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Female Contemporary Comedic Page 1

• Maggie from Lend Me a Tenor• Divorce Papers from Goodbye Charles• Tricia from Dog Sees God• CB’s Sister from Dog Sees God• Deirdre from I Hate Hamlet• Carnelle from Miss Firecracker Contest• Linda from Play it Again, Sam• Evelyn from Bums• Vera from Greater Tuna• Madame Rosepettle from

Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Someone’s Hung You in the Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad

• Christine from Missing Marisa and Kissing Christine

Female Contemporary Comedic Page 2

• Imogen, ‘Cleo, Camping, Emmanuel, and Dick’ Monologue• Diana from Moving Diana• Carly from Reasons to Be Pretty• Sally Clown Monologue• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (1)• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (2)• Teddy from The Geography of Luck• Bette from The Marriage of Bette and Boo Bette

Female Contemporary Dramatic• Dr. Graham from Taste of Sunrise• Gayle from Almost, Maine• Kate from Broadway Bound• Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof• Katherine from Quilters• Carol from Oleanna• Carly from Reasons To Be Pretty

Female Contemporary Page 1• Maggie from Lend Me a Tenor• Divorce Papers from Goodbye Charles• Tricia from Dog Sees God• CB’s Sister from Dog Sees God• Deirdre from I Hate Hamlet• Carnelle from Miss Firecracker Contest• Linda from Play it Again, Sam• Evelyn from Bums• Vera from Greater Tuna• Madame Rosepettle from

Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Someone’s Hung You in the Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad

• Christine from Missing Marisa and Kissing Christine• Imogen, ‘Cleo, Camping, Emmanuel, and Dick’ Monologue• Diana from Moving Diana

Female Contemporary Page 2• Carly from Reasons to Be Pretty• Sally Clown Monologue• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (1)• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (2)• Teddy from The Geography of Luck• Bette from The Marriage of Bette and Boo Bette• Dr. Graham from Taste of Sunrise• Gayle from Almost, Maine• Kate from Broadway Bound• Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof• Katherine from Quilters• Carol from Oleanna• Carly from Reasons To Be Pretty

Female Classical Comedic• Dorine from Tartuffe• Helena from All’s Well that Ends Well• Princess from Love’s, Labour’s, Lost• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (1)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (2)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (3)• Katherina from Taming of the Shrew• Viola from Twelfth Night• Paulina from Winter’s Tale

Female Classical Dramatic Page 1• Rosalind from As You Like It• Lady Percy from Henry IV• Queen Katherine from Henry VIII• Ophelia from Hamlet• Isabella from Measure for Measure• Hero from Much Ado About Nothing• Queen Margaret from Richard III• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (1)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (2)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (3)

Female Classical DramaticPage 2• Julia from Two Gentlemen of Verona• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (1)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (2)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (3)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (4)• Paulina from Winter’s Tale

Female Classical Page 1• Dorine from Tartuffe• Helena from All’s Well that Ends Well• Princess from Love’s, Labour’s, Lost• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (1)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (2)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (3)• Katherina from Taming of the Shrew• Viola from Twelfth Night• Paulina from Winter’s Tale• Rosalind from As You Like It• Lady Percy from Henry IV• Queen Katherine from Henry VIII• Ophelia from Hamlet• Isabella from Measure for Measure

Female Classical Page 2• Hero from Much Ado About Nothing• Queen Margaret from Richard III• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (1)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (2)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (3)• Julia from Two Gentlemen of Verona• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (1)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (2)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (3)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (4)• Paulina from Winter’s Tale

FemalePage 1• Maggie from Lend Me a Tenor• Divorce Papers from Goodbye Charles• Tricia from Dog Sees God• CB’s Sister from Dog Sees God• Deirdre from I Hate Hamlet• Carnelle from Miss Firecracker Contest• Linda from Play it Again, Sam• Evelyn from Bums• Vera from Greater Tuna• Madame Rosepettle from

Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Someone’s Hung You in the Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad

• Christine from Missing Marisa and Kissing Christine• Imogen, ‘Cleo, Camping, Emmanuel, and Dick’ Monologue

FemalePage 2• Diana from Moving Diana• Carly from Reasons to Be Pretty• Sally Clown Monologue• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (1)• Steph from Reasons to Be Pretty (2)• Teddy from The Geography of Luck• Bette from The Marriage of Bette and Boo Bette• Dr. Graham from Taste of Sunrise• Gayle from Almost, Maine• Kate from Broadway Bound• Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof• Katherine from Quilters• Carol from Oleanna• Carly from Reasons To Be Pretty

FemalePage 3• Dorine from Tartuffe• Helena from All’s Well that Ends Well• Princess from Love’s, Labour’s, Lost• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (1)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (2)• Helena from Midsummer Night’s Dream (3)• Katherina from Taming of the Shrew• Viola from Twelfth Night• Paulina from Winter’s Tale• Rosalind from As You Like It• Lady Percy from Henry IV• Queen Katherine from Henry VIII• Ophelia from Hamlet• Isabella from Measure for Measure

FemalePage 4• Hero from Much Ado About Nothing• Queen Margaret from Richard III• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (1)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (2)• Juliet from Romeo and Juliet (3)• Julia from Two Gentlemen of Verona• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (1)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (2)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (3)• Jailer’s Daughter from Two Noble Kinsmen (4)• Paulina from Winter’s Tale

Male Contemporary Comedic• Stuart from Beyond Therapy• Eugene from Brighton Beach Memoirs• Jake from Jake’s Women• Roy from Lone Star• David from This is How it Is• Stu from California Suite

Male Contemporary Dramatic• Scoop from The Heidi Chronicles• Beethoven from Dog Sees God• CB from Dog Sees God (1)• CB from Dog Sees God (2)• Brick from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof• Jimmy from The Gingerbread Lady• Jim from The Glass Menagerie• Biff from Death of a Salesman• Chris from All My Sons• Reverend Hale from The Crucible• Arnold from Biloxi Blues

Male Contemporary• Stuart from Beyond Therapy• Eugene from Brighton Beach Memoirs• Jake from Jake’s Women• Roy from Lone Star• David from This is How it Is• Stu from California Suite• Scoop from The Heidi Chronicles• Beethoven from Dog Sees God• CB from Dog Sees God (1)• CB from Dog Sees God (2)• Brick from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Male Contemporary• Jimmy from The Gingerbread Lady• Jim from The Glass Menagerie• Biff from Death of a Salesman• Chris from All My Sons• Reverend Hale from The Crucible• Arnold from Biloxi Blues• John from Summer and Smoke

Male Classical Comedic• Breowne from Love’s Labour’s Lost

Male Classical Dramatic• Jason from Medea• Richard from Richard III

Male Classical

Male

Lend Me a Tenor: Ken LudwigMaggie: I—I hope you don’t mind me being here. The door was open—I mean we

knocked first, but you weren’t here. Which I guess you know, since you were

somewhere else. So then I waited, because I have a message from Aunt Julia. Mrs.

Leverett. She’s not really my aunt, actually. She’s an old friend, but I call her Aunt

Julia in case you’re wondering. Anyway, she asked me to—to wait here and remind

you that she hopes you’ll make a speech at the reception. Just a few words, and I’m

sure they’d really appreciate it, if you feel like it, which you probably don’t, which

is understandable, and that’s the message. It was really nothing. I—I guess I ought

to be going. Well. I don’t have to go. If you don’t think so. I mean it’s your

bedroom. Suite. Rooms. Of course, I’m sure you’d like to just relax a little now and

take off my clothes. Your clothes! Off. Change your clothes, into something more

comfortable. So I probably shouldn’t be here for that. If you don’t think so.

Goodbye Charles: Gabriel DavisI ate them. That’s right. I ate the divorce papers, Charles. I ate them with ketchup. And they were good...goooood. You probably want me to get serious about our divorce. The thing is you always called our marriage a joke. So let’s use logic here: If A we never had a serious marriage then B we can’t have a serious divorce. No. We can’t. The whole thing’s a farce, Charles – a farce that tastes good with ketchup.I mean, wasn’t it last week, your dad asked you the reason you walked down that aisle with me, and you said “for the exercise.” Ha, ha. That’s funny. You’re a funny guy, Charles. I’m laughing, not a crying. Ha, ha. I’m laughing because you’re about to give up on a woman who is infinitely lovable.For instance: Paul. He has loved me since the eighth grade. Sure, he’s a little creepy, but he reeeeally loves me. He’s made one hundred twenty seven passes at me, proposed forty seven times, and sent me over two hundred original love sonnets. He sees something in me, Charles. And he writes it down, in metered verse!And that’s not something you just find everyday. Someone who really loves everything about who you are as a person. Paul may be insane, but I value his feelings for me.I would never ask him to sign his name to a piece of paper promising to just turn off his feelings for me forever. But that’s what you’re asking me to do, for you. To sign away my right to...to that sweet voice Charles, those baby brown eyes, the way your hands feel through my hair before bed...Those aren’t things I want to lose. In fact, I won’t lose them. I won’t lose you. I’ll woo you. I’ve written you a sonnet. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day. Thou art more lovely and more temperate, rough winds do shake the darling buds of may and...” I’m not crying. I’m laughing. It’s all a big joke. It’s very funny, Charles. I keep waiting for you to say “April Fools.” Then I’ll rush into your arms and... But you’re not going to, are you? No. Of course not. It’s not April.I, I didn’t really write that sonnet, you know. Paul did. I think it’s good.You see, the truth...the truth is, Charles, I ate the divorce papers, I ate them, because I can’t stomach the thought of losing you.

Dog Sees God: Bert V RoyalTricia: So, he was all like (imitating Miss Othmar) ‘Woh woh woh. Woh woh. Woh woh woh wowoh woh.’ He is such a dick!! So, I’m like: ‘Excuse me, Mr. Von Pfefferkorn, but just because I can’t define metaphor doesn’t mean I don’t know what one is, you stupid buttwad!’ I begged and pleaded to God not to put me in his class. I wanted to be in Mr. Griffin’s lit class. He gives A’s to anyone with tits. But, no, I get the fag. Well, if he were straight, then obviously I wouldn’t be failing his class. The things is: I really think that God is punishing me for sleeping with Fatty-fat Frieda’s boyfriend. (Switching gears) I think I did it, subconsciously, just because I fucking hate Frieda Fatass. I mean, seriously, whenever one of us is upset over a real problem, she has to butt her fat ass in and start crying about how she can’t stop puking up her food. It’s so pathetic! I swear to God, if I have to hear her bitch one more time about how Craig won’t sleep with her until she loses weight, I’m going to stick my foot up her ass. That is, if I can find the entrance. And if she’s bulimic, will someone please tell me why she’s such a heifer? I mean, come on, Frieda. She told me the other day she was on a diet and I was thinking, like: What? You can’t eat anything larger than your head? Survey says YOU’RE FAT! Take your finger out of your throat and drag your ass to Lane Bryant. And speaking of her fashion sense, why is she always wearing that shirt that says WWJD. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who wants jelly doughnuts? Oh. What would Jesus do. Well, He wouldn’t wear that ugly-ass shirt with those nastyass spandex shorts. SPANDEX! Who wears Spandex?!?! Somebody needs to explain ‘camel toe’ to her. Her body is so gross! (Imitating Frieda) ‘I’m not just the president of the Itty Bitty Titty Commitee; I’m also a client!’ Blecch! ‘What would Jesus do?’ He wouldn’t let Darryl Farmer finger Him under the bleachers during a pep rally, that’s for damn sure! Now, what should we drink to?

Dog Sees God: Bert V RoyalCB’s Sister: Metamorphosis. Transformation. Evolution. Change. I am a teenage caterpillar. I know of these things. For soon, I’ll spin a cocoon. And from the silklike craft that I will create, a magnificent creature will emerge. No. Not a butterfly. For butterflies are a dime a dozen. Destined to flit about for a day or so, then drop dead. Or have its wings ripped off by a demented child. Or have its body pinned to a piece of cheap foam core and matted underneath a cheap frame and hung in the bathroom of an elderly woman who wreaks of Preparation H and Vick’s Vapo-Rub. (Beat.) This will not be my fate. This CANNOT be my fate. I will become a platypus. It’s not impossible. It’s just never been done before. It’s only a matter of time, you see. If I stay in my cocoon longer, I’ll change from a butterfly to a swallow and then from a swallow to a duck and then from a duck to a platypus. It’s all just a matter of time. And time I have. I will wait to become a platypus. I will be an extraordinary creature. (The lights fade as she pulls a silkscarf from her pocket and begins to wrap it around herself.) And when I poked my head out of my cocoon, I realized I had stayed inside for too long. I had, unwittingly, gone from platypus to beaver to walrus to chimpanzee to a human. I had evolved much more than I ever wanted to. Now I would learn to speak and learn to think and ask questions and make friends and lose friends and cry and laugh and maybe fall in love one day and maybe see that love go away and maybe climb a mountain, but I never wanted to do any of these things! I never wanted to feel this much! Platypuses don’t feel things, do they? Now, I’m trapped in this body that will always know regret. A girl who should’ve been a butterfly, but would still always want to be a platypus.

I Hate Hamlet: Paul RudnikDEIRDRE: Oh, Andrew. Last night, you were so wonderful. Andrew - I watched you on stage last night, and I thought - he has worked so hard. He's put his heart and soul into this, and at least partly for me. And he's … so bad. And I thought I'd be demolished, but - something happened. I mean, people were coughing, and a plane, it just flew overhead, and there were all those mosquitos. And you just kept on going! And I thought - what makes a hero? It's just someone who tries to do what's right, despite impossible odds. Like you playing Hamlet! You're the bravest, noblest man I've ever met! Yes! But then I thought about how I'd put you off, and how I was just a lady-in-waiting, and I thought … I'm not worthy. So you know what I decided to do? I decided to drown myself! Like Ophelia, in Central Park Lake! Isn't that perfect? (She runs to the chaise and stands on it.) So I went behind the theater, and I stood on a rock and braided wildflowers into my hair! And I sang Ophelia's bawdy song … (Singing.Hey nonny nonnyHey nonny no … no …(Desolate.) But I couldn't jump in. I lost my nerve! and I was so upset that I came back here and ran up to the roof! And I stood at the edge, and I gazed up at the moon! And I said, oh Mister Moon, you're so big, and round, and yellow …I know. Please. I thought Deirdre, everyone's right. Get some help. And that's when I felt it. This breeze, on the back of my neck. (Barrymore blows gently on Deirdre's neck.) Except it wasn't just a breeze, it was more like … a hand. (Barrymore lightly strokes Deirdre's neck.)A caress. And that's all I can remember, except I woke up his morning in the room up there, and there was a rose on my pillow. For passion. And my copy of Romeo and Juliet was lying open, right to one of Juliet's speeches:My bounty is as boundless as the sea,My love as deep; the more I give to theeThe more I have, for both are infinite.And all I could think about was you. Andrew - I'm worthy.

Miss Firecracker Contest: Beth HenleyCarnell: Popeye’s going to be using this red material to make my costume for the Miss Firecracker Contest. You see, I registered today. See, Elaine was Miss Firecracker way back when she was just eighteen. Anyway, it was way back that first year when I came to live with them. She was a vision of beauty riding on that float with a crown on her head waving to everyone. I thought I’d drop dead when she passed by me. Anyway, I just thought I’d give it a whirl. I’m twenty-four. Twenty-five’s the age limit. I just thought I’d give it a whirl while I still could. Course, don’t expect to win--that’s crazy. I’m just in it for the experience---that’s’s the main thing. That’s actually why I dyed my hair red; I thought it would be more appropriate for the contest. Did you bring that red dress along with you that I asked you about on the phone? I’m trying to make crimson red my thematic color. I’ll just need them in the actual contest for the opening Parade of Firecrackers. Why do you think I should just wait until after the audition and see if I make the pageant? Don’t you think I’ll make it? I know they only pick five girls. I’ve thought about it, and I, frankly, can’t think of five other girls in town that are prettier than me. I’m speaking honestly now. Course I know there’s Caroline Jeffers, but she has those yellow teeth. I know why you’re worried. You think I’ve ruined my chances, cause of my reputation. Well, everyone knew I used to go out with lots of men and all that. Different ones. It’s been a constant thing with me since I was young and---I just mention it cause it’s different now, since Aunt Ronelle died and since I got that---disease. Anyway, I go to church now and I’m signed up to where I take an orphan home to dinner once a week or to a movie; and I work on the cancer drive here just like you do in Natchez. My life has meaning. People aren’t calling me Miss Hot Tamale anymore like they used to. Everything’s changed. And being in that contest--it would be such an honor to me...I can’t explain the half of it. I’m not all that ugly. I wish you had about a drop of faith in me

Play it Again, Sam: Woody AllenLinda: I hope I’m not bothering you . . . what do you have for an anxiety attack? I need a tranquilizer. I have a throbbing in the pit of my stomach. My stomach feels jumpy. I’m finding it hard to breathe. I feel frightened, and I don’t know over what. Oh . . . I always get this way when Dick goes on a business trip. He had to fly to Cleveland for the day. I got up, helped him pack, drove him to the airport, and threw up in the United Airlines terminal. I don’t know what it is that upsets me so. My analyst would say I’m feeling guilty because I really want him to go. I know you don’t understand me. . . You think I’ve got everything going for me. I’m bright . . .people photograph me for magazines. I read, play Bach on the recorder, I’m happily married. I mean, why should I be a mass of symptoms? Well, you’ve got a lot going for you, too, and you’re a mass of symptoms. I guess it happens to us when we’re children . . . you know, you think you’re ugly and your parents get divorced . . . you feel abandoned . . . you must have had the same thing. Do you really think I’ve got a lot going for me? It’s funny. I never thought you liked me very much. You know, when I married Dick, I thought you were an oddball. I never really knew you. I mean we never spent any time together. Then when the four of us went out together you acted differently than now. I feel I’ve really gotten to know you in the past few weeks and I’ve come to a very interesting conclusion. You definitely are an oddball... but you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.

Greater Tuna: Jaston Williams, Joe Sears, Ed Howard

Vera: (to an audience member) Oh-Hiii. Vera Carp. Welcome to Coweta Baptist Church, where everybody's welcome. Even Catholics. (to another) Hi. How are you? Isn't that just the prettiest dress. I used to have one just like that-years ago. . . Isn't it wonderful how some people can just wear anything! (to another) Why, I thought you were dead! I don't remember who told me that, but I'm so glad they were wrong. VERA begins meeting.) I, Vera Carp, Vice-President of the Smut Snatchers of the New Order, in the absence of our president, the Reverend Spikes; do hereby declare this meeting to be officially open. Now, we need to send out a communique from our education committee. Now after all the vicious things they've said about us in the newspapers, we've decided to become more flexible on bi-lingual education, and we do indeed have a bi-lingual education program to submit to the Tuna schools. The difference is, our program is one of moderation. It entails learning the following Spanish phrases. "Habla.. usted ingles?", which means, "Do you speak English?"; "Donde puedo cambiar este cheque?", which is "Where can I cash this traveler's check?"; and the last one is "No he pedido esto", which is "I didn't order this!" Now that's all the Spanish any red-blooded American oughta feel obligated to learn. Now let's just see the newspapers make fun of that! . . . Well, he's still not here, so I'm gonna forge ahead. We need to send out a snatch squad . . . Well, we do. We need to send out a book-snatchin' squad to the Tuna High School Library to check those dictionaries. Now, we have a new list of words that have been declared possibly offensive or misunderstandable to pre-college students. Now the words are: hot, hooker, coke, clap, deflower, ball, knocker and nuts. (SPIKES enters.) Well, here he is. I hereby turn this meetin' over to our honorable president, the Reverend Spikes.

OH DAD, POOR DAD, SOMEONE' S HUNG YOU IN THE CLOSET AND I FEEL SO SAD: Arthur L. Kopit

Roseette: Would you like to see my husband? He's inside in the closet. I had him stuffed. Wonderful taxidermist I know. H'm? What do you say, Commodore? Wanna peek? He's my very favorite trophy. I take him with me wherever I go. Life, my dear Commodore, is never funny. It's grim! It's there every morning breathing in your face the moment you open your red baggy eyes. Life, Mr. Roseabove, is a husband hanging from a hook in the closet. Open the door too quickly and your whole day's shot to hell. But open the door just a little ways, sneak your hand in, pull out your dress and your day is made. Yet he's still there and waiting--and sooner or later the mothballs are gone and you have to clean house. Oh, it's a bad day, Commodore, when you have to stare Life in the face, and you find he doesn't smile at all: just hangs there--with his tongue sticking out. I hope you find this funny. I was hoping it would give you a laugh. Why must we only respect the dead? Why not the living, too? I killed him, of course. Champagne? To your continued good health. Ah, the waltz, monsieur. Listen. The waltz. The Dance of Lovers. Beautiful, don't you think? Now you don't really want to leave--do you, Commodore? After all, the night is still so young--and you haven't even seen my husband yet. Besides, there's a little story I still must tell you. A bedtime story. A fairy tale full of handsome princes and enchanted maidens; full of love and joy and music; tenderness and charm. It's my very favorite story, you see. And I never leave a place without telling it to at least one person. So please, commodore, won't you stay?...Good. I knew you'd see it my way. It would have been such a shame if you'd had to leave. For you see, Commodore, we are, in a way, united. We share something in common--you and I. We share desire. For you desire me, with love in your heart. While I, my dear Commodore, desire your heart.

Missing Marisa and Kissing Christine: John Patrick Shanley

Christine: I feel sorry for all men. They suffer like dumb beasts. That’s right, I’m single. Being single is mysterious. It’s silent. You live large parts of your life unobserved. There’s no one there saying, "That’s the third time you’ve gone to bathroom. Why do you laugh like that? Are you going to do anything today?" There’s no one saying, "You look unhappy. What is it?” . . I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Single, married, both ways are hard. Sometimes you want to suffer and not be seen. Then it’s better to be single. Sometimes you don’t even suffer unless there’s someone there seeing you. Then it’s much better to be single. It’s better to be married when it’s better to be married. For a woman, it’s great when you’re checking into a hotel and you’re Mrs. Whatever. Very solid feeling. I guess it doesn’t matter whether you’re married or nor. I guess I don’t think it matters very much one way or the other. Did you read about the cop who talked a guy out of committing suicide and then committed suicide himself? It’s like he made a deal with Death. That cop made a speech and turned a man around from taking his own life. Do you believe that somebody could say something to you that would make your whole life better or work or improve in some important way? What could someone say to you? After my accident, when I was lying paralyzed for six months, I had a lot of time to think. I thought about all the cruel things I’d done in my life. I tried to remember every generous thing I’d ever done. Moments of insight, of terrible pain, of pleasure. I tried to see patterns in my lists. I saw some things. I made some connections. But after a while it all began to dissolve away like a lace cookie dissolves away in your mouth. Some sweetness, then all gone like a dream. At first it felt like I was wearing an iron hat that was just a little too small. That was the concussion. My brain was actually swollen, pressing against my skull. After a time, that lessened. The feeling of the hat. But I could feel myself then like a tiny object caught in a great flood. I still have that feeling. Like I’m bound up, a little splinter, pitching along in a black rush. People said I was different after the accident. That the blow to my head had hurt me. Maybe. Six months to think about things changed me. Banging my brain changed me. But I look at people and people change. Don’t you agree?

Imogen, ‘Cleo, Camping, Emmanuel, and Dick’

I’m sorry. I’m always causing arguments. If there’s a man and there’s me and then someone else there’s usually an argument. I'm surprised you even remember me. I’m flattered. I mean, why was I then? I was out and about, I know, but I’d barely left LAMDA and honestly I knew nothing. I was nothing. This is such a strange business. You get a job, you meet someone, you like the, you maybe sleep with them, the job ends, then you never see them again even though you always say you will. You made some really good friends on When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth, except Raquel of course, but she doesn’t make friends, she just takes the odd hostage. Thing is I haven't seen anyone since. Except there was a particularly persistent caveman who I did see once but his wife was pregnant and he just cried all evening. Everything's so… temporary. That’s what’s nice about working with you lot again. (She carries on drinking) You know what I wish? I wish I had smaller breasts. Then I’d get to play some women with small breasts, and they’re always the best parts. I’d really like to play women with no breasts at all, you know, like in Ibsen. I should never have done the centerfold. I’m actually very versatile. ‘An impressive multifaceted performance’; that’s what they said about me as Jenny Grubb in Loving. And that wasn’t just taking off the glasses and letting my hair down, that was acting actually. I was acting her repressed sexuality. What I’m saying is, I’m not just some stupid girl from Elmhurst with a fucked knee, you know. I’m not just the Countess of Cleavage; all right? It’s so hard to convince people I’m a serious actress, but I really think it’s beginning to happen.

Moving DianaDiana: I went to a Quaker school. Absolutely uncompetitive! We used to have an awards ceremony at the end of the year. Everybody got an award! Then it dawned on me that if everybody got an award, it didn’t mean anything … So I went to the headmaster and I told him, “Why don’t you give up the awards altogether. I mean, if everybody gets an award, it doesn’t mean anything.” He looked at me and said, “Diana, not everyone realizes that. There are boys and girls who have never ever gotten an award in their life. It means something to them. So for that reason we do it.” And I said, “But do you realize how condescending that is to them? It’s ultimately going to make them feel worse.” He just glared at me and said, “Miss Schmidt. Someday, somebody’s going to prick your bubble.” I just… I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. So he called my motherShe came into school. Came in looking like a million dollar. Camel’s hair coat. Blonde hair. Looked like a Smith College undergrad. Came in smelling like an ocean breeze, I looked at her and said to myself, “I’m gonna get it.” Mr. Dumwalt, the headmaster, told her what I said … and Mom took me aside. She sat me down … and said “Don’t worry about Mr. Dumwalt. He was born with a pole up his ass!” I couldn’t believe it. I think that’s one of the reasons I’ve never abandoned hope for Mom.

Reasons to be Pretty: Neil LaButeCARLY I’m very attractive. I am. I’ve always been that way but it’s no great big deal to me—if anything, it’s worked against me for most of my life. (Beat.) It’s about this (Points.) My face. I was born with it, people. That’s all. I have been given this thing to wear around, my features, and I’m stuck with it. And yes, over the years it’s gotten me things, I won’t lie about that, dates and into clubs that I really wanted to get into or smiles from my father . . . but as I got older it suddenly became a kind of, I dunno what, but almost like a problem. A real bother that I don’t have any control over. (Beat.) Listen, I’m not stupid, I know I should be thankful, that I should pray to heaven and be happy that I’m not scarred or missing an ear—I know girls who hate, I mean, despise their noses and mouths or the fact that their eyes are too far out on their faces . . . I don’t have any of those problems and I’m happy about that. I look in the mirror and I see some beautiful woman looking back at me; my worst day, a line or two, a little pale or whatnot, but a really good face in there. Smiling. I’m not saying that I don’t understand how I got lucky in many ways, I do get that, I do, I just want folks to comprehend that beauty comes with a price, just like ugly does. A different one, of course, and I’ll take what I’ve got, but I’ve cried myself to sleep at night because of who I am as well, and you should know that . . . (Beat.) I hope my baby’s OK,—did I mention that we found out it was a little girl? But I really hope she’s no more than pretty, that’s my wish. That she’s not some beauty queen that people can’t stop staring at because I’d hate that for her . . . to be this object, some thing that people can’t help gawking at. Cause if she is— born like I was, is what I’m saying—if she ends up with a face that is some sorta magnet for men, the way I’ve been . . . I’d almost rather it was a situation where she was oblivious to it—not blind or anything, I wouldn’t wish that on her, but close. Some sort of oblivion that gets pasted over her eyes so she can go about life and not be aware that people are cruel in many ways. . . not just with their words but with the ways they look at you and desire you and, and, and . . . almost hate you because of it. (Smiles.) I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all heavy or anything, but I do think about it sometimes. My shift at work’s kinda long, you know? It is . . . so I’ve usually got some time on my hands to, you know. . . whatever. Think, I guess.

Clown Monologue

SALLY: I was in the audience. It’s like a sick joke - the last thing my Dad ever gave me. Tickets to Captain Coleman, the day the guy got stabbed. What is that, ironic? The guy that played Hippy the Clown takes an eight inch kitchen knife, sticks it through a paper plate, covers it with whipped cream, and goes out and pies him. Stabs him in the face on national television in front of a million screaming kids. Defines my generation - our parents remember where they were when Kennedy got shot, we knew where we were when Captain Coleman finally got pied. Hippy always tried. He’d sneak up with a pie every episode, and then he’d trip, or the door would get opened or something - and he’d get it himself. I hated that. Even as a kid, I just thought that was so unfair - just once, just once, I wanted to see him make it. Pie that smug bastard, right in the face. … It was... I mean, total shock. Hippy just walked up and - pow! Cream pie, right in the Captain’s face! We were all thinking - he did it. He actually, finally did it, and we were there for it. We went nuts

Reasons to be Pretty: Neil LaButeSTEPH He hurt me, he really did, you know? I mean, I can take a lot, pretty much, anyway, but I'm, like, my face? That's shit. It just is ... (Beat.) Not that I think I'm some beauty — an old-fashioned glamour gal or anything, I don't — but I'm not bad, ya know, not bad at all ... and even if I was, ugly, I'm saying, even if I was not cute or close to that, unattractive by world standards, don't I wanna be with someone who finds me beautiful? I think so. It's not like a math equation or anything, it is fairly simple — you can't be with a guy who finds you unpleasant to look at. Not that, but even on the fence ... How can I? Knowing that he's sitting there at dinner across from me but he's always reaching for something, the salt or whatever, or looking around the room, and why? 'Cause he doesn't wanna make eye contact. That would suck, completely suck if you were that woman and that was gonna be me — I'm saying once I knew how he felt about me, that was what I had to look forward to. Listen, it's weird, I know that, because I don't count looks as my top thing in a guy, not at all — look at Greg. He's got a good face, really, not knockout but very OK, yet I never used to even think it to myself, I mean, envision him in that way. Sometimes, a friend or, like, some cousin of mine visited a few months back and she whispered to me at a family thing we were at, a barbecue, "God, he's cute. He's so cute!" And I looked over to where she was pointing, expecting to see a boy from the neighborhood — we know a lot of people, having grown up here since, like, forever — and she's pointing at Greg. Just right there, my boyfriend, who's over at the grill and laughing and making burgers for all of us ... and he was, too. With the sun going down — you know how it shoots a ray out sometimes around something, like a halo, almost — it was doing that and he was bathed in this light for a second, in this splash of gold and creamy light, and I thought, "Yeah, he is. He really is a handsome man," but, see, that still isn't any big deal to me. Even though he is ... in his own way ... it's not the thing about him that first made me like him. Uh-uh.

Reasons to be Pretty: Neil LaButeSTEPH I really do feel that, that I'm not this person who gets off on looks or the more, like, physical side of men but when it's the other way around ... [expletive], you know? It just totally hurts if you find out he's not at all into your face, and why that is I don't know, I mean, what a scientist would say about it, those people who are studying human behavior or whatnot ... Not saying this is full of profound insight or anything but any woman I know, like, my age or younger, she's gonna be super upset if she heard what I did. That her boyfriend thinks her face is "OK." You can't swallow that down and find a way to come up smiling or anything, you know what I'm saying? There is just no good way to take that! (Beat.) Why do we feel that way, though, I wonder? Is it maybe TV or magazines or something, our moms telling us that we're pretty no matter what we look like ... I'm not sure. I just know that women throw everything they've got into their physical being, and a main part of that — the main part — is the face. (Beat.) I go nuts if I still break out on my chin or anything, carry tweezers in my purse, and I'm not even, like, all crazy about it like a lot of my friends are ... and every one of them, the ones that I've called, at least, they all said to dump him. They did. Because if he's willing to say that, even to a friend, then you can bet he's probably thinking even more than you know about. Can you imagine what he's actually feeling about my body, and this isn't about sex, not really, but just how he sees my legs or arms, anything ... OK, yes, I'm thinking about all the rest of it, too, of course I am! The words he'll use to describe my breasts or my butt or things like that ... It's too much, it is, I can't even start to go there without wanting to throw up. I always felt like my face was one of my better parts and he's talking about me like I'm some old Buick out in the backyard that he keeps thinking about fixing but just can't get to it. (Laughs.) "Meant as a compliment," he says to me, like that should calm my nerves or something, so ... [expletive] that. I mean, really. [Expletive]. I'm realistic and I know me as a person — I don't have that much going for me, not really. Not all educated and smart or anything, and not gorgeous, not like some girls — but I like what I've got and I'm gonna protect that. I am. Yeah. (Beat.) I mean, wouldn't you?

The Geography of Luck: Marlene Meyer

Teddy: Almost got married one time, to this clown, pretty famous clown, from Mexico? People like to think that clowns are happy, but he was real moody, he was always depressed. I remember this one time we were at this motel in the San Fernando Valley called the Pink Motel? Supposed to be romantic. We were taking a trial run at, you know, being together every day and it was out third day and we were celebrating … I was drinking cold duck and he was drinking Romilar P.M. and he started, screaming, about how I was killing him with my needs, or knees? I think he said knees. I have this scar on my knee that used to bug him. He hated scars, any kind of deformity. He used to ask me, didn’t I think he had a perfect body. But he was small, he was always getting beat up.So we got into this fight and he pulled out a gun and started shooting the bed and these motel creeps came and put us out of the room and we had to sleep in my car and when I woke up the next morning he was dead.His name was Coejo. Conejo means rabbit.

The Marriage of Bette and Boo BetteBETTE. Hello, Bonnie? This is Betsy. Betsy. ( To remind her.) Bonnie, your grade is eight, and Betsy, your grade is five. Yes, it's me. How are you? Oh, I'm sorry, I woke you? Well, what time is it? Oh I'm sorry. But isn't Florida in a different time zone than we are? Oh. I thought it was. Oh well.Bonnie, are you married? How many children do you have? Two. That's nice. Are you going to have any more? Oh, I think you should. Yes, I'm married. To Boo. I wrote you. Oh, I never wrote you? How many years since we've spoken? Since we were fifteen. Well, I'm not a very good correspondent. Oh, dear, you're yawning, I guess it's too late to have called. Bonnie, do you remember the beach and little Jimmy Winkler? I used to dress him up as a lamp shade, it was so cute. Oh. Well, do you remember when Miss Willis had me stand in the corner, and you stand in the wastebasket, and then your grandmother came to class that day? I thought you'd remember that. Oh, you want to go back to sleep?Oh, I'm sorry. Bonnie, before you hang up, I've lost two babies. No, I don't mean misplaced, stupid, they died. I go through the whole nine month period of carrying them, and then when it's over, they just take them. away. I don't even see the bodies, Hello? Oh, I thought you weren't there. I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so late. I thought Florida was Central Time or something. Yes, I got twelve in geography or something, you remember? Betsy, your grade is twelve and Bonnie, your grade is . . . what did you get in geography? Well, it's not important anyway. What? No, Boo's not home. Well, sometimes he just goes to a bar and then he doesn't come home until the bar closes, and some of them don't close at all and so he gets confused what time it is. Does your husband drink? Oh, that's good. What's his name? Scooter? Like bicycle? I like the name Scooter. I love cute things. Do you remember Jackie Cooper in Skippy and his best friend Sukey? I cried and cried. Hello, are you still there? I'm sorry, I guess I better let you go back to sleep. Goodbye, Bonnie, it was good to hear your voice. ( Hangs up. Lights change.)

Taste of Sunrise: Susan Zeder

Dr. Graham: Mr. Tucker? I’m Dr. Graham. I’m a teacher at the Central Institute for the Deaf and I understand that you have a very bright boy. I’m not here to talk about tests or cures; I’m here to talk about a school. Ours is a new school, much smaller than the State School in Jacksonville. It’s a private, residential research facility, totally committed to oral communication. What if he could talk to you? We can teach Tuc to speak and to read lips. Oral speech is the sole power to rekindle the light of intelligence. Your son communicates by instinct and mimicry, but without training his intelligence is locked in a tiny room, without concepts, without ideas, without ways of sharing thoughts and feelings. Language is the key to unlocking that room. Think of it, Mr. Tucker. Think of being able to say everything you ever wanted to tell him. Think of his being able to tell you his hopes, his fears, his dreams. If you send us a curious lad, we will send you back a boy who can speak and understand those who speak to him. What would you think of that?

Almost, Maine: John CarianaGayle: I told you we’re done. Because – Because when I asked you if you ever thought we were gonna get married – remember when I asked you that? In December? It was snowing? Yeah, well, when I asked you… that, you got so… quiet. And everybody said that that right there shoulda told me everything. Marvalyn said that how quiet you got was all I needed to know, and she’s right: You don’t love me. And I’ve been trying to fix that, I’ve tried to make you love me by giving you every bit of love I had, and now… I don’t have any love for me left, and that’s… that’s not good for a person… and… that’s why I want all the love I gave you back, because I wanna bring it with me. I want it back in case I need it. Because I can’t very well go around giving you love to other guys, cause that just doesn’t seem right – So I think – I think that, since I know now that you’re not ready to do what comes next for people who have been together for quite a long time (i.e. get married), I think we’re gonna be done, and so I think the best thing we can do now is just return the love we gave each other, and call it… (Taking in the bags – the pathetic one that contains the love she gave him and the awesome several that contain the love that he gave her.) even. Oh, Jeezum Crow, is that really all the love I gave you, Lendall? I mean, I thought – I mean, what kind of person am I if this is all the love I gave y - … No… n-nno! (Fiercely) I know I gave you more than that, Lendall, I know it! (She thinks. Collects herself. New attack.) Did you lose it? Did you loose it, Lendall? ‘Cause I know I gave you more than that, and I think you’re pulling something on me, and this is not a good time to be pulling something on me! (She looks at the little bag, takes it,and is about to leave. But curiosity stops her. She sits on the chair, opens the bag and examines what’s inside.) Lendall? What is this? What the heck is this, Lendall? This is not - Oh, Lendall, this is a ring. Is this a ring? A ring that you give to someone you’ve been with for quite a long time if you want to let them know what comes next for people who have been together for quite a long time? Oh! (Beat.) But all the love I gave to you? Where is it?

Broadway Bound: Neil Simon

Kate: What do I want to do? Is that how it works? You have an affair, and I get the choice of forgetting about it or living alone for the rest of my life?...It’s so simple for you, isn’t it? I am so angry. I am so hurt by your selfishness. You break what was good between us and leave me to pick up the pieces...and still you continue to lie to me. I knew about that woman a year ago. I got a phone call from a friend. I won’t even tell you who..."What’s going on with you and Jack?" she asks me. "Are you two still together? Who’s this woman he’s having lunch with every day?" She asks me...I said, "Did you see them together?" ,,She said, "No, but I heard."...I said, "don’t believe what you hear. Believe what you see!" and I hung up on her...Did I do good, Jack? Did I defend my husband like a good wife?...A year I lived wit that, hoping to God it wasn’t true, and if it was, praying it would go away...and God was good to me. NO more phone calls, no more stories about Jack and his lunch partner...no more wondering why you were coming home late from work even when it wasn’t busy season...until this morning. Guess who calls me?...Guess who Jack was having lunch with in the same restaurant twice last week?... Last year’ lies don’t hold up this year, Jack...This year you have to deal with it

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof: Tennessee Williams

Maggie: Yes, it's too bad because you can’t wring their necks if they've got no necks to wring! Isn't that right honey? Yep, they're no-neck monsters, all no-neck people are monsters? (children shriek downstairs) Hear them? Hear them screaming? I don't know where their voice boxes are located since they don't have necks. I tell you I got so nervous at that table tonight, I thought I would throw back my head and utter a scream you could hear across the Arkansas border an' parts of Louisiana an' Tennessee. I said to our charming sister-in-law, Mae, "honey, couldn't you feed those precious little things at a separate table with an oilcloth cover? They make such a mess an' the lace cloth looks so pretty!" She made enormous eyes at me and said, "Ohhh, nooooo! On Big Daddy's birthday? Why, he would never forgive me!" Well, I want you to know, Big Daddy hadn't been at the table two minutes with those five no-neck monsters slobbering and drooling over their food before he threw down his fork an' shouted, "Fo' God's sake, Gooper, why don't you put them pigs at a trough in th' kitchen?"- Well, I swear, I simply could have di-ieed! Think of it, Brick, they've got five of them and number six is coming. They've brought the whole bunch down here like animals to display at a county fair. Why, they have those children doin' tricks all the time! "Junior, show Big Daddy how you do this, show Big Daddy how you do that, say your little piece fo' Big Daddy, Sister. Show you dimples, Sugar. Brother, show Big Daddy how you stand on your head!"- it goes on all the time, along with constant little remarks and innuendos about the fact that you and I have not produced any children, are totally childless and therefore totally useless!- Of course it's comical but its also disgusting since it so obvious what they're up to!

Quilters: Barbara Damashek

Katherine: No. I never married. Once, I almost did, but it didn't work out. I was twenty-seven years old. I was quite a go-getter in those days. Very headstrong. I'd been away to teachers college and was very definite about my career. Well, I was sick when I was younger and I couldn't have children. It didn't bother me though, I was so busy with my teaching and church work and all. So, anyway this doctor came to town. He was from California. My, he was so handsome. He had a gap toothed grin that would stop your heart. Well, we just fell in love, you know. I'd never thought about marrying anybody before...never met anybody I'd consider spending my life with. But him. well, I thought he was pretty special. I told him right off about not being able to have children. I wanted that out in the open right off. I told him I was happy with my work and it didn't make a bit of difference to me. Maybe later on, you know, if I changed my mind, I might want to adopt some kids. But all in all it suited me just fine. He looked me right in the eye and said it suited him just fine too. He said he'd never been so sure about kids himself, and even so, it was me he wanted and that was enough. We had a few months of happiness after that. Oh, he could be so much fun! Then one day he told me he'd made a mistake. He really did want children real bad. I could tell by the way it kinda tore him up that he was real sorry. Shortly after that, a woman he knew from California moved to town and they got married. I taught both their children in school before I retired. Like I said, I never married. Living alone always suited me just fine.

Oleanna: David Mamet

Carol: What gives you the right. Yes. To speak to a woman in your private… Yes. Yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You feel yourself empowered … you say so yourself. To strut. To posture. To “perform.” To “Call me in here…” Eh? You say that higher education is a joke. And treat it as such, you treat it as such. And confess to a taste to play the Patriarch in your class. To grant this. To deny that. To embrace your students. How can you deny it. You did it to me. Here. You did… You confess. You love the Power. To deviate. To invent, to transgress … to transgress whatever norms have been established for us. And you think it’s charming to “question” in yourself this taste to mock and destroy. But you should question it. Professor. And you pick those things which you feel advance you: publication, tenure, and the steps to get them you call “harmless rituals.” And you perform those steps. Although you say it is hypocrisy. But to the aspirations of your students. Of hardworking students, who come here, who slave to come here – you have no idea what it cost me to come to this school – you mock us. You call education “hazing,” and from your so-protected, so-elitist seat you hold our confusion as a joke, and our hopes and efforts with it. Then you sit there and say “what have I done?” And ask me to understand that you have aspirations too. But I tell you. I tell you. That you are vile. And that you are exploitative. And if you possess one ounce of that inner honesty you describe in your book, you can look in yourself and see those things that I see. And you can find revulsion equal to my own. Good day.

Tartuffe: MoliereDorrine: No, I ask nothing of you. Clearly you wantTo be Madame Tartuffe, and I feel boundNot to oppose a wish so very sound. What right have I to criticize the match?Indeed, my dear, the man’s a brilliant catch.Monsieur Tartuffe, Now, there’s a man of weight!Yes, yes, Monsieur Tartuffe, I’m bound to state, Is quite a person; that’s not to be denied;‘Twill be no little thing to be his bride.The world already rings with his renown;He’s a great noble – in his native town;His ears are red, he has a pink complexion,And all in all, he’ll suit you to perfection. Oh, how triumphant you will feelAt having caught a husband so ideal !A dutiful daughter must obeyHer father, even if he weds her to an ape.You’ve a bright future; why struggle to escape?Tartuffe will take you back where his family lives, To a small town as warm with relatives – Uncles and cousins whom you’ll be charmed to meet.You’ll be received at once by the elite,.

Calling upon the bailiff’s wife, no less – Even, perhaps, upon the mayoress,Who’ll sit you down in the best kitchen chair.Then, once a year, you’ll dance at the village fairTo the drone of bagpipes – two of them, in fact – And see a puppet – show, or an animal act.

All’s Well that Ends Well: ShakespeareHelena: Good madam, I confessHere on my knee before high heaven and you,That before you, and next unto high heaven,I love your son.My friends were poor but honest; so’s my love.Be not offended, for it hurts not himThat he is loved of me. I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suit,Nor would I have him till I do deserve him;Yet never know how that desert should be.I know I love in vain, strive against hope;Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my loveAnd lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adoreThe sun that looks upon his worshipperBut knows of him no more. My dearest madam,Let not your hate encounter with my love,For loving where you do; but if yourself,Whose aged honor cites a virtuous youth,Did ever in so true a flame of liking,

Wish chastely and love dearly, that your DianWas both herself and Love, O, then give pity To her whose state is such that cannot chooseBut lend and give where she is sure to lose;That seeks not to find that her search implies,But riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies.

Love’s Labour’s Lost: ShakespearePrincess: A time methinks too shortTo make a world-without-end bargain in.No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur’d much,Full of dear guiltiness, and therefore this:If for my love (as there is no such cause)You will do aught, this shall you do for me:Your oath I will not trust, but go with speedTo some forlorn and naked hermitage,Remote from all the pleasures of the world;There stay until the twelve celestial signsHave brought about the annual reckoning.If this austere insociable lifeChange not your offer made in heat of blood;If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weedsNip not the gaudy blossoms of your loveBut that it bear this trial, and last love;Then at the expiration of the year,Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,

And by this virgin palm now kissing thine,I will be thine; and till that instant shutMy woeful self up in a mourning house,Raining the tears of lamentationFor the remembrance of my father’s death.If this thou do deny, let our hands part,Neither intitled in the other’s heart.

Midsummer’s Night Dream: Shakespeare

Helena: O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies,For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears;If so, my eyes are oft’ner wash’d than hers.No, no; I am as ugly as a bear;For beasts that meet me run away for fear.Therefore no marvel though DemetriusDo, as a monster, fly my presence thus.What wicked and dissembling glass of mineMade me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne!But who is here? Lysander! on the ground?Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

Midsummer’s Night Dream: Shakespeare

Helena: Lo! she is one of this confederacy.Now I perceive, they have conjoin’d all threeTo fashion this false sport, in spite of me.Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid!Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’dTo bait me with this foul derision?Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent,When we have chid the hasty-footed timeFor parting us—O, is all forgot?All school-days friendship, childhood innocence?We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,Have with our needles created both one flower,Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,Both warbling of one song, both in one key,As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindsHad been incorporate. So we grew together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition,Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;

So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.And will you rent our ancient love asunder,To join with men in scorning your poor friend?It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,Though I alone do feel the injury.

Midsummer’s Night Dream: Shakespeare

Helena: How happy some o’er other some can be!Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;He will not know what all but he do know;And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,So I, admiring of his qualities.Things base and vile, holding no quantity,Love can transpose to form and dignity.Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind;And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste;Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste;And therefore is Love said to be a child,Because in choice he is so oft beguil’d.As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,So the boy Love is perjur’d every where;For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine;And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,So he dissolv’d, and show’rs of oaths did melt.

I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight;Then to the wood will he tomorrow nightPursue her; and for this intelligenceIf I have thanks, it is a dear expense.But herein mean I to enrich my pain,To have his sight thither and back again.

Taming of the Shrew: ShakespeareKatherina:Fie, fie, unknit that threat’ning unkind brow,And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.It blots thy beauty, as frosts do bite the meads,Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds,And in no sense is meet or amiable.A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled,Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,And while it is so, none so dry or thirstyWill deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,And for thy maintenance; commits his bodyTo painful labor, both by sea and land;To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,Whilst thou li’st warm at home, secure and safe;And craves no other tribute at thy handsBut love, fair looks, and true obedience—Too little payment for so great a debt.Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband;And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,And not obedient to his honest will,

What is she but a foul contending rebel,And graceless traitor to her loving lord?I am asham’d that women are so simpleTo offer war where they should kneel for peace,Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,But that our soft conditions, and our hearts,Should well agree with our external parts?Come, come, you froward and unable worms!My mind hath been as big as one of yours,My heart as great, my reason haply more,To bandy word for word and frown for frown;But now I see our lances are but straws,Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,And place your hands below your husband’s foot;In token of which duty, if he please,My hand is ready, may it do him ease.

Twelfth Night: Shakespeare

Viola: I left no ring with her. What means this lady?Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!She made good view of me; indeed so muchThat methought her eyes had lost her tongue,For she did speak in starts distractedly.She loves me sure, the cunning of her passionInvites me in this churlish messenger.None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.I am the man! If it be so, as ’tis,Poor lady, she were better love a dream.Disguise, I see thou art a wickednessWherein the pregnant enemy does much.How easy is it for the proper-falseIn women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,For such as we are made of, such we be.How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,And I (poor monster) fond as much on him;And she (mistaken) seems to dote on me.What will become of this? As I am man,

My state is desperate for my master’s love;As I am woman (now alas the day!),What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!O time, thou must untangle this, not I,It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie.

Winter’s Tale: ShakespearePaulina: What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boilingIn leads or oils? What old or newer tortureMust I receive, whose every word deservesTo taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny,Together working with thy jealousies(Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idleFor girls of nine), O, think what they have done,And then run mad indeed—stark mad! for allThy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.That thou betrayedst Polixenes, ’twas nothing—That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,And damnable ingrateful; nor was’t muchThou wouldst have poison’d good Camillo’s honor,To have him kill a king—poor trespasses,More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckonThe casting forth to crows thy baby-daughterTo be or none or little—though a devilWould have shed water out of fire ere done’t;Nor is’t directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heartThat could conceive a gross and foolish sireBlemish’d his gracious dam; this is not, no,Laid to thy answer: but the last—O lords,When I have said, cry “Woe!”—the Queen, the Queen,The sweet’st, dear’st creature’s dead, and vengeance for’tNot dropp’d down yet.I say she’s dead; I’ll swear’t. If word nor oathPrevail not, go and see. If you can bringTincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,Heat outwardly or breath within, I’ll serve youAs I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!Do not repent these things, for they are heavierThan all thy woes can stir; therefore betake theeTo nothing but despair. A thousand knees,Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,Upon a barren mountain, and still winterIn storm perpetual, could not move the godsTo look that way thou wert.

Summer and Smoke: Tennessee Williams

• John: I have respect for the truth, and I have respect for you – So I’d better speak honestly if you want me to speak. You’ve won the argument that we had between us. We’re not just a package of tea leaves. Every interior inch of us is taken up with something ugly and

As You Like It: Shakespeare

Rosalind: And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,That you insult, exult, and all at once,Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty—As, by my faith, I see no more in youThan without candle may go dark to bed—Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?Why, what means this? why do you look on me?I see no more in you than in the ordinaryOf nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,I think she means to tangle my eyes too!No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of creamThat can entame my spirits to your worship.You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you

follow her,Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?You are a thousand times a properer manThan she a woman. ’Tis such fools as youThat makes the world full of ill-favor’d children.’Tis not her glass, but you that flatters her,And out of you she sees herself more properThan any of her lineaments can show her.But, mistress, know yourself, down on your knees,And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;For I must tell you friendly in your ear,Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Hamlet: Shakespeare

Ophelia: O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac’d,No hat upon his head, his stockins fouled,Ungart’red, and down-gyved to his ankle,Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking eachother,And with a look so piteous in purportAs if he had been loosed out of hellTo speak of horrors—he comes before me.He took me by the wrist, and held me hard,Then goes he to the length of all his arm,And with his other hand thus o’er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my faceAs ’a would draw it. Long stay’d he so.At last, a little shaking of mine arm,And thrice his head thus waving up and down,He rais’d a sigh so piteous and profoundAs it did seem to shatter all his bulkAnd end his being. That done, he lets me o,And with his head over his shoulder turn’d,He seem’d to find his way without his eyes,For out a’ doors he went without their helps,And to the last bended their light on me.

Henry IV: Shakespeare

Lady Percy: O my good lord, why are you thus alone?For what offense have I this fortnight beenA banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed?Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from theeThy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,And start so often when thou sit’st alone?Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,And given my treasures and my rights of theeTo thick-ey’d musing and curst melancholy?In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,Cry “Courage! to the field!” And thou hast talk’dOf sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,Of prisoners’ ransom, and of soldiers slain,And all the currents of a heady fight;Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream,And in thy face strange motions have appear’d,Such as we see when men restrain their breathOn some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Henry VIII: Shakespeare

Queen Katherine: O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offense have I this fortnight beenA banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed?Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from theeThy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,And start so often when thou sit’st alone?Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,And given my treasures and my rights of theeTo thick-ey’d musing and curst melancholy?In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,Cry “Courage! to the field!” And thou hast talk’dOf sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,Of prisoners’ ransom, and of soldiers slain,And all the currents of a heady fight;

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream,And in thy face strange motions have appear’d,Such as we see when men restrain their breathOn some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Measure for Measure: Shakespeare

Isabella: To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,Either of condemnation or approof,Bidding the law make curtsy to their will,Hooking both right and wrong to th’ appetite,To follow as it draws! I’ll to my brother.Though he hath fall’n by prompture of the blood,Yet hath he in him such a mind of honorThat had he twenty heads to tender downOn twenty bloody blocks, he’ld yield them up,Before his sister should her body stoopTo such abhorr’d pollution.Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die;More than our brother is our chastity.I’ll tell him yet of Angelo’s request,And fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest.

Much Ado About Nothing: Shakespeare

Hero: O god of love! I know he doth deserveAs much as may be yielded to a man;But nature never fram’d a woman’s heartOf prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,Misprising what they look on, and her witValues itself so highly that to herAll matter else seems weak. She cannot love,Nor take no shape nor project of affection,She is so self-endeared.I never yet saw man,How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur’d,But she would spell him backward. If fair-fac’d,She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;If low, an agot very vildly cut;If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;If silent, why, a block moved with none.

So turns she every man the wrong side out,And never gives to truth and virtue thatWhich simpleness and merit purchaseth

Richard III: Shakespeare

Queen Margaret: I call’d thee then vain flourish of my fortune;I call’d thee then poor shadow, painted queen,The presentation of but what I was;The flattering index of a direful pageant;One heav’d a-high, to be hurl’d down below;A mother only mock’d with two fair babes;A dream of what thou wast, a garish flagTo be the aim of every dangerous shot;A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?Who sues, and kneels, and says, “God save the Queen”?Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?Decline all this, and see what now thou art:For happy wife, a most distressed widow;

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;For queen, a very caitiff crown’d with care;For she that scorn’d at me, now scorn’d of me;For she being feared of all, now fearing one;For she commanding all, obey’d of none.Thus hath the course of justice whirl’d about,And left thee but a very prey to time,Having no more but thought of what thou wastTo torture thee the more, being what thou art.Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou notUsurp the just proportion of my sorrow?Now thy proud neck bears half my burden’d yoke,From which even here I slip my weary head,And leave the burden of it all on thee.Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance,These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Romeo and Juliet: Shakespeare (1)

Juliet: Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheekFor that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain denyWhat I have spoke, but farewell compliment!Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, “Ay,”And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear’st,Thou mayest prove false: at lovers’ perjuriesThey say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won,I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world.In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,And therefore thou mayest think my behavior light,But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more trueThan those that have more coying to be strange.I should have been more strange, I must confess,But that thou overheardst, ere I was ware,

My true-love passion; therefore pardon me,And not impute this yielding to light love,Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Romeo and Juliet: Shakespeare (2)

Juliet: Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,Towards Phoebus’ lodging; such a waggonerAs Phaëton would whip you to the west,And bring in cloudy night immediately.Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,That th’ runaway’s eyes may wink, and RomeoLeap to these arms untalk’d of and unseen!Lovers can see to do their amorous ritesBy their own beauties, or, if love be blind,It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,Thou sober-suited matron all in black,And learn me how to lose a winning match,Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks,With thy black mantle, till strange love grow bold,Think true love acted simple modesty.Come, night, come, Romeo, come, thou day in night,For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night,Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.

Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d night,Give me my Romeo, and, when I shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with night,And pay no worship to the garish sun.O, I have bought the mansion of a love,But not possess’d it, and though I am sold,Not yet enjoy’d. So tedious is this dayAs is the night before some festivalTo an impatient child that hath new robesAnd may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,And she brings news; and every tongue that speaksBut Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence.

Romeo and Juliet: Shakespeare (3)Juliet: Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,That almost freezes up the heat of life.I’ll call them back again to comfort me.Nurse!—What should she do here?My dismal scene I needs must act alone.Come, vial.What if this mixture do not work at all?Shall I be married then tomorrow morning?No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there.Laying down her dagger.What if it be a poison which the friarSubtilly hath minist’red to have me dead,Lest in this marriage he should be dishonor’dBecause he married me before to Romeo?I fear it is, and yet methinks it should not,For he hath still been tried a holy man.How if, when I am laid into the tomb,I wake before the time that RomeoCome to redeem me? there’s a fearful point!Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?Or if I live, is it not very like

The horrible conceit of death and night,Together with the terror of the place—As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,Where for this many hundred years the bonesOf all my buried ancestors are pack’d,Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,Lies fest’ring in his shroud, where, as they say,At some hours in the night spirits resort—Alack, alack, is it not like that I,So early waking—what with loathsome smells,And shrikes like mandrakes’ torn out of the earth,That living mortals, hearing them, run mad—O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,Environed with all these hideous fears,And madly play with my forefathers’ joints,And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud,And in this rage, with some great kinsman’s bone,As with a club, dash out my desp’rate brains?O, look! methinks I see my cousin’s ghostSeeking out Romeo, that did spit his bodyUpon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay!Romeo, Romeo, Romeo! Here’s drink—I drink to thee.

Two Gentlemen of Verona: Shakespeare

Julia: A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful!I hope my master’s suit will be but cold,Since she respects my mistress’ love so much.Alas, how love can trifle with itself!Here is her picture: let me see; I thinkIf I had such a tire, this face of mineWere full as lovely as is this of hers;And yet the painter flatter’d her a little,Unless I flatter with myself too much.Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:If that be all the difference in his love,I’ll get me such a color’d periwig.Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine;Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high.What should it be that he respects in her,

But I can make respective in myself,If this fond Love were not a blinded god?Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, lov’d, and ador’d;And were there sense in his idolatry,My substance should be statue in thy stead.I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sakeThat us’d me so; or else, by Jove I vow,I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes,To make my master out of love with thee.

Two Gentlemen of Verona: Shakespeare

Julia: A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful!I hope my master’s suit will be but cold,Since she respects my mistress’ love so much.Alas, how love can trifle with itself!Here is her picture: let me see; I thinkIf I had such a tire, this face of mineWere full as lovely as is this of hers;And yet the painter flatter’d her a little,Unless I flatter with myself too much.Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:If that be all the difference in his love,I’ll get me such a color’d periwig.Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine;Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high.What should it be that he respects in her,

But I can make respective in myself,If this fond Love were not a blinded god?Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, lov’d, and ador’d;And were there sense in his idolatry,My substance should be statue in thy stead.I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sakeThat us’d me so; or else, by Jove I vow,I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes,To make my master out of love with thee.

Two Noble Kinsmen: Shakespeare (1) Jailer’s Daughter: Why should I love this gentleman? ’Tis oddsHe never will affect me. I am base,My father the mean keeper of his prison,And he a prince. To marry him is hopeless;To be his whore is witless. Out upon’t!What pushes are we wenches driven toWhen fifteen once has found us! First, I saw him:I seeing, thought he was a goodly man;He has as much to please a woman in him(If he please to bestow it so) as everThese eyes yet look’d on. Next, I pitied him;And so would any young wench o’ my conscienceThat ever dream’d, or vow’d her maidenheadTo a young handsome man. Then, I lov’d him,Extremely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him;And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too;• But in my heart was Palamon, and there,Lord, what a coil he keeps! To hear himSing in an evening, what a heaven it is!

And yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spokenWas never gentleman. When I come inTo bring him water in a morning, firstHe bows his noble body, then salutes me thus:“Fair gentle maid, good morrow. May thy goodnessGet thee a happy husband!” Once he kiss’d me—I lov’d my lips the better ten days after.Would he would do so ev’ry day! He grieves much,And me as much to see his misery.What should I do to make him know I love him,For I would fain enjoy him? Say I ventur’dTo set him free? what says the law then?Thus much for law or kindred! I will do it,And this night, or tomorrow, he shall love me.

Two Noble Kinsmen: Shakespeare (2) Jailer’s Daughter: Let all the dukes and all the devils roar,He is at liberty! I have ventur’d for him,And out I have brought him to a little woodA mile hence. I have sent him where a cedar,Higher than all the rest, spreads like a planeFast by a brook, and there he shall keep closeTill I provide him files and food, for yetHis iron bracelets are not off. O Love,What a stout-hearted child thou art! My fatherDurst better have endur’d cold iron than done it.I love him beyond love and beyond reason,Or wit, or safety. I have made him know it.I care not, I am desperate. If the lawFind me, and then condemn me for’t, some wenches,Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge,And tell to memory my death was noble,Dying almost a martyr. That way he takesI purpose is my way too. Sure he cannotBe so unmanly as to leave me here.

If he do, maids will not so easilyTrust men again. And yet he has not thank’d meFor what I have done; no, not so much as kiss’d me;And that, methinks, is not so well; nor scarcelyCould I persuade him to become a freeman,He made such scruples of the wrong he didTo me and to my father. Yet I hope,When he considers more, this love of mineWill take more root within him. Let him doWhat he will with me, so he use me kindly,For use me so he shall, or I’ll proclaim him,And to his face, no man. I’ll presentlyProvide him necessaries, and pack my clothes up,And where there is a path of ground I’ll venture,So he be with me. By him, like a shadow,I’ll ever dwell. Within this hour the whoobubWill be all o’er the prison. I am thenKissing the man they look for. Farewell, father;Get many more such prisoners and such daughters,And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him!

Two Noble Kinsmen: Shakespeare (3) Jailer’s Daughter: He has mistook the brake I meant, is goneAfter his fancy. ’Tis now well-nigh morning;No matter, would it were perpetual night,And darkness lord o’ th’ world! Hark, ’tis a wolf!In me hath grief slain fear, and but for one thing,I care for nothing, and that’s Palamon.I reak not if the wolves would jaw me, soHe had this file. What if I hallow’d for him?I cannot hallow. If I whoop’d, what then?If he not answer’d, I should call a wolf,And do him but that service. I have heardStrange howls this livelong night; why may’t not beThey have made prey of him? He has no weapons,He cannot run, the jingling of his gyvesMight call fell things to listen, who have in themA sense to know a man unarm’d, and canSmell where resistance is. I’ll set it downHe’s torn to pieces. They howl’d many together,And then they fed on him. So much for that,

Be bold to ring the bell. How stand I then?All’s char’d when he is gone. No, no, I lie:My father’s to be hang’d for his escape,Myself to beg, if I priz’d life so muchAs to deny my act, but that I would not,Should I try death by dozens. I am mop’d:Food took I none these two days—Sipp’d some water. I have not clos’d mine eyesSave when my lids scour’d off their brine. Alas,Dissolve, my life, let not my sense unsettleLest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself.O state of nature, fail together in me,Since thy best props are warp’d! So which way now?The best way is, the next way to a grave;Each errant step beside is torment. LoThe moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech-owlCalls in the dawn! All offices are doneSave what I fail in. But the point is this—

Two Noble Kinsmen: Shakespeare (4) Jailer’s Daughter:I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,The little stars and all, that look like aglets.The sun has seen my folly. Palamon!Alas, no; he’s in heaven. Where am I now?Yonder’s the sea, and there’s a ship. How’t tumbles!And there’s a rock lies watching under water;Now, now, it beats upon it—now, now, now!There’s a leak sprung, a sound one. How they cry!Open her before the wind! You’ll lose all else.Up with a course or two, and tack about, boys!Good night, good night, y’ are gone. I am very hungry:Would I could find a fine frog! he would tell meNews from all parts o’ th’ world. Then would I makeA carreck of a cockleshell, and sailBy east and north-east to the King of Pigmies,For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,Twenty to one, is truss’d up in a triceTomorrow morning; I’ll say never a word.

Sing.“For I’ll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,And I’ll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine e’e.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.He s’ buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,And I’ll go seek him through the world that is so wide.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.”O for a prick now, like a nightingale,To put my breast against! I shall sleep like a top else.

Winter’s Tale: Shakespeare Paulina: What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boilingIn leads or oils? What old or newer tortureMust I receive, whose every word deservesTo taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny,Together working with thy jealousies(Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idleFor girls of nine), O, think what they have done,And then run mad indeed—stark mad! for allThy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.That thou betrayedst Polixenes, ’twas nothing—That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,And damnable ingrateful; nor was’t muchThou wouldst have poison’d good Camillo’s honor,To have him kill a king—poor trespasses,More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckonThe casting forth to crows thy baby-daughterTo be or none or little—though a devilWould have shed water out of fire ere done’t;Nor is’t directly laid to thee, the deathOf the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts

(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heartThat could conceive a gross and foolish sireBlemish’d his gracious dam; this is not, no,Laid to thy answer: but the last—O lords,When I have said, cry “Woe!”—the Queen, the Queen,The sweet’st, dear’st creature’s dead, and vengeance for’tNot dropp’d down yet.I say she’s dead; I’ll swear’t. If word nor oathPrevail not, go and see. If you can bringTincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,Heat outwardly or breath within, I’ll serve youAs I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!Do not repent these things, for they are heavierThan all thy woes can stir; therefore betake theeTo nothing but despair. A thousand knees,Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,Upon a barren mountain, and still winterIn storm perpetual, could not move the godsTo look that way thou wert.

California Suite: Neil SimonStu: You call this a vacation? I had a better vacation when I had my hernia operation… I’m sick of your face. I’m sick of your twelve-cent cigars. After three weeks, my clothes smell like they’ve been in a humidor. I’m sick of your breakfasts. I’m sick of your lightly buttered rye toast and eggs over lightly every single morning. Would it kill you to have a waffle once in a while? One stinkin’ little waffle for my sake? We did everything you wanted. You made all the decisions. You took all the pictures. I didn’t get to take one picture with my own camera. You picked all the restaurants—nine Japanese restaurants in three weeks. I am nauseated at the sight of watching you eat tempura with your shoes off. A year I planned for this vacation. You know what I got to show for it? Two purple Hawaiian shirts for my kids that you picked out. Even Hawaiians wouldn’t wear them. I’ve had enough! I want to go home! I’m a nervous wreck… I need a vacation.

Beyond Therapy: Christopher Durang

Stuart: Hello. What's on your mind this week? Dammit, I don't feel like dragging the words out of you this week. You pay me to listen so talk, damn it. (pause) I'm sorry, I'm on edge today. All my patients are this way. None of them talk. Well this one guy talks, but he talks in Yiddish a lot, and I don't know what the hell he's saying. How was your week? Another series of lonely, loveless evenings. I'm still here, babe. Just kidding. Now, we're reaching the richest part of our therapy and already I see results. But I think you're entering a very uncharted part of your life just now, and so you must stay with your therapy. You're going out with homosexuals, God knows what you're going to do next. Now I'm very serious. I'm holding out the life line. Don't turn away. You're a very sick woman, and you mustn't be without a therapist even for a day. What do you mean your discontinuing your therapy? You're obviously afraid of a real man. You go ahead and leave me, and you know what's going to happen to you without therapy? You're going to become a very pathetic, very lonely old maid. You know what's going to happen to you? You're going to break off with that clown in a few days, and then you're not going to go out with men anymore at all. Your emotional life is going to be tied up with your cats. You're gonna end up taking little boat cruises to Bermuda with your cats and with spinster librarians when you're fifty unless you decide to kill yourself before then! And all because you were too cowardly and self-destructive and stupid to keep yourself from being an old maid by sticking with your therapy. You're a terrible, terrible patient.

Brighton Beach Memoirs: Neil Simon

Eugene: "That*s-what-they-have-gutters-for". . . (to audience) If my mother knew I was writing all this down, she would stuff me like one of her chickens. . . I’d better explain what she meant by Aunt Blanche’s "situation" . . .You see, her husband, Uncle Dave, died six years ago from . . . (He looks around.).., this thing. . . They never say the word. They always whisper it. It was — (He whispers. ) — Cancer! . . . I think they’re afraid if they said it out loud, God would say, "I HEARD THAT! YOU SAID THE DREAD DISEASE! (He points finger down.) JUST FOR THAT, I SMITE YOU DOWN WITH IT! !" ... There are some things that grown-ups just won’t discuss ... For example, my grandfather. He died from — (He whispers.) — Diptheria! . . . Anyway, after Uncle Dave died, he left Aunt Blanche with no money. Not even insurance. . . And she couldn’t support herself because she has—(He whispers.) Asthma. So my big-hearted mother insisted we take her and her kids in to live with us. So they broke up our room into two small rooms and me and my brother Stan live on this side, and Laurie and her sister Nora live on the other side. My father thought it would just be temporary but it’s been three and a half years so far and I think because of Aunt Blanche’s situation, my father is developing —(He whispers. ) — High blood pressure! My cousin Laurie has a "flutter in her heart." Because of her "condition," I have to do twice as much work around here... Boy, if I could just make the Yankees, I’d be in St. Petersburg this winter. . . Her sister Nora isn’t too bad. She’s sixteen. I don’t mind her much. At least she’s not too bad to look at. To be absolutely honest, this is the year I started noticing girls that weren’t too bad to look at... Nora started developing about eight months ago ... I have the exact date written in my diary.

Jake’s Women: Neil SimonJake: What you have just witnessed is a man at the end of his rope… with nothing to hold on to because his wife took the rope with her…. It’s been six months since Maggie left and I haven’t been dating, now, the truth, I miss Maggie but recently here in the privacy of my home, my mind and my thoughts, I was visited by a new and fresher hell than my warped imaginations could ever dream of… No longer did I summon up Karens and Ediths and Mollys of my life to help brighten up the endless sleepless nights… Now they came on their own. Uninvited. Unsummoned. Unstoppable. The thing about going crazy is that it makes you incredibly smart, in a stupid sort of way. But I do feel like I’m losing a grip on myself. As if I’m spiraling down in diminishing circles like water being drained from a bathtub, and suddenly my big toes is being sucked down into the hole and I’m screaming for my life… No. Not my life. My mother… Why, tell me why, it’s always your mother. It’s never you father or an uncle or a second cousin from Detroit … Anyways, I have a feeling I’m trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle that has no picture on it… I’m a blank, waiting to fill in who I am … How did I get to be this way?... That’s not a rhetorical question. I mean, if you know, please tell me…

Lone Star: James McLureRoy: Did I ever tell you about the time Wayne and me went to Bossier City, Louisiana? Bossier City! Bossier City! Kinda got a sound to it, don't it? Bossier City! Babylon on the Red River! Sin. Hot women. Sticky summer nights. The biggest strip of night clubs 'tween Vegas and Miami Beach! Bossier City! Bandits! Prostitutes! Drunken driving! All the things that make life worth living. One summer morning in 1967 Wayne said to me, "Roy, we can either get drunk here in Maynard or we can get drunk in Bossier City!" So we drove to Louisiana! And I mean, Ray, as soon as we got there, wham! Just like that things started to happen! We got kicked out of The Ace's Lounge for fighting. We started them. Then! At the Swamp Club, Wayne tried to pick up these two Italian girls. Well, their boyfriends didn't like that one little bit. And let me tell you something, Ray. If you're ever in that part of the world, don't ever get involved with no Louisiana Eye-talians. There ain't nothin' worse than the Southern Mafia! The Italians pullout their knives, and me and Wayne run back to the truck to get my shotgun. But then the Eye-talian guys pull out their guns and start shootin' at us! But we made it back to the truck, and while Wayne backs the truck out of the parking lot I fired out the window at the Eye-talians. Wayne backed up into one car, hits a fence, and then as he's leaving the parking lot he side-swipes an oncoming Lincoln Continental. We had ourselves a time. Anyway, me and Wayne ended up in Kim's Lounge. And Wayne begins to sweet talk this girl down at the end of the bar. And pretty soon he's taking this girl out to the pickup truck. He told me it wouldn't take long. So I ordered another drink. Then, in about five minutes old Wayne comes back in as white as a sheet and says: "Roy, let's get the hell out of Bossier City." So we did. But after only six hours on the Bossier Strip we had ourselves two flghts, two car wrecks, had a gun battle with the Southern Mafla, and Wayne Wilder had french-kissed a man in a dress! (Pause.lifting beer.) So Wayne, down in Huntsville-here's to you boy.

This is How it Is: Bryan Patrick Moses

David: You want to make an ass out of yourself? You don’t know if she is even interested in you. What are you going to do? Nothing. She’s not your type. Man, trust me on this. All right. She’s not your type. Look at how she’s dressed. You see that? She’s not your type. A girl like that? Come on. How long have you known me? (pause) Right. About four years, right? Now, in these past four years, how many girls have you dated that’ve dressed like that? Huh? (pause) That’s right. None. Now, the girls I’ve dated, right? How many have dressed like her? There you go. You really don’t get this, do you? Look at her. She wants me. Okay? Get that? She wants me. You see, I have the power. The ball is totally in my court. Right now, she is sitting there wondering, “Why the hell doesn’t he come over here?” And what’s great is, that this makes her want me more. You see, Sam, I know women. Plain and simple. I’m not one of those poor slobs who sits around and says, “I don’t understand women.” There have been medical studies that say this and that about how women and men think differently. I might buy that, because they’re talking about mathematical skills, crap like that. But when it comes to romance, women and men think exactly the same. The only difference is men will tell you what they think, while women will hide it. But since I’m so trained in these things, I’ve been able to get women to reveal everything, while I reveal nothing. You see, women hide their desires, or at least try to, but men don’t. That’s why women have the power in this world. I’m talking the real power, now, not that running the country crap. But, you see, I have broken their code. They’re defenseless. I have the power!

The Heidi Chronicles: Wendy Wasserstein

Scoop: You really don’t understand, do you? But I can explain. Let’s say we married and I asked you to devote the, say, next ten years of your life to secure that I could with some confidence go out into the world each day and attempt to get an “A.” You’d say, “No.” You’d say, “Why can’t we be partners? Why can’t we both go out into the world and get an ‘A’?” And you’d be absolutely valid and correct. But Lisa? She’s the best I can do. Is she an “A+” like you? No. But I don’t want to come home to an “A+.” “A-“ maybe, but not “A+.” I’m sorry, Heidella. But I couldn’t dangle you anymore. And that’s why I got married today. So. On a scale of one to ten, if you aim for six and get six, everything will work out nicely. But if you aim for ten in all things and you get six, you’re going to be very disappointed. And unfortunately, that’s why you “quality time” girls are going to be one generation of disappointed women. Interesting, exemplary, even sexy, but basically unhappy. I’m sorry I disappointed you.

Dog Sees God: Bert V RoyalBeethoven: Fuck you, CB! I’d rather you say ‘we beat the shit out of you because we can’t stand you’ than to say you’re just‘messing’ with me! That implies light teasing or slightly opprobrious behavior. I haven’t had lunch in the cafeteria in two and a half years for fear of going home with some part of it smeared across my shirt! I haven’t been in a bathroom on campus since the time my head got slammed into the wall.I believe you were there. Oh, you didn’t do that? Yeah?! Well, you didn’t stop it either!! And the faculty doesn’t care. You know what I’m so sick of hearing?: ‘They only pick on you because of their own insecurities.’ The classic guidance counselor line! ‘Oh geez, Mrs. Blank, since you put it that way, my head doesn’t hurt so much anymore!’ And what really kills me is that everybody wonders why kids bring guns to school and shoot you fuckers down. Maybe you’re not the bully, but you stand idly by and watch. In my eyes that makes you even worse. So -- Please. Just. Go.And, by the way, how does one act gay? By playing the piano? Oh it must be all those times I ogle the football team. Maybe I’ll stop carrying around a pink purse. Or openly sucking dick in plain view of the entire student body! What?!! What is it?!?!? I don’t want to talk to you!!! I just want to be left alone!! I don’t need social pointers. All I need from you is an apology for the five minutes that you’ve stolen from my day!!

Dog Sees God: Bert V Royal (1)CB: Dear penpal. I know it’s been a few years since I last wrote you. I hope you’re still there. I’m not sure you ever were. I never got any letters back from you when I was a kid. But in a way it was always very therapeutic. Everyone else judges everything I say. And here you are: some anonymous person who never says “boo.” Maybe you just read my letters and laughed or maybe you didn’t read my letters or maybe you don’t even exist. It was pretty frustrating when I was young, but now I’m glad that you won’t respond. Just listen. That’s what I want. (Beat.) My dog died. I don’t know if you remember, but I had a beagle. He was a good dog. My best friend. I’d had him as far back as I could remember, but one day last month, I went out to feed him and he didn’t come bounding out of his red doghouse like usual. I called his name. But no response. I knelt down and called out his name. Still nothing. I looked in the doghouse and there was blood everywhere. Cowering in the corner was my dog. His eyes were wild and there was an excessive amount of saliva coming out of his mouth. He was unrecognizable. He looked both frightened and frightening at the same time. The blood belonged to a little yellow bird that had always been around. My dog and the bird used to play together. In a strange way, it was almost like they were best friends. I know that sounds stupid, but... Anyway, the bird had been mangled. Ripped apart. By my dog. When he saw that I could see what he’d done, his face changed to sadness and he let out a sound that felt like the word “help.” I reached my hand into his doghouse. I know it was a dumb thing to do, but he looked like he needed me. His jaws snapped and I jerked my hand away before he could bite me. We called a center and they came and took him away. Later that day, they put him to sleep. They gave me his corpse in a cardboard box. When my dog died, that was when the raincloud came back and everything went to hell...

Dog Sees God: Bert V Royal (2)CB: God. This is really embarrassing. (Pause.) My dog died. He got rabies. They, um, had to put him under. I looked up rabies on the internet. It’s an acute viral infection. It’s transmitted through infected saliva. I guess he must have been bitten by something that had it. Maybe a fox or a raccoon. Bats can have it too. It travels from the bite to the spinal cord and the brain. Then the victim gets a really high fever and uncontrollable excitement, then spasms of the throat muscles. That’s what causes them to salivate. They can’t swallow water. Another word for the infection is ‘hydrophobia,’ which of course means ‘fear of water.’ Can you imagine not being able to swallow? That must suck. (Beginning to ramble) It’s weird. We had him vaccinated when he was a puppy. I guess it doesn’t always work. (Beat.) We had a funeral for him. Well, my sister and me did. I think I was supposed to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just stood there, frozen, like an idiot. I couldn’t think of a fucking thing. My brain went numb and that’s never happened to me before. I mean, there’s always something going on up there, right? Even in the subconscious. My head was completely blank and it was so uncomfortable. People meditate to clear their minds. I don’t get that. I don’t ever want to have a clear mind again. It made me feel faint. I guess I was thinking, by burying him, that I’d have some closure or feel his presence there or something and I didn’t and that just freaked me out, so I don’t know. I mean, have you ever had someone close to you die and you can’t stop thinking about them and what’s appened to them? It’s like you’re stuck in this morbid place and death is the only thing you can think about and you feel like your head is going to explode and it makes you think that you’re not even there. That maybe you’re dead, too.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof: Tennesee Williams

Brick: All right. You're askin' for it, Big Daddy. We're finally goin' to have that real, true talk you wanted. It's too late to stop it now, we got to carry it through an' cover ev'ry subject. Maggie declares that Skipper an' I went into pro football after we left Ole Miss because we were scared to grow up, wanted to keep on tossin' those long long, high, high passes that couldn't be intercepted except by time, th' aerial attack that made us famous! An' so we did, we did, we kept it up for one season, that aerial attack. We held it high! Yeah, but--that summer Maggie, she laid down the law to me--she said now or never, and so I married Maggie. She went on the road that fall with th' Dixie Stars. Oh, she made a great show of bein' the world's best sport. She wore a tall bearskin cap! A shake, they call it, a dyed moleskin coat, a moleskin coat dyed red. Cut up crazy! Rented hotel ball rooms for victory celebrations, wouldn't cancel 'em when it turned out---defeat. Maggie the cat! But Skipper, he had some fever which came back on him which the doctors couldn't explain, an' I got that injury--turned out to be just a shadow on th' X-ray plate, an' a touch of bursitis. I lay in a hospital bed, watched our games on TV, saw Maggie on the bench next to Skipper when he was hauled out of the game for stumbles, fumbles!--burned me up the way she hung on his arm! Y'know I think that Maggie had always felt sort of left out, so she took this time to work on poor dumb Skipper! Poured in his mind the dirty, false idea that what we were, him an' me was a frustrated case of ole sissyboys like Jack Straw an' Peter Ochello! He, poor Skipper, went to bed with Maggie to prove it wasn't true, an' when it didn't work out, he thought it was true! Skipper broke in two like a rotten stick--nobody ever turned so fast into a lush--or died of it so quick. Now--are you satisfied?

The Gingerbread Lady: Neil Simon

Jimmy: I'm okay, I'm not upset anymore. I'm alright...I know my leg is shaking, but I'm alright. They pushed the opening of the show back one night...It's opening Tuesday instead of Monday. It's also another actor, instead of me. They fired me. The little son of a bitch fired me three nights before the opening. Fired by a nineteen-year-old producer from Oklahoma A & M...Look at that leg. Do you realize the tension that must be going on in my body right now? If he didn't like me, why'd he hire me in the first place, heh?... The entire cast is shocked. Shocked. Three night before the opening. He didn't even get somebody else to tell me. He wanted to tell me himself...He stood there with a little smile on his Goddamned baby face and said, "Sorry, Jimmy, it's just not working out.".... Three night before the opening. My name was in the Sunday Times ad. I've got eighteen relatives from Paterson, New Jersey, coming to the opening. Six of them already sent me telegrams...My Aunt Rosario sent me a Candygram, I already ate the Goddamned candy. Everybody in the cast wanted to walk out on the show, I wouldn't let them. Even the director was crazy about me...I can't breathe, I can't catch my breath, I'm so upset...I gotta calm down, I'll be alright. You know how it feels for a grown man to plead and beg to a child? A child!... I said to him, "You're not happy, I'll do it any way you want. Faster, slower, louder, I'll wear a dress, I'll shave my head, I'll relieve myself on the stage in front of my own family, I'm an actor, give me a chance to act.".... He turned his back on me and shoved a Tootsie Roll in his mouth. It's the worst piece of crap every put on a stage. That's why I'm so humiliated. To get fired from a piece of garbage like that, who's gonna want me for something good? Do you know who they gave my part o? The understudy. He's not even a full-time actor, he drives a cab in the day...A Puerto Rican cab driver. Can't speak English. He go me coffee the first two weeks, now he's got my part...Look how my neck is throbbing. That's blood pumping into the brain, I'm gonna have a hemorrhage. What am I going to tell my family in Jersey? My sister's taking my twelve-year-old niece, her first time in the theatre, never saw me on the stage, she's gonna think she's got a Puerto Rican uncle...I was thinking maybe I wouldn't tell anyone. Opening night I'll show up in the theatre, walk out on the stage, two of us will play the same part, one in Spanish, one in English, the critics will love it. Look at my fingers. There's no color in the nails. That's a hemorrhage. I'm having a Goddamned hemorrhage and I can't find it. What the hell difference does it make? What am I going to do? I'm not going to make it, I'm never going to make it in this business. Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with Liberty.

The Glass Menagerie: Tennesee Williams

Jim: I’m glad to see you have a sense of humor. You know - you’re – different than anybody else I know? Do you mind me telling you that? I mean it. You make me feel sort of – I don’t know how to say it! I’m usually pretty good at expressing things, but – this is something I don’t know how to say! Did anybody ever tell you that you were pretty? Well, you are! And in a different way from anyone else. And all the nicer because of the difference. Oh, boy , I wish that you were my sister. I’d teach you to have confidence in yourself. Being different is nothing to be ashamed of. Because other people aren’t such wonderful people. They’re a hundred times one thousand. You’re one times one! They walk all over the earth. You just stay here. They’re as common as – weeds, but - you, well you’re a rose! It’s right for you! – You’re pretty! You’re pretty in all respects – your eyes – your hair. Your hands are pretty! You think I’m saying this because I’m invited to dinner and have to be nice. Oh, I could do that! I could say lots of things without being sincere. But I’m talking to you sincerely. I happened to notice you had this inferiority complex that keeps you from feeling comfortable with people. Somebody ought to build your confidence up – way up! And make you proud instead of shy and turning away and – blushing - . Somebody – ought to – somebody ought to – kiss you Laura! (Awkward pause) … Laura, you know, if I had a sister like you, I’d do the same things as Tom. I’d bring fellows home to meet you. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this. That may not have been the idea in having me over. But what if it was? There’s nothing wrong with that. – The only trouble is that in my case – I’m not in a position to ---- I can’t ask for your number and say I’ll phone. I can’t call up next week end – ask for a date. I thought I had better explain the situation in case you – misunderstood and I hurt your feelings… You see, I’ve – got strings on me. Laura, I’ve – been going steady! I go out all the time with a girl named Betty. Oh, she’s a nice quiet home girl like you, and Catholic and Irish, and in a great many ways we – get along fine. I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip up the river to Alton, on the Majestic. Well – right away from the start it was – love! Oh, boy, being in love has made a new man of me! The power of love is pretty tremendous! Love is something that – changes the whole world. I happened that Betty’s aunt took sick and she got a wire and had to go to Centralia. So naturally when Tom asked me to dinner – naturally I accepted the invitation, not knowing – I mean – not knowing. I wish that you would – say something. Well… I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m rushing off. But I promised Betty I’d pick her up at the Wabash depot an’ by the time I get my jalopy down there her train’ll be in. Some women are pretty upset if you keep them waiting. Good-bye, Laura. And don’t you forget the good advice I gave you.

Death of a Salesman: Arthur Miller

Biff: All right, phony! Then let’s lay it on the line. (Anger building up) You are going to hear the truth about us-what you are and what I am! Willy, you don’t know who we are! We never told the truth for ten minutes in this house! You’re practically full of it! We all are! And I’m through with it. Now hear this, Willy, this is me. You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was in jail. I stole myself out of every job since high school! And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is! It’s about goddam time that you have heard this! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I’m through with it! (More frustrated with Willy) Listen, Willy, listen! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw-the sky. I saw the things that I love in this world. The work and the food and time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am! Why can’t I say that, Willy? (Becomes more emotional) Pop! I’m only a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash can like all the rest of them! I’m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn’t raise it. A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning! I’m not bringing home any prizes anymore, and you’re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home! (Biff falls to knees and starts crying) Will you let me go, for Christ’s sake? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens? (Stands up and tries to pull himself together) I’ll go in the morning. Put him-put him to bed

All My Sons: Arthur MillerChris: Dad...you did it? (Shocked but keeping voice down) You did it to the others? You sent out a hundred and twenty cracked engine-heads and let those boys die! How could you do that? How? (Voice rises with anger) Dad...Dad, you killed twenty-one men! You killed them, you murdered them. (Becomes more furious) Explain it to me. Explain to me how you do it? What did you do? (Pause) Explain it to me goddammit or I will tear you to pieces! I want to know what you did, now what did you do? You had a hundred and twenty cracked engine-heads, now what did you do? Why'd you ship them out in the first place? If you knew they were cracked, then why didn't you tell them? (Relatively long pause, becomes more disgustedl) You knew they wouldn't hold up in the air. You knew that those planes would come crashing down. Were you going to warn them not to use them? Why the hell did you let them out of the factory? (Pause) You were afraid maybe! God in heaven, what kind of a man are you? Kids were hanging in the air by those heads. You knew that, and yet you did nothing about it! (Startled) You did it for me? You wanted to save the business for me? (With burning fury) For me! Where do you live, where have you come from? For me!-I was dying every day and you were killing my boys and you did it for me? What the hell do you think I was thinking of, the Goddam business? Is that as far as your mind can see, the business? What is that, the world-the business? What the hell do you mean, you did it for me? Don't you have a country? Don't you live in the world? What the hell are you? You're not even an animal, no animal kills his own, what are you? What must I do to you? I ought to tear the tongue out of your mouth! What must I do? (Begins to weep) What must I do, Jesus God, what must I do?

The Crucible: Arthur MillerRev Hale: The sun will rise in a few minutes. There are orphans wandering from house to house; abandoned cattle bellow on the highroads, the stink of rotting crops hangs everywhere, and no man knows when the harlots’ cry will end his life-and you wonder yet if rebellion’s spoke? Better you should marvel how they do not burn your province! You ask why I have come here!?(Frustrated, pause, then sarcastically) I come to do the Devil’s work. I come to counsel Christians they should belie themselves. (His sarcasm collapses.) There is blood on my head! Can you not see the blood on my head!! (Now speaks to a woman) Your husband is marked to hang this morning. I come on my own. I would save your husband’s life, for if he is taken I count myself his murderer. Do you understand me? Let you not mistake your duty as I mistook my own. I came into this village like a bridegroom to his beloved, bearing gifts of high religion; the very crowns of holy law I brought, and what I touched with my bright confidence, it died; and where I turned the eye of my great faith, blood flowed up. Beware; cleave to no faith when faith brings blood. If is mistaken law that leads you to sacrifice. Life, woman, life is God’s most precious gift; no principle, however glorious, may justify the taking of it. I beg you, woman, prevail upon you husband to confess. Let him give his lie. Quail not before God’s judgment in this, for it may well be God damns a liar less than he that throws his life away for pride. Will you plead with him? I cannot think he will listen to another.

Biloxi Blues: Neil SimonArnold: I was in the latrine alone. I spent four hours cleaning it, on my hands and knees. It looked better than my mother*s bathroom at home. Then these two non-coins come in, one was the cook, that three hundred pound guy and some other slob, with cigar butts in their mouths and reeking from beer. . . They come in to pee only instead of using the urinal, they use one of the johns, both peeing in the same one, making circles, figure-eights. Then they start to walk out and I say, "Hey, I just cleaned that. Please flush the johns." And the big one, the cook, says to me, "Up your ass, rookie," or some other really clever remark . . And I block the doorway and I say, "There*s a printed order on the wall signed by Captain Landon stating the regulations that all facilities must be flushed after using" . . . And I*m requesting that they follow regulations, since I was left in charge, and to please flush the facility.. . And the big one says to me, "Suppose you flush it, New York Jew Kike," and I said my ethnic heritage notwithstanding, please flush the facility. . . They look at each other, this half a ton of brainless beef and suddenly rush me, turn me upside down, grab my ankles and — and — and they lowered me by my feet with my head in the toilet, in their filth, their poison . . . all the way until I couldn*t breathe.. . then they pulled off my belt and tied my feet on to the ceiling pipes with my head still in their foul waste and tied my hands behind my back with dirty rags, and they left me there, hanging like a pig that was going to be slaughtered . . . I wasn*t strong enough to fight back. I couldn*t do it alone. No one came to help me... Then the pipe broke and I fell to the ground.. . It took me twenty minutes to get myself untied... Twenty minutes! . . . But it will take me the rest of my life to wash off my humiliation. I was degraded. I lost my dignity. If I stay, Gene, if they put a gun in my hands, one night, I swear to God, I*ll kill them both. .. I*m not a murderer. I don’t want to disgrace my family...But I have to get out of here....Now do you understand?

Love’s Labour’s Lost: Shakespeare Breowne: Here stand I—lady, dart thy skill at me.Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout,Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance,Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit,And I will wish thee nevermore to dance,Nor nevermore in Russian Habit wait;O, never will I trust speeches to be penned,Nor to the motion of a school boy’s tongue,Nor never come in vizard to my friend,Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song.Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,Figures pedantical—these summer fliesHave blown me full of maggot ostentation.I do forswear them, and I here protestBy this white glove (how white the hand God knows)Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expressedIn russet yeas and honest kersey noes.And to begin, wench—so God help me, la!

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

Richard III: Shakespeare Richard: Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft! I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no! alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself! I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.

Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; And if I die, no soul shall pity me: Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent; and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

Medea: EuridipesJason: Often and often ere now I have observed that an intractable nature is a curse almost impossible to deal with. So with you, Medea. When you might have stayed on this land and in this house by submitting quietly to the wishes of your superiors, your forward tongue got you expelled from the country. Not that your abuse troubles me at all. Keep on saying that Jason is a villain of the deepest dye. But for you insolence to to royalty consider yourself more than fortunate that you are only being punished by exile. I was constantly mollifying the angry monarch and expressing the wish that you be allowed to stay. But in unabated folly you keep on reviling the king. That is why you are expelled.But still, despite everything, I come here now with unwearied goodwill, to contrive on your behalf, Madam, that you and the children will not leave this country lacking money or anything else. Exile brings many hardships in its wake. And even if you do hate me, I could never think cruelly of you.