xxpinkieswearxx (xxpinkieswearxx) wrote,
xxpinkieswearxx
xxpinkieswearxx

Monologue Situation

Gah! I have to preapare a monologue for tomarrow, these are the monologues I've narrowed it down to!


ALWAYS RIDICULOUS

A monologue from the play by Jose Echegaray

REMEDIOS: You may say what you like, Don Cosme, I can't agree that Teresina is quite as complex as you think she is, and I'm certainly not subject to illusions. I know the World; I'm not an ingenuous child; I say I'm not because, good Lord! no widow has any business to be one. Although I must admit that as far as years go, and in looks and manner, I am still something of a child. But that's because of certain characteristics. Don't you think so? Why don't you speak? You understand my character? [Turning toward DON COSME and looking carefully at him.] Good Lord! the man's asleep again! Up at ten this morning, it's now eleven. And he sleeps! No, sir! I must have somebody to talk to. Teresina is in the garden flirting with the two of them--spinning like a planet between her two poles, Juan and Eugenio. Don Pablo has gone on his usual walk. Don Hilarion? No one knows where he is! Here I am left alone with Don Cosme, and he sleeps, leaving me in full monologue. I won't stand it! I came to this house on the express condition that I should not be bored, and the condition is not being fulfilled. The place is beautiful--Art, Oh! plenty of Art--pictures, tapestry, statues, bronzes, porcelains; and Nature, Oh! a great deal of Nature, woods and flowers and lakes and water-falls and sunsets! But all that's not enough. There is no Life! No warmth! As they say nowadays, the warmth of humanity. And he goes on sleeping! This life is giving that man softening of the brain. Don Cosme! Oh, Don Cosme! [Striking him with her fan] Open your eyes!


AN IDEAL HUSBAND

A monologue from the play by Oscar Wilde

MABEL CHILTERN: Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio going on. I didn't dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I don't know what bimetallism means. And I don't believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a manner that attracts some attention.


IT'S A FAMILY AFFAIR--WE'LL SETTLE IT OURSELVES

A monologue from the play by Alexander Ostrovsky

LIPOCHKA: What a pleasant occupation these dances are! Very good indeed! What could be more delightful? You go to the assembly, or to somebody's wedding, you sit down, naturally, all beflowered like a doll or a magazine picture. Suddenly up runs a gentleman: "May I have the happiness, miss?" Well, you see, if he's a man of wit, or a military individual, you accept, drop your eyes a little, and answer: "If you please, with pleasure!" Ah! [Warmly] Most fas-ci-nat-ing! Simply beyond understanding! [Sighs] I dislike most of all dancing with students and government office clerks. But it's the real thing to dance with army men! Ah, charming! Ravishing! Their mustaches, and epaulets, and uniforms, and on some of them even spurs with little bits of bells. Only it's killingly tiresome that they don't wear a sabre. Why do they take it off? It's strange, plague take it! The soldiers themselves don't understand how much more fascinatingly they'd shine! If they were to take a look at the spurs, the way they tinkle, especially if a uhlan or some colonel or other is showing off--wonderful! It's just splendid to look at them--lovely! And if he'd just fasten on a sabre, you'd simply never see anything more delightful, you'd just hear rolling thunder instead of the music. Now, what comparison can there be between a soldier and a civilian? A soldier! Why, you can see right off his cleverness and everything. But what does a civilian amount to? Just a dummy. [Silence] I wonder why it is that so many ladies sit down with their feet under their chairs. There's positively no difficulty in learning how! Although I was a little bashful before the teacher, I learned to do it perfectly in twenty lessons. Why not learn how to dance? It's only a superstition not to. Here mamma sometimes gets angry because the teacher is always grabbing at my knees. All that comes from lack of education. What of it? He's a dancing-master and not somebody else. [Reflecting] I picture to myself: suddenly a soldier makes advances to me, suddenly a solemn betrothal, candles burn everywhere, the butlers enter, wearing white gloves; I, naturally, in a tulle or perhaps in a gauze gown; then suddenly they begin to play a waltz--but how confused I shall be before him! Ah, what a shame! Then where in the world shall I hide? What will he think? "Here," he'll say, "an uneducated little fool!" But, no, how can that be! Only, you see I haven't danced for a year and a half! I'll try it now at leisure. [Waltzing badly] One--two--three; one--two--three . . .


A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE

A monologue from the play by Oscar Wilde

MRS. ALLONBY: The Ideal Man! Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of our whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says. He should never run down other pretty women. That would show he had no taste, or make one suspect that he had too much. No; he should be nice about them all, but say that somehow they don't attract him. If we ask him a question about anything, he should give us an answer all about ourselves. He should invariably praise us for whatever qualities he knows we haven't got. But he should be pitiless, quite pitiless, in reproaching us for the virtues that we have never dreamed of possessing. He should never believe that we know the use of useful things. That would be unforgivable. But he should shower on us everything we don't want. He should persistently compromise us in public, and treat us with absolute respect when we are alone. And yet he should be always ready to have a perfectly terrible scene, whenever we want one, and to become miserable, absolutely miserable, at a moment's notice, and to overwhelm us with just reproaches in less than twenty minutes, and to be positively violent at the end of half an hour, and to leave us for ever at a quarter to eight, when we have to go and dress for dinner. And when, after that, one has seen him for really the last time, and he has refused to take back the little things he has given one, and promised never to communicate with one again, or to write one any foolish letters, he should be perfectly broken-hearted, and telegraph to one all day long, and send one little notes every half-hour by a private hansom, and dine quite alone at the club, so that every one should know how unhappy he was. And after a whole dreadful week, during which one has gone about everywhere with one's husband, just to show how absolutely lonely one was, he may be given a third last parting, in the evening, and then, if his conduct has been quite irreproachable, and one has behaved really badly to him, he should be allowed to admit that he has been entirely in the wrong, and when he has admitted that, it becomes a woman's duty to forgive, and one can do it all over again from the beginning, with variations.



SCUBA LESSONS

A monologue from the play by Joseph Zeccola

KELLY: Did you ever wake up and know it was gonna be your day? I did. Today. First time. I woke up five minutes before my alarm went off. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, I felt warm all over and then... ... I read my horoscope. “Today is your day!!! What you dreamed about becomes real. Romance figures prominently. Musical notes involved.” Okay--I don’t get the musical notes thing either--but that’s not the point. The point is it said today is my day. And it has been--all day!!! I got on the scale--I was five pounds thinner, and that was after getting out of the shower. On my way out the door, my manager tells me he’s going to fix the broken closet in my apartment I reported six months ago. Normally I wouldn’t believe it, because I have rotten luck. But I’ve had this feeling all day. And that’s leaving out the best part of my horoscope: “Romance figures Prominently.” [She looks around the cafe.] He’s not here yet. Martin. My date. Actually it’s a blind date. Both Dan and I have blind dates tonight. Which would normally scare me. To tell the truth I was terrified. Until this morning. I know, I know--what are the odds of finding Mr. Right on a blind date? I mean, someone who would count on that is an optimist, at best. At worst ... well--let’s not go there. I’m being an optimist. I have faith. You know my luck is actually worse with men. Until recently I’ve been convinced I have bad guy-karma. Which is why I told Dan to meet his date here, too. I had a friend at work set us up. Raul. He’s gay. We decided to meet our dates at the same place just in case they were ugly. If I knew my day was gonna be like this, I would have told him to fend for himself. [Notices a mug on the merchandise rack. She picks it up.] Do you see what I mean?!! This is my favorite painting on this coffee mug. I was in here two days ago and they didn’t have this mug. This is like some giant cosmic accident. It’s fate. Did I tell you I found a parking space in less than five minutes. My favorite painting. "The Scream." Dan says only freaks like that painting. I think only tactless jerks call their friends freaks. [Looks over to DAN and RAYNE.] It looks like the jerk’s doing okay so far. He hasn’t pissed her off yet. She looks okay. Seems a little thin for Dan though. He’s Italian, they like those buxom women. Or at least he does. And he thinks he speaks for every guinea on the planet. He doesn’t like it when I call him a guinea. [Short pause] Guinea. Oh. That’s Dan. He likes me. But we’re not. No. I mean he’s sweet. We always do stuff like this together. Well not like this. We do things. We go to the movies. We go for walks--in the park or mountains. Sometimes we even hold hands. Sometimes we come here and get coffee. Well he gets coffee. I don’t like coffee. Or tea. Actually I hate tea; but, we’re just friends. It’s hard to explain. Dan and I ... ... we just--we wouldn’t get along. We bicker constantly. Dan calls me the ex-wife he never wanted. I call him evidence to the need for artificial insemination. [Pause.] He’s really not that bad. He’s just that bad for me. Dan just needs to find a woman who isn’t annoyed by him. And who isn’t meeting her soulmate tonight.






Desions, desions.
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