Monologues

I’m no Paula Deen I’m no Paula Dean but… I do have a stock pot big enough to deep fry a turkey. I’m no Paula Dean but…I do save all matters of bacon grease. I’m no Paula Dean but…I can fix you a glass of sweet that will make you wish you wore dentures. I’m no Paula Dean but…I do know butter cream frosting can be added to breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’m no Paula Dean but…my husband just got back from a fishing trip in the Gulf. He brought home a mess of fish

I never shall furgit the night when father hitched up Dobbin, An' all us youngsters clambered in an' up the road went bobbin' To school where we was kep' at work in every kind o' weather,

I will speak, if I can, whose sorrow rising still Clouds its own utterance. My liege, my son, Don Lope, loved a lady here; seduced her By no feign'd vows of marriage, but compell'd By me, who would not listen to a suit Without my leave contracted, put it off From day to day, until the lady, tired Of a delay that argued treachery, Engaged her brother in the quarrel; who With two companions set upon my son One night to murder him. The lad, whose metal Would never brook affront, nor cared for odds, Drew on all three; slew one--a homicide That

Listen, Gil. You, I am sure, remember (time and absence Cannot have washed so much from memory) The pleasant time when you were last at Lisbon, And graced my house by making it your home. I need not tell of all we did and talk'd, Save what concerns me now; of the fair lady You knew me then enamour'd of, (how deeply I need not say--being a Portuguese, Which saying, all is said)--Donna Juana, At whose mere name I tremble, as some seer Smit with the sudden presence of his God. Two years we lived in the security Of mutual love, with

"Once more the storm has roar'd itself away, Splitting the crags of God as it retires; But sparing still what it should only blast, This guilty piece of human handiwork, And all that are within it. Oh, how oft, How oft, within or here abroad, have I Waited, and in the whisper of my heart Pray'd for the slanting hand of heaven to strike The blow myself I dared not, out of fear Of that Hereafter, worse, they say, than here, Plunged headlong in, but, till dismissal waited, To wipe at last all sorrow from men's eyes, And make this heavy dispensation

Don Arias, I love Don Cesar with as whole a heart As ever. He and I from infancy Have grown together; as one single soul Our joys and sorrows shared; till finding him So wise and true, as to another self Myself, and my dominion to boot, I did intrust: you are his friend, and surely In honouring you I honour him as well. Besides, Arias, I know not how it is, For some while past a change has come on him; I know not what the cause: he is grown sad, Neglects his business--if I call to him, He hears me not,

Listen for the last time. You know how, sitting last night under the shelter of those white hairs in which my maiden youth had grown, those wretches, whose only law is force, stole upon us. He who had feigned that quarrel in our house, seizing and tearing me from your bosom as a lamb from the fold, carried me off; my own cries stifled, yours dying away behind me, and yet ringing in my ears like the sound of a trumpet that has ceased!--till here, where out of reach of pursuit,--all dark--the very moon lost from heaven--the wretch

Not to spare Your father even, Eugenia! For shame! 'Tis time to tie your roving tongue indeed. Consider, too, we are not in the country, Where tongue and eyes, Eugenia, may run wild Without offence to uncensorious woods; But in a city, with its myriad eyes Inquisitively turn'd to watch, and tongues As free and more malicious than yours To tell--where honour's monument is wax, And shame's of brass. I know, Eugenia, High spirits are not in themselves a crime; But if to men they seem so?--that's the question. For it is almost better to do ill With a good outward grace than well

Oh, my liege, Not in one breath Turn royal mercy into needless threat; Though it be true my bosom has so long This secret kept close prisoner, and hop'd To have it buried with me in my grave, Yet if I peril my own name and theirs By such a silence, I'll not leave to rumour Another hour's suspicion; but reveal To you, my liege, yea, and to heaven and earth, My most disastrous story. My father, though of lineage high and clear As the sun's self, was poor; and knowing well How in this world honour fares ill alone, Betroth'd the beauty of

Poor argument! I rather draw that he Who ventures on such desperate acts can have No true respect for her he outrages, And therefore no true love. No, daring traitor-- But I'll not strive to break the heart of flint, But wear it with my tears. Hear me, Alvaro, In pity--in mercy--hear me. This thing is done, there is no remedy, Let us not waste the time in arguing What better had been done; the stars so ruled it-- Yea, providence that rules the stars. Well then, What next? Alvaro, I would speak of this; And if't be right I owe you

Princes and warriors of Poland--you That stare on this unnatural sight aghast, Listen to one who, Heaven-inspired to do What in its secret wisdom Heaven forecast, By that same Heaven instructed prophet-wise To justify the present in the past. What in the sapphire volume of the skies Is writ by God's own finger misleads none, But him whose vain and misconstructed eyes, They mock with misinterpretation, Or who, mistaking what he rightly read, Ill commentary makes, or misapplies Thinking tno shirk or thwart it. Which has done The wisdom of this venerable head; Who, well provided with the secret key To that gold alphabet, himself

Rise, both of you, Rise to my arms, Astolfo and Estrella; As my two sisters' children always mine, Now more than ever, since myself and Poland Solely to you for our succession look'd. And now give ear, you and your several factions, And you, the Peers and Princes of this realm, While I reveal the purport of this meeting In words whose necessary length I trust No unsuccessful issue shall excuse. You and the world who have surnamed me "Sage" Know that I owe that title, if my due, To my long meditation on the book Which ever lying open overhead-- The book of

Crouch then in silence. Awful Sufferer! To thee unwilling, most unwillingly I come, by the great Father's will driven down, To execute a doom of new revenge.

Evil minds Change good to their own nature. I gave all He has; and in return he chains me here Years, ages, night and day: whether the Sun Split my parched skin, or in the moony night The crystal-winged snow cling round my hair:

Fiend, I defy thee! with a calm, fixed mind, All that thou canst inflict I bid thee do; Foul Tyrant both of Gods and Humankind, One only being shalt thou not subdue. Rain then thy plagues upon me here, Ghastly disease, and frenzying fear;

With our sea-sister at his feet I slept. The mountain mists, condensing at our voice Under the moon, had spread their snowy flakes, From the keen ice shielding our linked sleep.

Qed, if I saw a man eating grass I'd say he was hungry. They'd have him certified. They claim snow is only precipitation and not candied dew, and the single heart-beat only the contraction and dilation of the central organ of the vascular system. Whroom......"

Do I remember whose daughter I am? Of course. I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than degrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble souls, worth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love sought to excuse itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not follow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my feelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that, being the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of me.

O rage! O despair! O inimical old age! Have I then lived so long only for this disgrace? And have I grown grey in warlike toils, only to see in one day so many of my laurels wither? Does my arm--which all Spain admires and looks up to--does my arm, which has so often saved this empire, and so often strengthened anew the throne of its king, now betray my cause, and do nothing for me? O cruel remembrance of my bygone glory! O work of a lifetime effaced in a day! New dignity fatal to my

Pierced even to the depth by a blow unexpected as well as deadly, pitiable avenger of a just quarrel and unfortunate object of an unjust severity, I remain motionless, and my dejected soul yields to the blow which is slaying me. So near seeing my love requited! O heaven, the strange pang! In this insult my father is the person aggrieved, and the aggressor is the father of ChimFne! What fierce conflicts I experience! My love is engaged against my own honor. I must avenge a father and lose a mistress. The one stimulates my courage, the other

At evening I lay down on a grassy bed strewn with the petals of spring flowers, and recollected the wonderful praise of my beauty I had heard from Arjuna; --drinking drop by drop the honey that I had stored during the long day. The history of my past life like that of my former existences was forgotten. I felt like a flower, which has but a few fleeting hours to listen to all the humming flatteries and whispered murmurs of the woodlands and then must lower its eyes from

My home life? It's okay. I guess most people would think my family's a happy little family. And well I guess... they are. I act like a part of this happy little family. But on the inside I'm screaming trying to get out. My parents just don't get. All they do is scream and shout at me yell and yell even louder. It's like their anger comes out on me... (beat) ...this is hard. I've never told anyone about this before. I'm like any other girl. Afraid she's not skinny or prettier

David, it can't work. I panicked when I met you. I thought you were my last chance so I got you under false pretenses. I pretended to be perfect because I thought you wanted that. David, I'm not perfect. When you were going through your difficulties in making a commitment to me, I know you thought I was "understanding," but, David, I'm not understanding. Everything you do bothers me. You want too much. I can't look pretty all the time. You know, I'm

That's it, isn't it, Ed? You think it's something dirty. "Hey, baby, let's go to my place." That's your speed, isn't it, Eddie? Get out! Otherwise, why would you propose doing something like that with me. On my parents' couch, while my mother is sleeping upstairs and my father's watching television in the next room and my brother is due to walk in that door any minute, and my little sister's got her ear to the kitchen wall. Get out! My parents

Hello everybody, is Edgar here yet? Ah, there he is. Hello Edgar, how is life? (Cell rings). I'll be right with you. Uno momento, please. (Talks on the phone) Hello? Hello killer, how are you? Squash at 5? Let's make it 5:15. I'm in a little presentation here. Ok, you got it, see you there. (Hangs up). So, Edgar, how do you feel? Don't answer a question with a question, just tell me, how do you feel? Please tell me, how do you feel? Well, now you know how your

What in tarnation are you laughing at? Then shut up! Only idiots laugh at nothing. When I was called down from the red clay hills where I was born...barefoot and hungry, called by the voice of God, which I was...(phone rings) .Will somebody pick up that damn phone? I ain't never forgot what I was called for. I didn't build a land of milk and honey only to see some egghead...I've hawked and spit all my life and I'll go on hawking and spitting til the end of my days.

I really want to apologize. I settled for something that I didn't want. I thought I could live with that. I thought it would be enough, but I lied. I lied to myself. I lied to you. To tell you the truth, I think your theories about relationships are total bullshit. I believe in love and lust and sex and romance. I don't want everything to add up to some perfect equation. I want mess and chaos. I want someone to go

I Haven't got anything left but to beg you. Beg you not to go, beg you to stay, begging you, Billy, that's what I'm doing. Remember when we camped behind the dunes that first summer? Remember the wind got wild and we just clung to each other and laughed and you said "why don't we just die together." The way you said it you meant it, like we were the most important people in the world, that our fate was bigger than anything that ever existed. I

What are you doing up so early? Did I leave a roach here? Did you see a roach here? Damn. (Sighs) (Sits on a bed). Had a lousy night. Couldn't sing for shit. It was a lousy crowd. I hate LA. All they do is snort coke and talk. La-la-da-da-da...la-la. Yeah, I recognize that. I like that. I wish Chick was here. Tsk. Maybe I'll get a job in Amsterdam. Chick loved it there. Everyone does. They really know how to treat a jazz person there. How was your night?

You still resent my not being in the hospital with you, don't ya? You know it, uh -- it wasn't my decision. Things had gotten so out of hand between your mother and me by then that I -- Hell, I didn't want to be in your room and make it worse. I did something that day that I'd never done in my life. I didn't tell your mother the truth. Called in sick, and then I left like I was going to work. And I didn't tell your mother

Yeah, well. The truth of the matter is, John Wintergreen, you don't know your own ass from a row of rat shit in a windstorm. Hi there. I am talking to myself. But I ain't listening. You're supposed to listen to your inner voices. They tell you what to do.... ...continued...

NOW that I, tying thy glass mask tightly, May gaze thro' these faint smokes curling whitely, As thou pliest thy trade in this devil's-smithy-- Which is the poison to poison her, prithee? He is with her; and they know that I know Where they are, what they do: they believe my tears flow While they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drear Empty church, to pray God in, for them! -- I am here. Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste, Pound at thy powder, -- I am not in haste! Better sit thus, and observe

This is from Harold Smith. Sorry I haven't been out to see you since the funeral but things have been pretty strange. So were you sleeping with this guy Harold or what? He seems pretty nice. Kind of an oddball. Although, I guess that anyone can start to seem like that when you look close enough....."

I trust no man. I can read lies in their faces, I see intrigue in their protestations. Their eyes, their mouths, their hands, their whole body lies. Suspicion poisons every thought I have. I was intended for a quieter existence. I love men, and I wish to believe in them. But how can I, when I see them perjure themselves ten times a day, sell themselves, their friends, their armies, their Patrie, for motives of fear, or ambition, or viciousness, or malevolence pure and simple? I have seen Mirabeau, Lafayette, Dumouriez, Custine, the king, the aristocrats, the Girondins,

What do you mean with your talk all the time of burning and hanging and stirring things up? What'll it bring you? I know well enough you'll not do a blessed thing about it. Then why talk so much? Will it make your soup taste better if you cook a few aristocrats? They'll run off with all their money and we'll be more miserable than ever. You see, you've got to take things as they come, and not believe those liars that tell you you can change things by shouting. D'ye know what I think? We're wasting

Look at those nasty scoundrels, those blue toads, those idiotic fools! Just because they're titled, they think they can make laws for free men! Bourgeois! The moment four of them gather together, they form committees and spoil good paper with their rules and regulations!

I was lying there on my back. I could smell the avocado blossoms. I could hear the coyotes. I could hear stock cars squealing down the street. I could feel myself....

Look at me now. Impotent. Can't strike a kill unless the charts are right. Stuck in my image. Stuck in a mansion. Waiting. Waiting for a kid who's probably just like me...."

My English teacher once told me that he didn't think of God as a spirit or anything, he thought of God as a part of every human being. God is innocence and the supposed "Satan" was whatever evil we contained inside ourselves. I guess it's sort of like Lord Of The Flies. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that if Satan or evil was a part of me, it would be a big part. I've been trying to fit in some kind of innocence but it just keeps pushing

What good is it. What good will it do to tell you how I feel every moment of the day.I mean... What will it do for you. So you can feel sorry for me? Yeah well I don't take to kind to sorrow or pity for that matter either. It hurts, I wont lie to you and say that it doesn't hurt but intensifying ever little detail does not even for one second lessen the pain. What do you want me to do? What? You're just sitting there telling me everything

Just been listening to that stupid bastard I took myself for thirty years ago, hard to believe I was ever as bad as that. Thank God that's all done with anyway. (Pause) The eyes she had!....

I used to worry that I would never have a boyfriend, that I would never find someone who I cared about enough to want to date, let alone marry. I was so scared that I'd go through life pitifully alone. But you know, when I finally gave up searching for one, he kind of just fell into my lap. Raphael has been my best friend for all my high school years. He's sweet, caring, and he's always been there when I needed him. He's really close friends

Though I should endure what must be borne, ne'er could my woes be ended, save by gloomy death. With my mother slain, my father by crime snatched from me, robbed of my brother, by wretchedness and grief o'erwhelmed, by sorrow crushed, by my husband hated, and set beneath my slave,

Onward, damned shade, and goad thy sinful house to madness. Let there be rivalry in guilt of every kind; let the sword be drawn on this side and on that; let their passions know no bounds, no shame; let blind fury prick on their souls; heartless be parents' rage, and to children's

Where am I? Fled is the kindly light, deep darkness blinds my eyes, and the sky, buried in gloom, is hidden away. But see! with double sun the day gleams forth, and double Argos lifts up twin palaces! Ida's groves I see; there sits the shepherd, fateful judge midst mighty goddesses.--

I stopped laughing a long time ago. I stopped crying not too long after that. When I was fifteen, my father died. I think I killed him. I wouldn't laugh. I wouldn't laugh at his jokes. All he wanted was for me to laugh at his jokes. That's not hard. That's not a high expectation. What's so bad about that? I don't know if he ever knew that I loved him. I don't know if he ever knew that - that I thought he was funny. (Chokes on tears) I loved

I want to say what I have to say and then I'll take you wherever you want to go....Yeah, I was shocked that day. I'm an Irish cop from Queens. My father was a cop. All I knew about black people what that they hated me and they made my job hard. We met at Brooklyn Law and everything changed for me. They're right -- love can do that to you. I loved being in love with a girl from the 34. It made me feel anything's possible in this

See, I -- I don't know what the fuck this guy's on, see...but he just sits there with that shit-eatin' grin on his face. Yeah. So fuck it. I figure I gotta straighten him out a little bit. So I says, "You got a right to remain silent...as long as you can stand the pain." There's nothing. Not a fucking dent! Not a fucking dent. So, "Fuck it. I'll take him in back to print him." (He pretends to grab one of the cops listening). He pulls away from me. He's

In my experience, the worst thing you can do to an important problem is discuss it..."

Father, the gods implant reason in men, the highest of all things that we call our own. Not mine the skill--far from me be the quest!--to say wherein thou speakest not aright; and yet another man, too, might have some useful thought. At least, it is my natural office to watch, on thy behalf, all that men say, or do, or find to blame. For the dread of thy frown forbids the citizen to speak such words as would offend thine ear; but I can hear these murmurs in the dark, these moanings of the city

My liege, I will not say that I come breathless from speed, or that I have plied a nimble foot; for often did my thoughts make me pause, and wheel round in my path, to return. My mind was holding large discourse with me: "Fool, why goest thou to certain doom?" "Wretch, tarrying again? And if Creon hears this from another, must not thou smart for it?" So debating, I went on my way with lagging steps, and thus a short road was made long. At last, however, it carried the day that I should come

Friends, while our guest is parleying in the house With the girl-captives, on the point to go, I am come forth to you in private, first Wishing to tell you my devices, next To be condoled with for my injuries. For I have taken to my house a maid-- A maid no more, but mated, to my thinking-- Even as a shipman takes a load on board, A losing bargain for my heart! And now We two abide beneath one coverlet To be embraced. This reward Heracles-- Faithful and good as we reputed him-- Sends, in return for my long house-tending. And him

How many and how fierce and sore to tell The labours I with body and hands have wrought! And such an one not even the Spouse of Jove Set me, or the abhorred Eurystheus, ever, As this, which neus' daughter crafty-faced Fitted upon my shoulders--the web-toil Woven of the Furies, which is killing me. For plastered to my sides, it has gnawed off The surface of my flesh, and settles in And battens on the channels of the lungs, And has already drained all my fresh life-blood, And through my whole frame I am overthrown, Worsted by this unthought-for fetterment! Treatment such

I care not for thy counsel or thy praise; For with what eyes could I have e'er beheld My honoured father in the shades below, Or my unhappy mother, both destroyed By me? This punishment is worse than death, And so it should be. Sweet had been the sight Of my dear children--them I could have wished To gaze upon; but I must never see Or them, or this fair city, or the palace Where I was born. Deprived of every bliss By my own lips, which doomed to

O my lord Ajax, in the ills of men There is none sorer than Necessity. I was the offspring of a sire free-born, Strong in his wealth, no Phrygian more than he; And now, I am a slave. So the Gods willed it, And thy right hand determined. Coming thus Unto thy bed, I am on thy side, now. And I beseech thee by our household Jove, And by thy couch, which thou didst share with me, Leave me not open to contemptuous talk From thy foes' tongues, bequeathing me to be Handmaid to some one! For the very day Thou

You come, having been told, as I suppose, Of my distress; but you are ignorant-- And may you never by experience learn-- What canker gnaws my heart. For Girlhood feeds In the same place, in pastures such as these, Where neither heat of the Sun-god, nor rain, Nor any breath of tempest, vexes it; But in delights it rears an untasked life, Up to the point where we obtain the name Of wife instead of maiden, and receive Share, in the night-time, of solicitudes, Portioned with fears, either for spouse or child. Hence might each see, regarding her own case, Under what

[Led by a young boy] Princes of Thebes, we have come with linked steps, both served by the eyes of one; for thus, by a guide's help, the blind must walk. Thou standest on fate's fine edge. If thou wouldst learn the meaning of my words, heed the warnings of mine art. As I took my place on mine old seat of augury, where all birds have been wont to gather within my ken, I heard a strange voice among them; they were screaming with dire, feverish rage, that drowned their language in jargon; and I knew that

Ah, fierce full oft, and grievous not in name alone, have been the labours of these hands, the burdens borne upon these shoulders! But no toil ever laid on me by the wife of Zeus or by the hateful Eurystheus was like unto this thing which the daughter of Oeneus, fair and false, hath fastened upon my back,- this woven net of the Furies, in which I perish! Glued to my sides, it hath eaten my flesh to the inmost parts; it is ever with me, sucking the channels of

Ah, who would have supposed it possible The name I bear should ever be attuned To these misfortunes! Doubly, trebly now May I lament; so sore bested am I;

Aiai! Who ever would have thought my name Would harmonise so aptly with my woes? For now well may I wail that sound out twice, Yea thrice; such woeful destinies are mine, Whose father from this land of Ida won Fame's noblest guerdon over the whole host, And crowned with praises only sailed back home; But I, his son, who to the self-same Troy Came after him, in might no less than he, Nor rendering meaner service by my deeds, Dishonoured by the Argives perish thus. Yet this methinks I

Alas! how hateful to the gods, How very poor a wretch must I be then, That Greece should never hear of woes like mine! But they who sent me hither, they concealed them, And smile triumphant, whilst my cruel wounds Grow deeper still. O, sprung from great Achilles! Behold before thee Poeas' wretched son, With whom, a chance but thou hast heard, remain The dreadful arrows of renowned Alcides, E'en the unhappy Philoctetes- him Whom the Atreidae and the vile Ulysses Inhuman left, distempered as I was By the envenomed

And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish. Now my imaginings have gone so far. Who has a higher claim that thou to hear My tale of dire adventures? Listen then. My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and My mother Merope, a Dorian; And I was held the foremost citizen, Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed, Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred. A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine, Shouted "Thou art not true son of thy sire." It irked me, but I stomached

Bethink thee, sister, of our father's fate, Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin, Blinded, himself his executioner. Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names) Done by a noose herself had twined to death And last, our hapless brethren in one day, Both in a mutual destiny involved, Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain. Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone; Shall we not perish wretchedest of all, If in defiance of the law we cross A monarch's will?—weak women, think of that, Not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember this too that the

Hear, then, the course I am resolved upon. Friends to stand by us even you must know That none are left but us; but the Grave has taken And reft them; and we two remain alone. I, while I heard my brother was alive

Holy Light, with Earth, and Sky, Whom thou fillest equally, An how many a note of woe, Many a self-inflicted blow On my scarred breast might'st thou mark, Ever as recedes the dark; Known, too,

I am ashamed, dear ladies, if to you Through frequent lamentations I appear Too sorely oppressed; but, for necessity Obliges me to do so, pardon me. For how should any woman gently born, Viewing the sorrows of her father's house,

I am the guilty cause. I did the deed, Thy murderer. Yea, I guilty plead. My henchmen, lead me hence, away, away, A cipher, less than nothing; no delay! Come, Fate, a friend at need, Come with all speed! Come, my best friend, And speed my end! Away, away! Let me not look upon another day! Away with me, a worthless wretch who slew Unwitting thee, my son, thy mother too. Whither to turn I know now; every way Leads but astray, And on my head I feel the heavy weight Of

I am the son of Polybus, who reigns At Corinth, and the Dorian Merope His queen; there long I held the foremost rank, Honoured and happy, when a strange event (For strange it was, though little meriting The deep concern I felt) alarmed me

O front of impudence! Which thinkest thou Now to defile--My grey hairs, or thine own? Who hast spit forth out of thy mouth at me Murders and marriages and accidents, Which to my grief, not of free will, I suffered; Such was the will

O king! thou seest what numbers throng thy altars; Here, bending sad beneath the weight of years, The hoary priests, here crowd the chosen youth Of Thebes, with these a weak and suppliant train Of helpless infants, last in me behold The minister of Jove: far off thou seest Assembled multitudes, with laurel crowned, To where Minerva's hallowed temples rise Frequent repair, or where Ismenus laves Apollo's sacred shrine: too well thou knowst Thy wretched Thebes, with dreadful storms oppressed, Scarce lifts her head above the whelming flood; The teeming earth her blasted harvest mourns, And on the barren plain the flocks and herds Unnumbered

O thou fire! Thou universal horror! Masterpiece Abominable, of monstrous villainy! What hast thou done to me? How hast thou cheated me!

O what a drudge and sport of Gods am I! Of whose ill plight no whisper ever came To my own home, or any coast of Greece, But they who thrust me out unrighteously

Sirs, the vessel of our state, after being tossed on wild waves, hath once more been safely steadied by the gods: and ye, out of all the folk, have been called apart by my summons, because I knew, first of all, how true and constant was your reverence for the royal power of Laius;

There is a saying among men, put forth of old, that thou canst not rightly judge whether a mortal's lot is good or evil, ere he die. But I, even before I have passed to the world of death, know well that my life is sorrowful and bitter; I, who in the house of my father Oeneus, while yet I dwelt at Pleuron, had such fear of bridals as never vexed any maiden of Aetolia. For my wooer was a river-god, Achelous, who in three shapes was ever asking me

Thou hast come to a steed-famed land for rest, O stranger worn with toil, To a land of all lands the goodliest Colonus' glistening soil. 'Tis the haunt of the clear-voiced nightingale, Who hid in her bower, among The wine-dark ivy that wreathes the vale, Trilleth her ceaseless song; And she loves, where the clustering berries nod O'er a sunless, windless glade, The spot by no mortal footstep trod, The pleasance kept for the Bacchic god, Where he holds each night his revels wild With the nymphs who fostered the lusty child. And fed

Thou shalt hear all, as though thou hadst been present. In the middle of the night, when the evening braziers No longer flared, he took a two-edged sword, And fain would sally upon an empty quest. But I rebuked him, saying: "What doest thou, Ajax? Why thus uncalled wouldst thou go forth? No messenger has summoned thee, no trumpet Roused thee. Nay, the whole camp is sleeping still." But curtly he replied in well-worn phrase: "Woman, silence is the grace of woman." Thus schooled, I yielded; and he rushed out

Thou worst of men, thou vile artificer Of fraud most infamous, what hast thou done? How have I been deceived? Dost thou not blush To look upon me, to behold me thus Beneath thy feet imploring? Base betrayer! To rob me of my bow, the means of life, The only means- give 'em, restore 'em to me! Do not take all Alas Alas! he hears me not, Nor deigns to speak, but casts an angry look That says I never shall be free again. O mountains, rivers, rocks, and savage

Thus then it was. Soon as Achilles died, Phoenix, the guardian of his tender years, Instant sailed forth, and sought me out at Scyros; With him the wary chief Ulysses came. They told me then (or true or false I know not), My father dead, by me, and me alone Proud Troy must fall. I yielded to their prayers; I hoped to see at least the dear remains Of him whom living I had long in vain Wished to behold. Safe at Sigeum's port Soon we arrived. In crowds the

Tomb, bridal-chamber, eternal prison in the caverned rock, whither go to find mine own, those many who have perished, and whom Persephone hath received among the dead! Last of all shall I pass thither, and far most miserably of all, before the term of my life is spent. But I cherish good hope that my coming will be welcome to my father, and pleasant to thee, my mother, and welcome, brother, to thee; for, when ye died, with mine own hands I washed and dressed you, and poured drink-offerings at

Well, it is strange that you, being his child Who was your sire, should have regard for her, Your mother, and have quite forgotten him! All this good counsel you bestow on me Is of her teaching; and of your own self You can

What's done was well done. Thou canst never shake My firm belief. A truce to argument. For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes I could have met my father in the shades, Or my poor mother, since against the twain I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone. Aye, but, ye say, the sight of children joys A parent's eyes. What, born as mine were born? No, such a sight could never bring me joy; Nor this fair city with its battlements, Its temples and the statues

Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance, With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid? Best live a careless life from hand to mouth. This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou. How oft it chances that in dreams a man Has wed his mother! He who least regards Such brainsick fantasies lives most at ease.

Ye have heard of my trouble, I think, and that hath brought you here; but the anguish which consumes my heart- ye are strangers to that; and never may ye learn it by suffering! Yes, the tender plant grows in those sheltered regions of its own! and the Sun-god's heat vexes it not, nor rain, nor any wind; but it rejoices in its sweet, untroubled being, til such time as the maiden is called a wife, and finds her portion of anxious thoughts in the night, brooding on danger to

Ye pray; 'tis well, but would ye hear my words And heed them and apply the remedy, Ye might perchance find comfort and relief. Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger To this report, no less than to the crime; For how unaided could I track it far Without a clue? Which lacking (for too late Was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes) This proclamation I address to all:-- Thebans, if any knows the man by whom Laius, son of Labdacus, was slain, I summon him to

Yea, Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king, Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege Thy palace altars--fledglings hardly winged, And greybeards bowed with years, priests, as am I Of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth. Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs Crowd our two market-places, or before Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where Ismenus gives his oracles by fire. For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State, Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head, Foundered beneath a weltering surge of blood. A blight

Yea, this, my son, should by thy heart's fixed law--in all things to obey thy father's will. 'Tis for this that men pray to see dutiful children grow up around them in their homes--that such may requite their father's foe with evil, and honour, as their father doth, his friend. But

You shall hear all that passed, Being sharers in the event. At dead of night, When the evening campfires no longer blazed, He grasped his two-edged weapon, and seemed bent To sally upon some errand, objectless. I, in surprise, said to him "What dost thou, Ajax? Why thus unsummoned either by the voice Of messengers, or any trumpet-call, Goest thou forth? Now the whole host is sleeping!" But briefly he replied and in cant phrase; "Woman, a woman should be seen, not heard." I held my tongue, and he rushed forth alone. What there befell him truly I cannot say; But he came

Your prayers are heard: and if you will obey Your king, and hearken to his words, you soon Shall find relief; myself will heal your woes. I was a stranger to the dreadful deed, A stranger e'en to the report till now; And yet

Listen, Henry Hinde. All the time you were away in Liverpool where nobody knew you, I was here where everybody knew me. Do you know what that means? People staring at me, and turning up their noses at me? There was nothing but contempt for me at first. I was a bad woman, and I wasn't asked nowhere. Fellows in the street treated me like dirt beneath their feet. They spoke to me as if I was a bad woman. And all that time you were in Liverpool, and were thought a lot of. It wasn't fair.

Ok... look Eddie, I know I've said this before but I mean it THIS time. This chapter is over. I am NOT feeling this. We have been seeing each other for 7 and a half months now and you don't even take me out... well that time we went to the movies and then back to your place. Or that time we ate at that cheap Mexican restaurant. I am sick and tired of getting a text message like, "I miss you baby, why don't you meet

I can't take it anymore!! I'm up every day at five. Every day. Up at five, go for a jog, take a shower, wake Sally, cook breakfastsomething healthyegg whites, flax, kale, organic coffee, sprouted wheat. Sit down with Dave and Sally for breakfast. Eat a

was like you once. Lost. Confused. A piece of shit......Then I met Charlie..... ...Then I ran and caught his hand, and till they arrested him for stabbing Sharon Tate, I never let it go.

Have you ever been selected for Jury Duty and really wanted to get out of it but just can't quite come up with a strong enough excuse? Neither have I but anyway, for anyone that has I have drafted up a letter just for you. So the next time you do get selected send this back to them and I guarantee you will be excused! Dear Sir/Maam I am so ecstatic that you have chosen me

I've sure known a lot of DICKS in my life................... Take for instance, DICK HEDD. I could never stand that guy. There was also that other Dick who didn't practice safe sex, his name was DICK PHELLOF. Then there was DICK STAYNE, he cleaned sheets for a living. And how could I forget DICK BURNS. He caught his underwear on fire in a freak mishap. When he got to the hospital the nurse asked him for his name. Gasping, he said DICK BURNS! She said "I'm sure it does Sir but I

So my wife calls me into the laundry room the other day and tells me she needs my help to fold a fitted sheet. At first I was thinking how hard can that be, sure Honey, I'll help you do that. How wrong could I be? Very wrong unfortunately. Anyway, I sure hope nobody else was listening to the directions my wife was giving me, they may of very well thought something else entirely was going on in that laundry room that day. Anyway, this is what she said: "Alright,

There's a spider living just outside my front door, he's brown, he's hairy, he has long scraggly legs and he's got a rear end damn near the size of a golf ball. He tried again today. Knowing I was going to be coming outside shortly to get the Sunday paper he spun a single strand of web across my front door in an brazen attempt to catch me in it's confines and have me for dinner. After walking through it and breaking it apart all over my face I explained

That nine year old kid, Judy Miller...they're gonn let her play baseball with the boys. How'd you like that. Father had to go to court but they're gonna let her play, I think it's terrific. I mean, who the hell notices at that age? If the kid's a good ball player, what's the difference if she's a girl? Father must be a hell of a guy, he took it all the way to court, huh?.......They play but they don't play on dirt anymore, they play on plastic. Ballplayers are a

Oh, ok. I'm the selfish and childish one. I'm the one who's been holding back on my "loving and caring signs of affection" towards Ken to save your feelings. I'm the one who had to deal with everyone else at the party with us saying "What's wrong with Tony? Why is he in a mood all of a sudden?" I'm the one who tries to make you a part of something else, like their business. And as for the invite... yes, I know you threw this "little going away party" for me. But I also had made

The very first time that I saw you, I thought to myself, Damn, now there's a woman that would never go out with me. I hovered around you so many times, trying to find a way to ask you out. You just seemed so unattainable. I mean, look at you. You're just so damned beautiful. I never thought that someone as gorgeous as you would ever even consider a regular guy like me. I was about to give up, then, out of nowhere, you just started talking to me. Then,

Janice has just called Cheryl with another problem. She is more of a talker than a listener, and as always has something to complain about. Cheryl on the other hand, has an active life, full of meaningful relationships and always busy. Somehow I get the feeling that Janice needs Cheryl, more than the other way around. Janice: (On the Phone) Hey, girl! Sorry I haven't called you back. My Mom's throwing a fit again. Two weeks ago, it was because I snuck out at night to go to a party

Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes. We came along the road from my place and as I got here I said, I'm going to see if I can't get John Wright to go in with me on a party telephone.' I spoke to Wright about it once before

Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain: Temptation shall not come in this kind again. The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason...

Honey, I told you I thoroughly checked on these stories! Now wait till I finish. The trouble with Dame Blanche was that she couldn't put on her act any more in Laurel!...."

I started to have bad dreams. Nightmares, and cold sweats at night, and I had palpitations, and on my leaves I got drunk and woke up in strange places with faces on the next pillow I'd never seen before. My eyes had a wild look in them in the mirror. I got the idea I wouldn't live through the war, that I wouldn't come home, that all the excitement and glory of being Chance Wayne would go up in smoke at the moment of contact between my brain and a

I, I, I took the blows in my face and my body! All of those deaths! The long parade to the graveyard! Father, Mother! Margaret, that dreadful way! So big with it, couldn't be put in a coffin! But had to be burned like rubbish! You just came home in time for the funerals, Stella. And funerals are pretty compared to deaths. Funerals are quiet, but deaths- not always. Sometimes their breathing is hoarse, and sometimes it rattles, and sometimes they even cry out to you, "Don't let me go!"

Stumblejohn! I shouldn't have done that - that was way off the beam. You don't smoke, do you? Would you care for a mint?..."

My Infelice's face: her brow, her eye, The dimple on her cheek, and such sweet skill Hath from the cunning workman's pencil flown, These lips look fresh and lively as her own, Seeming to move and speak. 'Las! Now I see The reason why fond women love to buy Adulterate complexion: here 'tis read False colours last after the true be dead. Of all the roses grafted on her cheeks, Of all the graces dancing in her eyes, Of all the music set upon her tongue, Of all that

That which green wounds receive from sovereign balm: Patience, my lord. Why, 'tis the soul of peace. Of all the virtues 'tis near'st kin to heaven. It makes men look like gods; the best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breath'd. The stock of patience then cannot be poor; All it desires, it has: what monarch more? It is the greatest enemy to law That can be, for it doth embrace

Methinks a toad is happier than a whore. That, with one poison, swells; with thousands more The other stocks her veins. Harlot? Fie, fie! You are the miserablest creatures breathing, The very slaves of nature. Mark me else. You put on rich attires--others' eyes wear them; You eat, but to supply your blood with sin. And this strange curse e'en haunts you to your graves. From fools you get, and spend it upon slaves. Like bears and apes, y'are baited and show tricks For money; but your bawd the sweetness licks. Indeed, you are their journeywomen, and do All base and damned

To prove a woman should not be a whore, When she was made, she had one man, and no more, Yet she was tied to laws then, for, even then, 'Tis said, she was not made for men, but man. Anon, t'increase earth's brood, the law was varied, Men should take many wives, and though they married According to that act, yet 'tis not known, But that those wives were only tied to one. New Parliaments were since: for now one woman Is shar'd betweene three hundred, nay she's common Common? As spotted leopards, whom for sport Men hunt, to get

[Melancholy] I am a villain, if I apprehend But such a thought! Then, to attempt the deed-- Slave, thou art damned without redemption! I'll drive away this passion with a song. A song! Ha, ha! A song! As if, fond man, Thy eyes could swim in laughter when thy soul Lies drenched and drownTd in red tears of blood! I'll pray, and see if God within my heart Plant better thoughts. Why, prayers are meditations, And when I meditate (O, God forgive me!) It is on her divine perfections. I will forget her; I will arm myself Not t' entertain a thought of

I am a villain, if I apprehend But such a thought! Then, to attempt the deed-- Slave, thou art damned without redemption! I'll drive away this passion with a song. A song! Ha, ha! A song! As if, fond man, Thy eyes could swim in laughter when thy soul Lies drenched and drownÃ©d in red tears of blood! I'll pray, and see if God within my heart Plant better thoughts. Why, prayers are meditations, And when I meditate (O, God forgive me!) It is on her divine perfections. I will forget her; I will arm myself Not t' entertain a thought of

Pursued with horror of a guilty soul, And with the sharp scourge of repentance lashed, I fly from mine own shadow. O my stars! What have my parents in their lives deserved, That you should lay this penance on their son? When I but think of Master Frankford's love, And lay it to my treason, or compare My murthering him for his relieving me, It strikes a terror like a lightning's flash, To scorch my blood up. Thus I, like the owl, Ashamed of day, live in these shadowy woods, Afraid of every leaf or murmuring blast. Yet longing to receive some

Is this the love thou bear'st Horatio? Is this the kindness that thou counterfeits? Are these the fruits of thine incessant tears? Hieronimo, are these thy passions, Thy protestations and thy deep laments, That thou wert wont to weary men withal? O unkind father! O deceitful world! With what excuses canst thou show thyself-- With what dishonor and the hate of men-- From this dishonor and the hate of men, Thus to neglect the loss and life of him Whom both my letters and thine own belief Assures thee to

When this eternal substance of my soul Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh: Each in their function serving other's need, I was a courtier in the Spanish Court. My name was Don Andrea, my descent Though not ignoble, yet inferior far To gracious fortunes of my tender youth: For there in prime and pride of all my years, By Duteous service and deserving love, In secret I possess'd a worthy dame, Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name. But in the harvest of my summer joys, Death's winter nipp'd the blossoms of my bliss, Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me. For in

My master hath forbidden me to look in this box, and by my troth 'tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not have had so much idle time: for we men's-kind in our minority are like women in their uncertainty, that they are most forbidden, they will soonest attempt: so I now. By my bare honesty here's nothing but the bare empty box: were it not a sin against secrecy, I would say it were a piece of gentlemanlike knavery. I must go to Pedringano, and tell him his pardon is in this box,

Heaven knows with what unwillingness and hate I enter this damn'd place. But such extremes Of wrongs in love fight 'gainst religious knowledge, That were I led by this disease to deaths As numberless as creatures that must die, I could not shun the way. I know what 'tis To pity madmen now; they're wretched things That ever were created, if they be Of woman's making and her faithless vows. I fear they're now a-kissing. What's a'clock? 'Tis now but suppertime, but night will come, And all new-married couples make

Ah, yes, yes, there's nothing in the world like love, no bloom like its bloom; not a thing can you mention that has more flavour and more savour. Upon my soul, it's most surprising that cooks, with all their use of spices, don't use this one spice that excels them all. Why, when you spice a dish with love it'll tickle every palate, I do believe. Not a thing can be either salt or sweet without a dash of love: it will turn gall, bitter thought it be, to honey--an old curmudgeon to a [self-consciously] pleasing

I do believe it was Love that first devised the torturer's profession here on earth. It's my own experience--no need to look further--that makes me think so, for in torment of soul no man rivals me, comes near me. I'm tossed around, bandied about, goaded, whirled on the wheel of love, done to death, poor wretch that I am! I'm torn, torn asunder, disrupted, dismembered--yes, all my mental faculties are befogged! Where I am, there I am not; where I am not, there my soul is--yes, I am in a thousand moods! The thing that pleases me

If heaven doesn't rescue me, I'm dead and done for, with not a soul to look to for aid! Oh, how miserable my own heedlessness makes me! Oh! how I dread what will happen to my back, if my mistress finds out I've been so negligent! [thinking] Surely I had that little casket in my hands and received it from her here in front of the house--and where it is now I don't know, unless I dropped it somewhere about here, as I suspect. [to audience] Dear gentlemen, dear spectators, do tell me if anyone of you

What'll I do to you? First of all, I'll make you torch-bearer to this bride of mine. After that you'll be the same worthless good-for-nothing as always; and subsequently when you come to the villa you shall be provided with just one pitcher and one path, on spring, one kettle, and--eight big casks: and unless those casks are always full, I'll give you your fill--of welts. I'll make you carry water till you have such a beautiful crook in your back that they can use you for a horse's crupper. Yes, and furthermore, when it comes to

If you weren't mean, if you weren't stupid, if you weren't a violent virago, what you see displeases your husband would be displeasing to you, too. Now mark my words, if you act like this toward me after today, you shall hie yourself home to your father as a divorcee. Why, whenever

Unless you were worthless, unless you were foolish, unless you were stark wild and an idiot, that which you see is disagreable to your husband, you would deem to be so to yourself as well. Moreover, if after this day you do any such thing to me, I'll force you, a divorced woman, turned out of my doors to go visit your father. For as often as I wish to go out of the house, you are detaining me, calling me back, asking me questions; whither I am going, what

I dunno...but whenever I see her I just wanna...you know, I wanna....undress her....I wanna tie her up. I wanna pump her. Pump, pump, pump til she screams bloody murder. And then I wanna flip her ass over and pump her even more. And so hard that my dick shoots right through her. And that my...come squirts out her mouth....And not that I could ever.....

I have a confession to make.....do you remember Pedro's penis? Well, it wasn't really cut off. I tried so many times to tell you but it's hard to.....I'd always been very friendly to him. You know, because I try to be that way with all the doormen, even though they are always snickering behind my back. I don't care. I'm still friendly. It's just my way. But um, Pedro was different. Pedro never snickered. Of course who was he to snicker. He wasn't exactly Tom Cruise. Still, he could have,

I have no desires. None...There was a messenger...that's right. We were sent for. (He wheels at Rosecrantz and raps out). Syllogism the second: one, probability is a factor which operates within natural forces....

Claudia has been arrested on manslaughter charges. But before her trial, the prosecuting attorney requires she undergo psychiatric examination to see if she is able to stand trial. Claudia and her lawyer countersue, and in this scene, is grilled by the prosecuting attorney on whether or not she is "nuts". She does very well, and just previous to this monologue, the prosecutor has just asked Claudia if she loves her mother. When I was a little girl, I used to say to her, I love you to the

Malcolm knows he needs me around and he can't live without me. You all say you love Malcolm and want what's best for him, so therefore you should appreciate all that I do for him. We have been friends for almost ten years and I have helped him get through the most despairing hours. I helped him deal with situations that would've deprived the sharpest minds of their sanity. Yet every time someone meets me, they just want him to kick me out. (mimicking) You don't need him, Malcolm. He's

Oh, you don't know Toni at all. Well, we do have a lot in common. We both like the same music, go to the same school, we're both majoring in law... We're both women. Nothing more to say? I remember when Toni and I finally told my parents. They came to Boston to help us move into my new apartment and I kind of figured my mom knew what was going on, but my Dad was totally clueless. So anyway, we got all our furniture moved in and my Dad says to

Monsieur Javert, I beseech your mercy. I assure you that I was not in the wrong. If you had seen the beginning, you would have seen. I swear to you by the good God that I was not to blame! That gentleman, the bourgeois, whom I do not know, put snow in my back.

Oh! Have pity upon me! You think yourself unhappy; alas! alas! you know not what unhappiness is. Oh! to love a woman! to be a priest! to be hated! to love with all the fury of one's soul; to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's vitals,

Thou art reputed to have been a monster of intrigue. So art thou still. 'T is said that women, pretty women too, in former days did foolish things for thee. Thy origin, midst lackeys, aye, and clowns, thy low, base, slippery beginnings suit my whim. No one can say with certainty, not even thine own self, who was thy father. I do admire thee for that thou dost so cunningly hide thy identity while living in the public eye. The cormorant's nest, the hole where lurks the basilisk, are the

(Getting into her rollercoaster seat.) (She’s talking to her boyfriend.) You and your obsession with rollercoasters. What’s the name of this one? Oh, “The Terminatrix.” How nice. Look, Derek, I— How do I buckle this thing? I got it. Derek, I think I’ve got enough adrenaline and funnel cakes in my system, I can finally tell you what’s in my heart right now. This might not be the best conversation to have on the rollercoaster, but if what I am about to say breaks your heart, you can just claim that whatever tears might be in your eyes are

(Southern Dialect.) Now what’s that sound creeping into my old ears? Ah, it’s just as I feared, a sound this old gal has heard all too often, knows all too well, in fact. Ain’t nothing quite like the lonesome wish of a young, helpless heart. Child, you got a look on your face like you spent the whole day crying tears the size of huckleberries. Am I right? You look like a girl who is crock-full of dreams, and all of them have gotten squished one way or another. And now you,

(Writing a letter, speaking the words as she writes.) To my dear husband. No. Dear Chris. No, no. Dear Nick. Dear St. Nick. No. Dear Mr. Claus. I am so sorry it has come to this. We've been married for over a dozen centuries and yet somehow we've grown apart. Maybe it's the fact that you spend more time with your reindeer than you do with me. Or that you don't feel complete unless you are down in your workshop, slave-driving those poor elves. (Continues speaking, but no longer writing. Feel free

A story begins. A child is born. He grows into a man. He experiences happiness. He meets a girl. They fall in love. They get married. They have children. The children grow up and move away. There's a fifty percent chance that he and his wife will stay together. (Flips a coin.) Hmm. by himself now, the man grows old. Older. Older. And dies. The end. Not very satisfying is it? And why? The story had no conflict. Conflict is struggle, a quest, a battle, a challenge, a longing, an

Avast, ye landlubbers! Cursed be all who cast their eyes upon the stage. Cursed, says I! Ha! Hahahaha! Arg, fooled you, didn’t I?! Don’t worry, you’re not cursed! That was just my way a scaring off the faint of heart. Now that we’ve thinned out their ranks, let’s get down to business. Let me guess. You’ve come looking for a story. But not just any yarn. You want a tale of high adventure. Methinks it might be a pirate story that you’re itching for. Well, it just so happens that

Ben is in love? With me? I would think that clucking batch of hens were playing some kind of trick on me, just making stuff up. But Aunt Sue… she wouldn’t lie. She’s old. She wants to make sure she gets into heaven. So it must be true. Ben loves me. And the others think that I would shun him. That I would scoff at him just because the poor guy has feelings for me. Or that I’d gloat ‘cuz he finds me so beautiful. I wouldn’t gloat. It ain't his fault I'm so darn pretty. And

Hold it right there, Dante! I’ve watched you do this all your life, from kindergarten to the twelth grade. But it’s not going to happen tonight. Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Remember first grade? The lunchroom. You’re walking around begging for a chocolate chip cookie. “Oh, I’m little Dante and I’m so sad. My mommy packed nothing but veggies. Oh I wish I had a cookie. Oh if only!” Here, Dante, I said kindly, here’s a chocolate chip cookie, and what did

I kissed a boy once. At least I tried. I don’t know if it counts if they don’t kiss back. But I tried to kiss a boy and it almost worked. Most of the time Grandma and I don’t get to see folks much, but we go into town. Sometimes. And Grandma says I just have to be careful to mind my manners, and Grandma says I’m real good at being careful, but sometimes I get so bored in that little town. Only one video store. Only two churches. And the park only has two swings and a pool that

I’ll never forget that storm. In one moment, the night was still and as black as tar. An instant later, a howlin’ wind roared in! The rain pelted the ocean. Lightning spat. Thunder belched. It was as if there was trouble brewing beneath the waves. And then, just as the rain and the lightning and the thunder began their mighty battle – it all stopped. And the morning sun came out as if nothing had ever happened. Well, that storm may be over, but I still say that trouble’s a-brewin’.

I’m the kind of girl who takes pity on poor pathetic geeks who have never kissed a girl. Let’s just say that I like someone who is easily trainable – someone who will truly appreciate me. It’s sad, I know. But hey, I’ll take an ego boost wherever I can get it. Unfortunately, these adorably nerdy boyfriends get boring after a while. I mean, I can only listen to their computer games and mathematic equations for so long. Of course, Stuart’s different in a lot ways. He’s terrible at math,

I'll tell you what happened. I woke up earlier than you. I got out the ice chest. I made sandwiches. I washed the rhubarb I had been hiding at the bottom of the fridge as a surprise. And I packed all of those other snacks including your precious fig cookies which I lovingly placed into the ice chest. You ate half of the fig newtons, without offering me a single one. Then, three hours later, when the ice melted, and you noticed them floating there, getting soggy, you just left

Neverland 911, what's the emergency? You are being kidnapped by pirates? Can you be more specific? Which pirate is kidnapping you? Well, if he's limping on a peg-leg then it's probably Long John Silver, but if he has a hook then it's probably Captain-oh- He's got a hook and a pegleg? Oh dear. Please hold. Neverland 911, what's the emergency? Being harassed by mermaids? How dreadful. Please hold. Neverland 911, how can I help you? Trapped in Skull Cave? The tide is coming in? Oh my! Please hold. Neverland 911, what's your problem? Your rowboat's falling apart? And you're being attacked

No, I am not enjoying the party. Behold poor souls! The fates turn backwards on themselves. There is danger looming ahead. I can see our bleak future. I am doomed to know all of the catastrophes that will befall us, yet no one believes me. Therefore, hark, Paris, Prince of Troy. All is twisted and sour -- and I am not just talking about the fruit punch. Can you not see all of the signs? They are all around us, even as we celebrate. Look there, Hercules the strongest man

Oh, you do not remember anything? Nor do I. We must both be plagued with amnesia, a foggy blight of forgetfulness caused by our mutual head trauma. Tell me stranger, do I seem familiar to you? For thy beauteous face seems a pleasing mystery. Sadly, I recall nothing, yet I have an idea as to our dire situation. Clear it is that we are strongly attracted to each other. Perhaps you and I met, not long ago, and blessed by love at first sight, we devoted ourselves to one another,

Sayin’ it’s “hotter than Hades” is a common misconception. Hades ain’t all that hot. It’s humid but it ain’t scorchin’. Wanna know how I know? You see there was this Greek Goddess, Percy-phony. And uh, Hades kidnapped her and spirited her away to the underworld. And they had a garden with pomegranates and such, so it couldn’t of been too hot or the fruit wouldn’t grow. Percy-phony’s Greek Goddess Mama was awful sad that she had to marry against her will, so spring and summer sort of dried up and

So, looks like everyone is having a marvelous time. Hello, good to see you. Nice to meet you. Hi there, I’m the Wicked Witch, here’s my card. Let’s do lunch sometime. Ah, and here’s the birthday girl, surrounded by all of these gifts and her good little fairy friends. And here’s King Jonathan and Queen Jessica. You certainly invited a great number of people. But somehow you seemed to have overlooked the one person who could have been your most delightful guest. But no, no, don’t apologize. My feelings are

That's not true. Young women need the Prom. It's a rite of passage as sacred as getting your driver's license or buying your first bra. There are only a few things in life that are guaranteed to be glorious and memorable and sparkling with gowns and cummerbunds. Prom is the quintessential teenage experience. Think of the unlucky grown-ups and the elderly who lament the day they decided not to go to the Prom. It is a key ingredient to a happy and meaningful life. Prom is short for Promenade, a

What do I look for in a man? Oh, what every simple woman wants, I suppose. A man who is kind, and who is honest, unless of course his honesty would be unkind, then he should be diplomatic, but still firm, both in integrity and physique. He should be devilishly handsome and angelically humble. And whether it be the rolling seas or the towering skyscrapers, he should love his work, and love it even more when he rushes home to ask how my day has been. The sort of man

What do I think of the play? How very brave of you to ask me. Hmm. What do I think of your play. I am on the verge of boredom. Utter boredom. I have been told that the playwright once taught English at the community college level, and it shows. In fact, it seems as though the bulk of this claptrap is derived from the playwright's lecture notes shortly before his students drove him insane. And that's the primary flaw of the play. It's too educational. Theater should enlighten with

You there! Yes you. Little human in your stupid little boat and your funny little yellow hat and raincoat that makes you look like a rubber ducky. Why are you standing up? You should be kneeling down. Do you know who I am, you little oxygen-inhaling freak? Anytime you stick your head in the water, you are in my kingdom. I am Emperor Tropico, ruler of all the seas. The dreaded sharks cower in my presence. the monstrous squid looks at my and cries like a little girl. I am

Young man, I am very busy. Would you please take your gawking eyes and your bubble-gum belabored jaws elsewhere? When you return next week, you’ll find some significant changes have been made. As the new librarian, I have been placed in charge of reorganization and redistribution. And in the process I am removing a few unnecessary novels. Too much fantasy and folly can spoil a child’s mind. This library needs more science and less Dr. Seuss. More history and less Hogwarts. Children need academics and not adventures. One doesn’t get into a

Yyyyyyyyyyyou aren't very bright, are you? You commit sacrilege as you bumble through these sacred halls. You defile my royal resting place and dare to steal my amulet. I would love nothing better than to tear you to pieces. Fortunately for you, I'm feeling a bit under the weather. When I was a younger mummy, only 800 years old or so, I could mutilate grave robbers all afternoon. Now all it takes is one decapitation and I'm ready for a nap. No, I shall not kill you, lowly one. But

I guess the search for more refined forms of punishment never come to an end. After all there are so many ways life can be squeezed out of a human body. Can a method be found that is more in keeping with the essential sweetness of our human nature? A rather crewl queen once plaintively asked or so it is said. I loved him so much it was a kind of torture. Every morning, waiting, watching his face in those squirming long moments of sleep and half sleep as he turned

[Hobbles in, limping grotesquely] Oh, is that you, Marie? [Groan] I'm glad you came over to see me, 'cause I'm most dead. I ain't been behind my counter fer five days now, and day before yesterday I was in bed with my nerves. Honest, I thought I'd had a stroke.

[Sticks her head in the door; the head only is visible to the audience.] Say, ain't it my turn next? All right, I'm comin'. [Enters.] Here I be, sassy as a woodchuck and twicet as handsome. You know who I be, don't you? I'm little Sis Hopkins from Skinny-marink

Good afternoon, Mrs. Boyer. How do you do, ladies! Isn't it a lovely day. I saw some cars out in front, Mrs. Boyer, and I thought Willie and I would just drop over and spend the afternoon with you. Willie is so fond of company. Say "How do you do" to the ladies, Willie.

Good evening, Mrs. Audience, And Mr. Audience, too; I hope you're glad to see me, And will like me 'fore I'm through.

Have yeez heard about me good fortune? Ould Mrs. Pinnymint doied, she did, and what do ye think?--She lift me a furnished bungaloo in her will. Oi been her cook fer twinty years and she had so much money she didn't know who to lave it all to. She lift Dinnis the coachman

I've made up my mind at last. I'll throw convention to the winds and show the world that I'm a new woman. I'll do it--I'll do it to-night! I'll propose to Reginald Brady. [A little faster.] I've considered the question from every possible stand-point and I've

Suppose you was a kid like me, And ma would take you on her knee And fill the wash rag full of soap, And hold you tight as any rope,

Vell, Sarah Goldfish, maybe I ain't a tired voman already. My, ain't you got a style today mit a new lace collar an' a clean dress, an' ever'thing. Me, I ain't got no more time for to be stylish. Like to a slave I am, mit three children, und a dog, und funerals all

[Looking up into the sky.] Hello? Mother Moon? It's me. Joy. Can you hear me? [Pause.] Hello?

He was probably worried you'd find out from one of the girls. Cynthia perhaps. I always liked Cynthia. I found her very pleasant. Don't you? Yes, I adored her. We used to get along quite well, Cynthia and I. We'd even meet for lunch now and then. Although she never warned me.

Hey! Don't touch that! That's my orange! MINE!!! Sorry. I'm sorry. I ... I don't mean to be stingy. I'm sure you're very hungry, but I can't allow you to eat this orange. It's just that ... well, it's

I wonder what we're doing here. [Pause.] Perhaps we've come to collect seashells. Although, if that's the case, we haven't been very successful, have we?

My husband is very experienced. He's been with hundreds of women. Thousands. On our wedding day alone, he impregnated seven bridesmaids, two caterers, the photographer, the photographer's assistant, her youngest daughter, the preacher's wife, my third-grade English teacher, a marine biologist, two blue whales, and one old woman who just

WHERE IS HE?! He ... he said he'd always be here! And now ... he's ... it's all ... it's all falling apart ... and he's not ... he's not here to ... to put it all ... [Pause.]

Carter, do you think I'm boring?....."

What were you going to say? Let me guess... you're just a kid. That's what it always boils down to, isn't it? But, just like any other human on this planet, I do have feelings. Yes, I do. I feel pain. I feel sadness and sometimes like my life's not worth anything. But, I'm always too young to understand right? Then tell me, when are my feelings going to count for something? When is my life going to mean something? If us "kids" really are just kidding ourselves, and we

I have given some temptation that has not been resisted. My witnesses are not present-----but I confess I have had favours from persons-----I can show letters, lockets, pictures, and rings, and if there be occasion for witnesses, I can summon the maids at the chocolate-houses, all the porters of the Pall-Mall and Covent Garden, the door-keepers at the play-house, the drawers at Locket's, Pontack's, the Rummer, Spring Garden; my own landlady and valet du chambre; all who shall make oath that I receive more letters than the Secretary's Office;

How can you talk of Heaven! and have so much wickedness in your heart? May be you don't think it a sin,-----they say some of you Gentlemen don't think it a sin,-----may be it is no sin to them that don't think it so;-----indeed, if I did not think it a sin,-----but still my honour, if it were no sin,-----but then, to Marry my Daughter, for the convenience of frequent opportunities,-----I'll never consent to that, as sure as can be, I'll break the Match. I know Love is powerful, and

Well, how shall I receive him? In what figure shall I give his heart the first impression? There is a great deal in the first impression. Shall I sit? --No, I won't sit -- I'll walk -- aye, I'll walk from the door upon his entrance; and then turn full upon him. --No, that will be too sudden. I'll lie -- aye, I'll lie down -- I'll receive him in my little dressing-room; there's a couch -- yes, yes, I'll give the first impression on a couch. --I won't lie

And so have I address'd me. Fortune now To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base lead. 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'

How should I your true-love know From another one? By his cockle bat and' staff And his sandal shoon. Say you? Nay, pray You mark. [Sings] He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it and approve it with a text,

They bore him barefac'd on the bier (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) And in his grave rain'd many a tear. Fare you well, my dove! You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Out of this wood

Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I'll carry it to the pile. It would become me As well as it does you:

Anjou and Maine are given to the French, Paris is lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. I cannot blame them all. What is't to them? 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone, While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them and wrings his

Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These My lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone:

Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown. Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurged wouldst vow That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savored in thy taste, Unless I spake, or looked, or touched, or carved to thee. How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it, That thou art then estrangFd from thyself? Thyself I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than

By day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it. His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him. Say I am sick. If you come slack of former services, You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. [Horns within.] Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question.

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things, And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more Than thee, all noble CORIOLANUS. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I

Have I not reason, beldams as you are, Saucy and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never called to bear my part Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now: get you gone And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i' th' morning. Thither

Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing: I hear it sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the

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 winged 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

I do not strain at the position,â€” It is familiar,â€”but at the author's drift; Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of any thing, Though in and of him there be much consisting, Till he communicate his parts to others: Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them form'd in the applause Where they're extended; who, like an arch, reverberates The voice again, or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure

I left no ring with her. What means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her. She made good view of me; indeed, so much That, as methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me sure; the cunning of her passion Invites 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 wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy

I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: Cursed be I that did so! All the charms Of

I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state, whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! What good condition can a treaty find I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, CORIOLANUS, I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me, And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By the elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation Hath not that honour in't it had; for

If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to contest you, Our true intent is. All for your

Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Is it not strange and strange? It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than

My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonioâ€” I pray thee, mark meâ€”that a brother should Be so perfidious!â€”he whom next thyself Of all the world I loved and to him put The manage of my state; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported

My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed, Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped Showed like a stubble land at harvest home. He was perfumFd like a milliner, And twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff; and still

Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity

No, holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever loved the life removed And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, A man of stricture and

No, I defy all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death; O amiable lovely death! Thou odouriferous stench! sound rottenness! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows And ring these fingers with thy household worms And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust And be a carrion monster like thyself: Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest