 'Tis a peninsula!" Gracious: "You love the little birds, I think? I see you've managed with a fond research To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!" Considerate: "Take care, with your head bowed low By such a weight, lest head o'er heels you go!" Tender: "Pray get a small umbrella made, Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!" Cavalier: "The last fashion, friend, that hook? To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!" Emphatic: "No wind, 0 majestic nose, Can give thee coldsave when the mistral blows!" Dramatic: "When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!" Admiring: "Sign for a perfumery!" Simple: "When is the monument on view?" Rustic: "Call that thing a nose? Ay, marry, no! 'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!" Military: "Point against Cavalry! Practical: "Put it in the lottery! Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize! Or, parodying the lover Pyramus sighs, "Behold the nose that mars the harmony Of its master's phiz! Blushing its treachery! Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said, Had you the least of wit or letters. But, of wit you have not an atom, and of letters There are only three that spell you outA S S!