Men's Monologues    (blue is for boys!)    
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From Published Scripts

Humorous

    Dramatic

Classic Pieces

(The City of Industry, CA. Present day. Five PM. A bus stop. ALEJANDRA waits for a bus. She ‘.s exhausted after working an eight hour day in a factory. JOHN comes running up to her He*s run a long distance. He is exhausted from working the same job.)

The Actor's Nightmare
By: Christopher Durang
GEORGE

Setting: A theater Situation: An accoutant named George Spelvin is baffled to find himself on the stage of a theatre. The stage manager tells him that "Eddie" (Edwin Booth) has been in a car accident and George will have to go on for him. The curtian goes up on a play with is either Private Lives, Checkmate or Hamlet. George wings it as well as he can, but is lost when his co-stars exeunt.

Oh don't go! (Pause, smiles uncomfortably at the audience.) Maybe someone else will come out in a minute. (Pause.) Of course, sometimes people have soliloquies in Shakespeare. Let's just wait a moment more and maybe someone will come. (Spotlight suddenly flashes on GEORGE.) Oh dear. (GEORGE fidgets awkwardly then decides to do his best to live up to the requirements of the moment.) To be or not to be, that is the question! (Doesn't know any more.) Oh maid! (No response, he remembers that actors call for "line") Line. LINE! Ohhhhh. Oh, what a rouge and peasant slave am I Wheater tis nobler in the mind's eye to kill oneself, or not dreams are made on ; and our lives are rounded by a little sleep. (Lights change. Spot goes out.) Uh, thrift, thrift, Horatio! Neither a borrower nor a lender be. But to thine own self be true. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. Extraordinary how potent cheap music can be. Out, out damn spot! I come to wive it wealthily in Padua. (Sings.) Brush up your Shakespeare, start quoting him now...Da da da!!! (GEORGE moves center stage) I wonder whose yacht that is. How was China? Very large, China. How was Japan? Very small, Japan. (Looks around nervously, then says the first thing that comes to mind.) I pledge alliegance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under god, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. Line! Line! Line! Oh my god. (Gets idea.) O my god, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee , and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all they offend thee, GOD, who art all good and deserving of my love. And I resolve to confess my sins, to do pennace, and to ammend my life. AMEN! (Friendly.) That's the act of contrition that Catholic schoolmasters say in confession in order to be forgiven for their sins. But ARGH! I'm not Catholic or a school master! What am I doing? (Explaining) When you call for a line, usually the stage manager gives it to you! Y'know to just refresh your memory! LINE! The quality of mercy if not strained. It droppith as the gentle rain upon the place below. Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him well. Get thee to a nunnery!! Line! Nunnery! Oh who am I kidding? I am an accountant. I've studied ogarithms, and cosine and tangent...... (irritated.) LINE! (Apoligetic.) I'm sorry. This is supposed to be Hamlet or Private Lives or something. And I keep on rattling like a maniac. And I expected to see Edwin Booth, and now I have to go on for him! I'm so embarassed. Line! I don't know what else to do? (Sings alphabet song.) A B C D E F G......etc. (As he starts to sing, ELLEN TERRY enters dragging to large garbage cans. She puts them side by side, and gets in one.) Oh, good. Are you Ophelia? Get thee to a nunnery. (She points to the other garbage can indicating he should get in it.) Get in? Ok! (He does) This must be one of those modern Hamlets.

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ALBUM
By: David Rimmer
BOO
This scene takes place in Boo's room at school. Boo is sixteen, fast talking and fidgety.

Hey...I just remembered this dream I had last night. I was at this big post party in London, at this really rich house. It was really high up and there was these big picture windows, you could see all the river and the lights of the town. I was with this girl-- you know who it was? Trish. We were just lookin' out the window--And all these rich little old ladies started runnin'' around all over the place, all excited, saying' Mick Jagger's coming, isn't that wonderful, Mick Jagger's coming. They came up to us and they told us be careful cause the latest thing in London now was sadism, and Mick was really into it. Then they flitted away, laughin' and eatin' hors d'oeuvres and stuff, and everybody was just waitin' for Mick to show up. Finally he did, he just walked right in, Marianne Faithfull was with him -- she had purple hair. And this whole crowd of little old ladies swarmed all around him. They introduced me to him, and he was incredibly scary-looking, his face, he really made me scared just lookin' at him. He had lipstick on and make-up and he was dressed like a woman, but it was more like he really was a woman, a woman and a man at the same time. All of a sudden he started pullin' my hair really vicious, and he had these bracelets on that were made outta spikes, they jabbed into me, I saw drops of blood drippin' off' em like a horror movie. I screamed or somethin', I just ran away I was so scared. I ended up in this room away from the party, nobody around, and I saw this guy sittin' on a couch, just sittin' there by himself, really quiet, watchin' TV. I sat down and watched the TV for a couple of minutes, then I turned and looked at the guy...and it was Dylan.

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THE DAYS & NIGHTS OF BEEBEE FENSTERMAKER
By: William Snyder
BOB

A young man with an Arkansas accent has shows up at Beebee's apartment, believing that a friend of his lives there. Beebee, along on her birthday, has invited him in, and in this scene, he talks about himself.

My name is Bob Smith, care of Claude and Esther Berry Smith, Box 231, Hughes, Arkansas. I'm twenty-five years old and I have an eighth grade education. My daddy run me clean out of town. Bought me a one way ticket on a Trailways Bus. Told me he'd buy me a one way ticket to anyplace in the U.S.A. Even rode with me as far as Le-Hi. (Pronounced Lee-High) to make sure I didn't pull a fast one and slip back after sundown. He said Hughes wasn't big enough for the both of us. Hughes is tee-ninecy all right. But I didn't think it was that small. Last I seen of my Daddy was when the bus puled into Le-Hi. he got off the bus and bought me a Dr. Pepper and this comic book. (pulls a comic book from hip pocket) He said, "Well, so long, Bob. I'll see you in the funny papers." Before I could even say anything he skipped across the highway and was thumbin a ride back to Hughes. That was the last I seen of my daddy. The very last I seen of him before he took off for Hughes. I bet he was back there before supper. I know he's back there by now. (Pleasantly. He looks at the kitchen table) I wonder what Momma and Daddy had for supper? Fried chicken most likely. I sure do love friend chicken. I sure do miss Hughes. I never been no further than Blackfish Lake cept the time Momma and Daddy took me up to hear Reverend Moore Preach a revival at Proctor. Momma's a bug on religion, but old Reverend Moore's one somebody sure igged her. Reverend Moores the shoutin foot stompin kind of religion, and Momma's is the toe the line, hoe the row kind. They don't even sing in Momma's church. It was started up right there in Hughes by Reverend Bitsie Trotter. He does odd jobs with a pick-up truck during the week. Folks said the reason he didn't allow singing was cause he couldn't carry a tune.

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BEYOND THERAPY
by Christopher Durang
STUART

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

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BILOXI BLUES
by Neil Simon
Arnold

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

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My point is you can*t do me no harm if you make me out to be a mugg. Maybe you*ll help me. Everybody gets scared, and for me that*s good. Everybody scares easy. You can*t hurt me. All you can do is build me up or shut up. Have a drink. I thought you wanted to intraview me. (A pause.) I was born in Jersey. Plainfield, New Jersey. 1907. I went to work when I was twelve years old and I been workin* ever since. I tell you my first job. A paper route. (He pronounces it ‘rowt.* bought a kid out with a swift kick in the keester. And I been working ever since. I tell you how I*m the top man in my racket. I been in it over twenty-five years. In the same racket Junk. Not steel. Junk. Look, don*t butter me up. I*m a junk man. I ain*t ashamed to say it. Lemme give you some advice, sonny boy. Never crap a crapper. I can sling it with the best of ~em! I tell you. I*m a kid with a paper route. I got this little wagon. So on my way home nights, I come through the alleys pickin* up stuff. I*m not the only one. All the kids are doin* it. Only difference is, they keep it. Not me. I sell it. First thing you know, I*m makin~ seven, eight bucks a week from that. Three bucks from papers. So I figure out right off which is the right racket. I*m just kid, mind you, but I could see that. Pretty soon, the guy I*m sellin* to is handin* me anywheres from fifteen to twenty a week. So he offers me a job for ten! Dumb jerk. I*d be sellin* this guy his own stuff back half the time and he never knew. (Relishing the memory.) Well, in the night, see, I*m under the fence (A shovel-like gesture with both hands) and I drag it out (He does so.) and load up. (Puts stuff on his back.) In the morning (Tracing the way with a wide arc.) I bring it in the front way and collect! (Pockets imaginary money, gleefully.) So pretty soon I owned the whole yard. This guy, the jerk? He works for me now. (Happily.) And you know who else works for me? That kid whose paper route I swiped. (Magnanimously.) I figure I owe ‘im. (Modestly.) That*s how I am..

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THE BOY WHO ATE THE MOON
By Jane Martin
James

I’m James. I’m dying. The moon is inside me. It went down my throat but it’s not there now. No, I’ve never done drugs of any kind. The date? It’s the 17^th. I’m dying of distension. I’ll explode, I suppose. I have something in mye…you know, pressing, pressing out. It grows in there and it presses out... presses the feeling out. The feelings. Plural. Is my .. hand hot? The pressing makes me hot. I've been getting a little hotter each day for several years. It used to be I could control it with ice cream. I would eat ice cream but now it melts without cooling and I don't like the sweet taste. Winter was good. Lying down in the snow was good, but I got so hot that steam...steam came out of me like I was smoking. I can boil water with my right hand. I can't take a bath anymore.. .showers, sure...I mean I'm not dirty or anything... but a bath, after a few minutes, it could boil me like a lobster. I warm the air. Can you feel it? Melanie can't touch me anymore. Well, I mean for a second, sure.. .like you touched my hands... But for longer... you know.. .not anymore. People only want you to give off so much heat... I'll move further back if you want me to. Last night I could see my hands in the dark. It suddenly occurred to me that I was going to ignite. I think it must be very painful to burn...I mean that's different from heat. I would be very afraid to burn... Remember how they taught you that by rubbing two sticks... well that's.. .my inside rubs against my outside. It was raining last night so I figured it would put me out. I went out... went out in the rain and down by the laundromat.. .down by Spring Street there was a pool and the moon...I was pretty sure that if the rain on the outside, the outside'.of me didn't... well then I'd just drink the water... put me out that way... but I wasn't... you know... thinking clearly and I.. .and I swallowed the moon. Well just the beginning of one... part of a moon. It's going to grow inside me.. .you know.. .for however many days... making pressure...making me hotter...I'm uh...I'm uh going to leak flame. . .I'm pretty sure it will set me on fire... you know, in my condition…see the thing is that once you start getting hot it’s really hard to cool down.

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

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(A chant.) Spare a little change, your luck might change. Spare a little change, your luck might change. (A beat.) You believe in luck? Never mind. Doesn*t matter. ‘Cause I*m about to tell you a little secret. This is a little secret I know. I know it right down to the bone. I*m gonna tell you this secret so you can know the truth. Then you can stop wonderin*. And when you stopped wonderin* and you know the truth, then maybe you*ll slip a little somethin* into my cup. You like this cup? Found it. Found it right there ‘bout where you standin* at. Seen a man come out that little cafe ‘crosst the street he had this little cup in his hand. Dropped it. Dropped it in the gutter right there ‘bout where you standin* at. Fat, short little man. Had this big coat on, had some kinda fur ‘round the collar. Had it turned up half up to his face so it just about touch his hat where it come down on his head, so*s you could only see a little bit o* face kinda, you know, peekin* out. Pink face. Short, fat little pink face man. I pick up this cup here, and I shook out the last few drops of coffee, an* I held it out to this man, say, "Spare a little change, your luck might change." So this fella he look at me he say, "That don*t rhyme. Can*t rhyme ‘change* wif ‘change.* Can*t rhyme a word wif its own self." I say, "I don*t claim to be rhymin*. I*m just astin* for a handout." He walked. Didn*t gimme nothin* either. But I got this cup off ‘im, so I guess that*s somethin*. (A beat.) Spare a little change, your luck might change. (A beat.) I ain*t forgot. I*m gettin* to it. You wanna know that secret I promised you. Here it is. Whether you believe in luck or not, it still is. Damn, that*s all there is. It*s all luck. Good luck and bad luck and dumb luck. Everything there is and everything there ain*t it*s just luck. I know ‘cause I lived luck. How come I*m here on this corner in these pissy pants talkin* to you is luck. May not be good luck, but it*s luck. Very happy to make your acquaintance. My name is Broadway Vic. This here*s my corner. You got a dollar?

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CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF
by Tennessee Williams
BRICK

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

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DRIVE ANGRY
by Matt Pelfrey
Rex
Rex the Mex behind the wheel. Chemo-Boy rides shotgun.

Concrete, concrete, concrete...lights, neon, billboards...... rich cars, poor cars, ugly cars, dented cars, cars with tint, with our-of-state plates, cars with vanity plates...cars with loser zoos, cars with stupid bumper stickers, cars with no bumpers, hot rods, jeeps, vans, busses...Asian dudes, Armenian dudes, Arab dudes, black dudes, brown dudes, white dudes. . .everyone mixing, merging, honking...Like this freeway is just a big concrete bloodstream full of mechanical germs.. .angry mechanical germs...Can I give you a lift tomorrow to where? Oh, man, your chemo treatment? What time? Nine o'clock? (Slightly annoyed.) Yeah, I can give you a ride. I'm not annoyed... I just wanted to sleep in. (Increasingly annoyed) I'll drive you! I said I'd drive you...I said I would stinkin' drive you, okay? Stop sniveling.You are. You're sniveling like some kinda victim. Little Chemo-Boy suffering from cancer. Waaaaa! You're not even losing your hair. I mean, you know, what kind of wimpy cancer you got that your chemo doesn't make you go bald? You know? On TV, all the cool cancer patients go bald. Your stuff doesn't do that? It's cause you got pussy chemo. No, I'm not being a jerk. I'm chemo for your manhood. You heard me. I'm like chemo for your whatever, yeah, your manhood. I won't let you become one of those people who start to feed off their disease. My uncle got pancreatic cancer, and that's what he became. Pancreatic Cancer Man. Everything was about his disease. How he's "bravely battling cancer." All that disease hype. The whole time, I'm thinking, what's so damn brave about battling something that you have no choice about? You got cancer. You deal with it. Its like how we treat cops and firemen. They save someone, they catch a killer, and, yeah, that's great, but it's their job. It's not like some civilian that risks his life to intervene and save someone. A cop or fireman has no choice. That’s no more than what's expected. It's their job. They're not being heroes, they're earning a paycheck and enjoying a privileged position in society. Let me ask you a question. Let me pose a thought to you...Why did you get cancer? But what did the doctors tell you? But at your age, ass cancer is rare. So why did this stuff grow inside of you? You may not know, but I do. I do, man. I really do. What you continually fail to grasp, my diseased little friend, is that I am not burdened by over-education. I haven't spent eight years after high school getting taught how to think or what pre-packaged crock to spout so that I appear smart at parties and espresso bars. I actually think. I have forced myself to remain open to the Cosmic Whatever. My diagnosis? Existential pollution. That is all the crap out there. All the crap that pisses you off and eats at you day in and day out. All that crap has crawled up inside your ass and died like a sick rat. And that got everything infected. What kind of crap? Well, as I touched on already Call the chicks that piss us off, our crappy jobs, our parents and especially the psychotic, selfish, assholic drivers who plague us every day of our lives. You see, all these elements are out there, like secondhand smoke "like smog" it's drifting, hanging in the air, contaminating our world. Am I right? You know I am. Food for thought? It's a stinking all-you-can-eat buffet and it's all true. Feast on that for a while, my friend. Feast on that.

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DYLAN
(dramatic)

I'm me. I smoke too much. I drink too much. I never like to go to bed. But when I go to bed, I never like to have to get up! I sleep with women. I'm not much on men. Necrophilism---that's with dead bodies---leaves me cold. I never watch the clock and it doesn't pay much attention to me. I write poems and I read 'em out loud. I lie, I cry, I laugh, I cheat, I steal, when I can. I must have an iron constitution as I've been abusing it for years to an extent which'd kill a good horse in a matter of hours. I love people, rich and poor people, dumb as well as smart people. people who like poetry and people who never heard of poetry. I'm life's most devoted, most passionate, most shameless lover. I must be. And I like a good party and a good time and applause and lost of pats on my back and pots and hats full of money which I then spend without thinking. Comforts make me comfortable; nails in my shoe, an ache in my tooth and grit in my eye do not. I'm not as confused as anyone I ever met or heard of. Because I am me. And I know me. I've sung a few songs just for the pleasure of singing, but now I have come to a point in my life when I think I have something to say. I think it's something about having the guts to thumb your nose at the social shears that clip the wings of the human heart in our mushrooming, complex, cancerous age. I'm hot for fireworks in the dull of night. I want the factual killing world should go back to fancy kissing for it's livelihood. I'm about to write a play on my own, my first called UNDER MILKWOOD. And I've been offered to play the lead in a play on Broadway. Things are looking up. But I'm spitting a lot of blood and blacking out more often than I'm used to. and I think I had a touch of the d.t.'s this past week as I've started seeing things that aren't there---mice, for example. Miss Meg Stuart, my friend, suggested that I come to see you, Doctor, as it's entirely possible and not a little ironic, now that things are finally looking up...that I'm dying.

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EAT YOUR HEART OUT
By: Nick Hall
CHARLIE

This is a humorous play that takes place in a Manhattan restaurant. Charlie is a personable and attractive young waiter who wants to be an actor. Between comical scenes with customers, he comes downstage and talks directly to the audience.

If there's one thing I can't stand in theater, it's walking out along on stage at the beginning of the evening to open a show cold. (Grins) But it's better than waiting tables. I'm Charlie (ironic)...your waiter for the evening. I'd rather be on stage tonight. Waiting tables is a toy job. You probably don't know what a toy job is. I'll explain. A toy job is a job that you don't really care about, that you do to make a living, while you wait for the chance to do the job you want to do. (Beat. He measure the audience) But maybe you know already. Being a waiter is sort of a standard job for an actor, it's expected. I mean, if you're a dentist or an insurance salesman and someone ways "where're ya' working' nowadays?", and you say, "I'm a waiter at this little French place on fifty-sixth street," they think you're a failure. But if you're an actor, they understand. So. (Indicates the restaurant with a gesture) Ici, personne ne parle francais. (Beat) That's the name of the place (Beat) Yeah, well I didn't get it the first time either. It means no one here speaks French. It's really a lunch place. At lunch they use four waiters. After lunch through dinner: one waiter. (Indicates himself) We just get a few semi-regulars in the evening, and now, between lunch and dinner, nothing. (By now Charlie has started to fiddle with things on the tables.) The food's good, French, reasonable. At lunch you can get a great meal here for about three-fifth, four bucks. Of course, the price soars if you start ordering little extras like coffee.

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Miss Zubritsky! (He turns aside, dazed.) Is that my breath that has just been taken away? Is that vision before me human or have I too been cast under the spell? Never have I felt such a stirring beneath my breast Watch yourself, Leon! She is your pupil, not the object of your dormant feelings of passion. (He turns back to them.) Excuse me.. Won*t you please sit down, Miss Zubritsky? Miss Zubritsky—may I call you Sophia? Please, madame. We must allow the girl to speak for herself. (To SOPHIA.) I should like very much to be your friend. Would it please you if I called you Sophia? I think she wants to say something. I*ve come a very long way to help you with you education. I have every reason to believe that under ordinary circumstances, you have the capability of being an extremely bright and intelligent young woman, that deep inside you somewhere is an intellect just crying to be heard, that you have enormous powers of reason. But someone has put a cloud over these powers and it is my intention to remove this cloud so that enlightenment can once more shine through those unbelievably crystal-clear blue eyes once again. But I need your help, Sophia. Will you give me that help? I should like to ask you a few very simple questions. If we are to begin your education, it is important that I know at what point to begin. It won*t be taxing, I promise you. I would never want to be the cause of a furrow or frown on that fair face . . . Now, then — what is your favorite color? Yes, is it red or blue or green or orange? Any color at all. Which one is your favorite? I*ll ask you once again, Sophia. What-is-your-favorite-color? Yellow! Her favorite color is yellow! Why, Sophia? Why is yellow your favorite color? Because it doesn*t stick to your fingers as much? That*s a very interesting answer, Sophia. There is a certain logic to her response. The fact that that logic escapes me completely doesn*t alter the fact that she has something in mind. Sophia, I*m going to ask you something quite simple now. I*m going to ask you to make a wish. Do you know what a wish is? If you could make a wish that did come true, anything at all, what would you wish for? Sophia, that is the most beautiful wish I have ever heard. (To the Sophia’s parents) Don*t you see what her wish means? To fly like a bird means to sever the bonds that chain her to ignorance. She wants to soar, to grow, she wants knowledge! And with every fiber of my being, from the very depths of my soul. I shall gather all my strength and patience and dedication, and I make this promise that I, Leon Steponovitch Tolchinsky, shall make Sophia Zubritsky*s wish come true. She touches me so. Your daughter has such a sweet soul and such a pure heart. We must begin as soon as possible. Not another moment must be lost. I shall return in the morning at eight o*clock sharp. What subject shall we begin our studies with, Sophia? Languages! Of course! Even I should have thought of that. Languages it shall be, my dear, sweet Sophia. . . And what language shall we begin with first? Rabbit?

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God, what is all this? You can*t keep something like this quiet. Captain, why don*t you take these, um — bodies (Indicates the bodies.) and put them someplace safe for now, ok? Is everyone dead? The whole family, I mean? Two families?! No one*s left? Of the whole royal —? They all just kill— each other, or what? Say, who*s in charge now, anyway? I mean, who can understand all this stuff? So, what you’re telling me is a ghost appears to Hamlet and tells him his uncle killed his father, so Hamlet pretends to go crazy — or maybe he really is, who cares? — and he decides to kill his uncle. But he stalls around for a long time instead, kills a guy who*s not his uncle, gets sent to England, gets rescued by pirates, comes back and kills everybody — including himself. I mean, come on. Horatio, we*ve got to have a new story. You want to tell everyone in Denmark that their entire royal family killed itself, plus a family of reasonably innocent nobles, plus two attendant lords? Good God, Horatio — how much do you think people can take? No one wants to hear their whole royal family*s incompetent. Personally, I think we should just replace the whole story. We need a story that*ll do something for us: explain the bodies, preserve the monarchy, give the people some kind of focus for all their — I don*t know — anger, loss, whatever. And most of all, something that*ll show people that everything that*s happened up till now had to happen so that I could become king. I know how I*d like to explain it. A Polish spy. It*s the perfect idea. Look — the Poles, bitter at Claudius*s pact with my uncle to grant me and my troops free passage through Denmark so that I can kick their Polish butts, send a spy to the court here in Elsinore. His job is to destroy the entire Danish royal family. You know, as a lesson to all who would conspire against the Polish crown — all that crap. Anyhow, he successfully sabotages the fencing match, bares the swordtip, poisons the weapon, the wine — see how easy this is, all one guy — sets the unsuspecting participants against each other in a sort of frenzy of sudden rage and paranoia, and executes the most extraordinary mass-regicide in the history of Europe. And we can even add a lot of stuff about the horror when the royal Danes, each mortally wounded and/or poisoned, suddenly realized that Poland had achieved its ultimate revenge — blah, blah, blah. You don’t think it will be believed, Horatio? I bet it will be. It*s just so much better. Anyone can understand it. And the best thing is, it gives me that historical reason-for-being that*s so important to a new king. You see? I*m here to save Denmark from an imminent attack by Poland. (Horatio looks incredibly dubious.) Of course, if you want to tell people that ridiculous story of yours, be my guest. But I*ll bet mine*s the one that catches on. (He winks conspiratorially)

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THE GINGERBREAD LADY
by Neil Simon
JIMMY

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

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Guess who! Well, don’t you look just like yourself? Don’t you though, your honor? Dead. You can’t imagine how safe I feel. ‘Course, I had a lotta time to think about it while I was in reform school. That's about all I can say for Gatesville. Plenty of time to think. Yeah, Judge, I had to nuzzle up to that homely housekeeper of yours. Yolanda. She thought I was in love. Oh, I kept it up 'til I got me a copy of all her keys. And I got all my information bit by bit. Ya know, like her schedule and your schedule and that one hour- that one hour on Wednesday morning when you were all alone. When she went out to buy groceries. Yeah, I found out about that, and I set you up. I just parked across from the Piggly Wiggly and waited. And when I seen Yolanda go into that store, I done a beeline to your house. Drove right up the curvin' driveway. Walked right through the goddamned front door, right up the stairs to your bedroom. And all you could do was lay there on your half-paralyzed ass and stare, but you knew what I was there for, didn't you? You knew! Man, it was hell gettin' you into that swimsuit! It was worth it. But you wanna know what my favorite part was? Huh? You wanna know what my favorite part was, your honor? It was when I pulled out that syringe, and you started pleading with me. You pleading with me! And all it took to finish you off was a few air bubbles, right in the vein. . . just a few little air bubbles - stroke! I guess we're even. Then why don't I feel like it, huh? You know, someday, after my mama's dead, I may just turn myself in. Won't everybody be surprised? Oh, I can hear 'em now: "Why, who would have thought Stanley Bumiller would have the brains to pull that off?" Sheee. . .

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HOOTERS
by Ted Talley
RICKY

Is this far enough away? Okay. I'm glad your satisfied now. I'll just stay over here and do a little sunbathing. What? So, you'll cough once if the girl's a dog twice for something you should shut up because we might want to hit on it. Three coughs means they're out of range again. Cool! Four coughs could mean a chick who's kind of ugly but looks like she might have a nice personality, and five coughs means you got a piece of hotdog stuck in your throat. What is this, some kind of college trip? The guys down at the frat cooked this up, or what? Some plan. Lying twelve feet apart and coughing. Sounds like a t. b. ward. Maybe we'll get a couple of nurses. Oh ho HO! I don't see where you're such a big stud all of a sudden, Mr. BMOC! I'm not even gonna talk to you anymore, cause I don't need this, you understand? I don't need this advice. Not from old "Clint the Splint," strikeout king of Eisenhower High. The only place you ever made time was in study hall! (pause, a slowly dawning realization) The real reason you want to break up the act is so you can have her all to yourself. I did spot her first, in case you're wondering. I'm keeping you in my sights at all times from now on. If you're planning on sneaking out and asking her to go for a drink or something, you can just forget it, because I'll be right on your heels. I don't know how you could do that to your best buddy. I haven't even introduced you to this girl, and now you're practically planning to marry her. And don't tell me I'm paranoic, because you've changed, buster! You've changed from high school, and I know how your little brain is working. Get rid of the old Richard, right? Get her off alone and pour on this whole line of college crap, right, how goddam sophisticated you are or something,sure, if she won't go down for you she's bound to go down for Silas Marner. And who am I, I'm just this dumb schmuck that sells Pontiacs for his old ma. Well, you know what I think? I don't think this girl is even gonna give you the time of day! Chicks like here don't have to waste their time with assholes! Chicks like her can take one good look at a guy and tell right away whether or not he's some kind of moron! Just by the way he looks! And once they've made up their mind you're a dork, forget it!

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HAMLET
HORATIO
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
Why does the drum come hither?
 

What is it ye would see?
If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
(Thanks?)
Not from his mouth,
Had it the ability of life to thank you:
He never gave commandment for their death.
But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
Are here arrived give order that these bodies
High on a stage be placed to the view;
And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
How these things came about: so shall you hear
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
Truly deliver.

Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance
On plots and errors, happen.
(PRINCE FORTINBRAS this following is Fortinbras’s lines, but they seem to work to end this monologue for Horation.)

Let four captains
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
The soldiers' music and the rites of war
Speak loudly for him.
Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

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I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER
by Robert Anderson
GENE

Dad, I asked you to come with me to California. What do you want? What the hell do you want? If I lived here the rest of my life, it wouldn't be enough for you. I've tried, God damn it, I've tried to be the dutiful son, to maintain the image of the good son...Commanded into your presence on every conceivable occasion...Easter, Christmas, Birthdays, Thanksgiving...Even that Thanksgiving when Carol was dying, and I was staying with her in the hospital. "We miss you so. Our day is nothing without you. Couldn't you come up for an hour or two after you leave Carol?" You had no regard for what was really going on...My wife was dying! No, Dad, it's not terrible to want to see your son. It is terrible to want to possess him...entirely and completely! UNGRATEFUL!? What do you want for gratitude? Nothing, nothing would be enough. You have resented everything you ever gave me. The orphan boy in you has resented everything. I'm sorry as hell about your miserable childhood. When I was a kid, and you told me those stories, I used to go up to my room at night and cry. But there is nothing I can do about it..and it does not excuse everything...I am grateful to you. I also admire you and respect you, and stand in awe of what you have done with your life. I will never be able to touch it. But it does not make me love you. And I wanted to love you. You hated your Father. I saw what it did to you. I did not want to hate you. I came so close to loving you tonight...I'd never felt so open to you. You don't know what it cost me to ask you to come to California with me...when I have never been able to sit in a room alone with you...Did you really think your door was always open to me? Good bye, Dad

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Do you ever think about dying? I know I got years to worry about that but I can*t get it out of my mind. Sometimes I think if I don*t make it as a painter, I*m going to have to kill myself. You being a nymphomaniac...why? I mean, do you get any thrill or excitement from doing it; sex must be a mechanical act for you. Yeah? Then why do you do it? Stop. You could stop if you made up your mind. I*m a painter, Millie. A serious painter. And I know how to exercise self-control and self-discipline and how to say to myself, "no. I will not do this-and-this I will do that-and-that." You have to say the same thing to yourself, Millie. You have to say, "No. I will not give in to temptation. I will not under any circumstances be degraded and used by dirty old men and degenerate creeps who have no feelings for me as a person.~~You have to say that to yourself. And promise and swear that after today you will never, never go to bed with a man unless you*re married to him. I*ve become very fond of you, Millie.But you don*t have to start now, today! That*s not self-discipline. Self-discipline is when you say to yourself, ‘Tomorrow morning at eight o*clock sharp I*ll stop doing this dirty thing but up until eight o*clock sharp tomorrow morning I*ll do this dirty thing as much as I like." That*s self-discipline! Well, wait...I don’t mean today! Wait till tomorrow! But...(Calling after Millie as she exits.) Millie, wait a minute! Millie, don*t make a decision you*ll be sorry for! Millie!! I just bombed out with a nympho!

Hello, Keely. (No answer. She regards him.) Your dad*s well. I see him every day. I brought one flower because I didn*t know what else to bring. I got it out of your yard. (He puts it at the bottom of the bed and backs away again.) Are you all right? You look all right. (He turns to WALTER.) What I did, it was something an animal would do. I should have been killed for it. I would wake up in the middle of the night and think that. Every night. I couldn*t stand to look at myself. I didn*t like to look down and see my hands or my feet. I wouldn*t use a pen or a pencil because then you have to see your hand. I grew a beard because I couldn*t shave. I wore the same clothes all the time, I was up to a quart of booze a day. I was out. I wasn*t human anymore. I won*t describe it. Remember when we went down to Pensacola? That was some trip. Hey, I got your cat. I*m taking care of your cat You got it after, right? I*ve been wondering what its name is? Your cat. What its name is? It*s a great cat. I call it Stripes, you know, because I don*t know. (A long pause.) I would cut off my hand, you know, like they used to do. I would do that if it would make a difference. I would do anything. Anything. Take me back. Forgive me. I loved you in a bad way, a terrible way, and I sinned against your flesh and spirit. God forgive me. I*m an alcoholic but 1 don*t drink now. I don*t know. . .1 was. . .lived like. . .didn*t know right from wrong, but I*m with Jesus now. I accept him as my Lord and he leads me in his path. I will stay on the path. I will stay on the path. We were married, Keely, you are carrying my baby, let*s start from there. I put you on a pedestal, Keely, I do, I wouldn*t say it, and I am in the mud, I*m drowning and I ask you to lift me up and then we minister to this child. Jeez, Keely, our child. You know in my house, in my father*s house, Jeez, what were those kids, they were nuthin*, they were disposable. In your house, right, you know what a time you had. You know. But it can be different for him. I*m different, look in my eyes, you know that. Hey, my temper, you know, I don*t do that, it*s over. (Indicating WALTER.) Ask him is it over. I think about you every minute, every day. I want to dedicate my life to you, because it*s owed, it*s owed to you. You got my baby. I hurt you so bad you would kill a baby! That*s not you, who would describe you, you would do that? Jeez, Keely, don*t kill the baby. I brought a book we could look up names, we could do that tonight. You pick the name, I would be proud. I*m going to wait on you. You*re the boss. They got me a job. I*m employed. Five o*clock, I*m coming home. Boom. No arguments. I help with the house, we can be partners, I understand that guys, you know, we didn*t get it, you know, that was yesterday, that*s over. I*m back from the dead. I don*t say you should believe, me but because the baby you should test me out. You gotta take my hand here, we could start from there, I*m asking you. (His hand extended) You don*t have to ask me to be on my knees, I*m on my knees. What am I without you? I*m only what I did to you. I can*t demand. What could I demand? Choose to lift me up. Who else can you save, Keely, but me? I*m the only one you can save. This is make or break, Keely. Right now. Right now. Close your hand, take my hand. You know what I mean? One gesture, you could save me. We could raise a child. With one gesture we could do that. Come on, Keely. Come on, Keely.

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LONE STAR
BY James McLure
Roy

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LOST IN YONKERS
Neil Simon
Eddie

It’s so damn hot in here, isn’t it? …. So, I just had a talk inside with your grandmother … Because I’ve had a problem … When your mother and I had a problem, we always tried to keep it from you boys because we didn’t want to worry you … Well, you can’t keep cancer, a secret forever … You knew without me telling you, didn’t you? I did everything I could. The best doctors, the best hospitals I could get into … she had a nice room didn’t she? Semi-private, no wards or anything … We’re not rich people, boys. I know that doesn’t come as a surprise to you ... but I’m going to tell you something now I hoped I’d never have to tell you in my life … the doctors, the hospital, cost me everything I had … I was broke and I went into debt … So I went to a man … a loan shark … A money lender … I couldn’t go to a bank because they don’t let you put up heartbreak and pain as collateral … A loan shark doesn’t need collateral … His collateral is your desperation … So he gives you his money … And he’s got a clock. … And what it keeps time of is your promise. … If you keep your promise, he turns off the clock … and if not, it keeps ticking … and after a while, your heart starts ticking louder than his clock… Understand something. This man kept your mother alive… It was his painkillers that made her last days bearable… and for that I’m grateful… So you never take for yourself… But for someone you love, there comes a time when you have no choice… there’s a man in New York I owe… Nine thousand dollars… I could work and save four more years and I won’t have nine thousand dollars… He wants his money this year. To his credit, I’ll say one thing. He sent flowers to the funeral. No extra charge on my bill… There is no way I can pay this man back… So what’ll he do? Kill me? …Maybe… If he kills me, he not only loses his money, it’ll probably cost him again for the flowers for my funeral… I needed a miracle… And the miracle happened… this country went to war… A war between us and the Japanese and the Germans… And if my mother didn’t come to this country Thirty-five years ago, I could have been fighting for the other side… Except I don’t think they’re putting guns in the hands of Jews over there… Let me tell you something. I love this country. Because they took in the Jews. They took in the Irish, the Italians and everyone else… Remember this. There’s a lot of Germans in this country fighting for America, but there are no Americans over there fighting for Germany… I hate this war, and god forgive me for saying this, but it’s going to save my life… There are jobs I can get now that I could never get before… And I got a job… I’m working for a company that sells scrap iron… I thought you threw crap iron away. Now they’re building ships with it… Without even the slightest idea of what I’m doing, I can make that nine thousand dollars in less than a year. Don’t say it till I finish… The factories that I would sell to are in the South… Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Texas, even New Mexico. … I’d be gone about ten months … Living in trains, buses, hotels, any place I can find a room … We’d be free and clear and back together again in less than a year … Okay? So now come the question, where do you two live while I’m gone?
 

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The first paragraph is as "Butterfly," the "woman" who seduced Rene Gallimard, the French diplomat, a male. The second is as Song, the man, explaining to the court why is was so easy to deceive Gallimard.
"Am I your Butterfly? Yes, yes I am your Butterfly. I am your treasure. Though inexperienced, I am not...ignorant. They teach us things, our mothers, about pleasing a man. I'll do my best to make you happy. Turn off the lights...."
You ask how did he not know I was a man? He knew I needed the documents, and that was enough. And he never saw me completely naked. It is too simple. It was my job to make him think I was a woman. And chew on this: it wasn't all that hard. See, my mother was a prostitute along the Bundt before the Revolution.  And, uh, I think it's fair to say she learned a few things about Western men.  So, I borrowed her knowledge. In service to my country.  Would you like me to enlighten the court with this secret knowledge?  I'm sure you are all very curious.  Rule One:  Men always believe what they want to hear.  So a girl can tell the most obnoxious lies and the guys will believe them every time---"This is my first time"---"That's the biggest I've ever seen"---or both, which, if you really think about it t, is not possible in a single lifetime.  You've maybe heard those phrases a few times in your own life, yes, Your Honor?  (sly smile)  Sorry, just trying to lighten up the proceedings.  Okay, Rule Two:   As a western man comes into contact with the East--he's already confused. The West has sort of an international rape mentality towards the East. Do you know rape mentality. Basically it's "Her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes." The West thinks of itself as masculine--big guns, big industry, big money--so the East is feminine--weak, delicate, poor...but good at art, and full of inscrutable wisdom--the feminine mystique. Her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes. The West believes the East, deep down, wants to be dominated--because a woman can't think for herself. You expect Oriental countries to submit to your guns, and you expect Oriental women to be submissive to your men. That's why you say they make the best wives. When Monsieur Gallimard finally met his fantasy woman, he wanted more than anything to believe that she was, in fact, a woman., And second, I am an Oriental. And being an Oriental, I could never be completely a man. That's why you'll lose in all your dealings with the East.
 

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Merchant of Venice
SCENE IX. Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
ARRAGON

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THE MANDRAKE
by Machiavelli

I'd be surprised if there's a stupider person in the world than this worthless man. And yet look how Fortune has favored him! He's disgustingly rich. His wife is ravishing; she's elegant; she's smart. She's clever enough to rule a kingdom, as a matter of fact; and instead, she's the wife of a fool. That's why I really hate that old proverb, "God makes men and women in a heap, and they sort themselves into sweet little pairs." God-when I think how often I've seen really good men getting married to pigs, while the intelligent women give themselves willingly to maniacs and clowns…All the same, sometime I get such exquisite pleasure out of listening to the man talk-it's just so perfect, I really enjoy it-you know Lord Nicia, my friend. He's a very pinched and petty little man, and he's afraid to leave the city. But I inspired him a bit. He ended up saying that he'd do what I think best. So we could certainly get him to one of those resorts, if you still like that plan. But you know-I'm really no longer so certain that that our plan would best serve our interests. Well-I'm not quite sure. It's a feeling I have. You see, people of every kind come to these resorts. What if someone showed up there to whom this strikingly delicious -looking girl seemed just as exciting as she does to you?-I mean, someone let's say with a lot more money, or some devastating, irresistible charm-I mean, I don't know. But there's always that danger in a place like that-you wouldn't want to go through all that trouble just to benefit some other chap, if you see what I mean. Callimaco-please-please don't doubt me, Callimaco! Even if this situation should turn out not to have in any way the financial benefit for me that I believe it will have and certainly hope it will have, nonetheless there still would be a reason to trust me, you see, because-I feel we're people of the same kind, the same blood, Callimaco. Yes, my blood flows together with your, it really does, and my desire for you to achieve your chosen prize is, truly, almost as great as your own could ever be. -But let's not discuss this anymore. The professor has asked me to find him a doctor in order to determine which bath he ought to go to, and this provides us with a certain opportunity. But you must allow yourself to be guided by me. Believe me-I know what I'm doing. You must be that doctor. You only have to say that you've studied and practiced exclusively in Paris. The professor will certainly believe you if you behave like an educated man and manage to address him a few words in Latin.

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Six days. Has it been just six days? To think—only a week ago, the day before my birthday (he gives a sad little laugh) Tansy was leaving, the hotel design was being rejected and rejected...I found out I was being audited by the IRS—and in my folly I imagined myself unhappy. He ... he follows me. He seems to have unlimited time, unlimited funds — brother Bob*s life savings, I guess — he takes an interest in my work, he goes with me into town. The other day — I*m not sure I can even talk about this yet — the other day, I had to take a commuter flight to St. Louis—that*s where they*re building the outside elevator for the Regency — and Rick wanted to come along. So I said, well, okay, it won*t be much fun, but—. So, Rick came along. Everything*s fine, he*s sitting next to me on the plane, a DC-8, I think. He*s wearing a little pilot*s hat he bought at the airport; he*s leafing through a bound copy of Redbook. Then suddenly — suddenly the plane starts shaking, the safety-belt lights come on — people are in fact starting to get alarmed. So what happens in the middle of this? Rick jumps up, stands in the middle of the aisle, and shouts. (Finding it difficult to say.) and shouts — "Urinate! . . . Urinate, or your kidneys will explode!" Honest to God. And I think—I mean I*m really pretty sure — some people did. I mean, he was wearing this dumb little pilot*s hat, and that white shirt and tie he always wears. And, you know, in a panic situation like that—. Anyway, naturally, the next thing we hear is the pilot saying, "We experienced a little turbulence back there but we*re out of it now, and we*ll be landing in St. Louis in one minute." And Rick just sat down again, with no idea how many of those people wanted to murder him. I think he only escaped because the ones who really had the grounds didn*t want to stand up. It*s a hundred things a day like that. Little things mostly, but they*re starting to take their toll. I*m becoming irrational, snappish—.I don’t know what to do.

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ODD COUPLE
Neil Simon
Oscar

Hello, Oscar the poker player!..Who?..Who did you want, please?...Dabby? Dabby who?..No there's no Dabby here...Oh, Daddy! (to the others) For Christ sakes it's my kid (into phone: clearly a man who loves his son) Brucey, hello, baby. Yes it's Daddy! (to the others) Hey come on, give me a break will ya? My five-year-old kid is calling from California. It must be costing him a fortune. (phone) How've you been, sweetheart?...Yes, I finally got your letter. It took three weeks...Yes but next time tell your mommy to give you a stamp...I know, but you're not supposed to draw it on...(proud, to the others) Do you hear? (phone) Mommy wants to speak to me? Right... Take care of yourself, soldier. I love you. (and then with false cheeriness) Hello Blanche, how are you?...Err, yes I have a pretty good idea why you're calling...I'm a week behind with the check, right?...Four weeks? That's not possible...Because it's not possible...Blanche I keep a record of every check and I know I'm only three weeks behind!...Blanche, I'm trying the best I can...Blanche, don't threaten me with jail, because it's not a threat, with my expenses and my alimony, a prisoner takes home more pay than I do...Very nice in front of the kids...Blanche, don't tell me you're going to have my salary attached, just say goodbye...Goodbye! (hangs up, to the others) I'm eight hundred dollars behind in alimony, so let's up the stakes.

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Apollo, friends, Apollo was he that brought these woes of mine to pass,
these sore, sore woes; but the hand that struck the eyes was none save
mine, wretched that I am! Why was I to see when light could show me
nothing sweet? Say, friends, what more can I behold, what can I love,
what greeting can touch my ear with joy? Hasten, lead me from the land,
friends, lead me hence, the utterly lost, the thrice accursed, yes, the
mortal most abhorred of heaven! Perish the man, whoever he was, that
freed me in the pastures from the cruel shackle on my feet, and saved me
from death, and gave me back to life--thankless deed! Had I died then I
would not have been so sore a grief to my friends and to my own soul. I
would not have come to shed my father's blood, nor been called among men
the spouse of her from whom I sprang. But now I am forsaken of the
gods, son of a defiled mother, successor to his bed who gave me my own
wretched being; and if there is yet a woe surpassing woes, it has become
the portion of Oedipus. Do not show me at length that these things had
better not be done so; give me no more counsel. If I had sight I do not
know with what eyes I could even have looked on my father when I came to
the place of the dead, yes, or on my miserable mother, since I have
sinned against both such sings as strangling could not punish. Do you
suppose that the sight of children born as mine were born was lovely for
me to look upon? No, no, not lovely to my eyes forever! No, nor was
this own with its towered walls, nor the sacred statues of the gods,
since I, thrice wretched that I am, I , noblest of the sons of Thebes,
have doomed myself to know these no more by my own command that all
should thrust away the impious one, even him whom the gods have shown to
be unholy--and of the race of Laius. Alas, Cithaeron, why did you have
a shelter for me? When I was given to you why did you not slay me
straightaway, that so I might never have revealed my source to men? O
marriage-rites, you gave me birth, and when you had brought me forth you
bore children to your child, you created an incestuous kinship of
fathers and brothers and song, of brides and wives and mothers, yes, all
that foulest shame that is wrought among men! Nay, but it is improper
to name what it is improper to do. Hurry, for the gods' love hide me
somewhere beyond the land, or slay me or cast me into the sea, where you
shall never more behold of me! Approach, deign to lay your hands on a
wretched man; hearken, fear not--my plague can rest on no mortal beside.

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Tajomaru fall from a horse? (He spits at the DEPUTY, who retreats a little.) There*s no horse living can throw Tajomarul I was sick—poisoned! (Contemptuously.) He captured me! (With one foot, lie kicks at the DEPUTY, who recoils.) Go away, little bug, before I step on you! (To the Magistrate.) Do we have to listen all day to this puffing about what a great hero he is? You want to know what happened? I*ll tell it myself. Tajomaru thrown from a horse— Ha! He was a good horse, that one, strong and surefooted. I ran him hard all day. But it was hot—I got thirsty. Near the Osaka Pass is a stream—you may know it—the water comes down sweet from the mountains. But it wasn*t sweet this day. Something must have poisoned it—a dead serpent, maybe, in the upper stream. I rode on an hour or so and then my belly began to swell. I got dizzy. I don*t feel pain like other men, but this— (His face contorts.) Near the river bed I couldn*t bear it any longer. I got off the horse and doubled over on the ground and— (He stops, doubled over, remembering the agony. Then he shakes off the weak moment.) Tajomaru fall off a horse! Only a fool could have such a foolish idea. (As the Magistrate directs a question to him.) . . . The man? Did I kill him? (He shrugs.) I know I*ll hang from a tree on the execution ground no matter what I say. I can see you*ve decided the time has come for me to pay for my crimes—the ones I*ve done, the ones you think I*ve done and the ones you*re afraid I might do. So why should I lie? (Breaking his bonds in a gesture of strength and defiance.) Yes, it was I, Tajomaru, who killed the man! . . . Why? (He smiles.) Because of a little breeze.(Nodding.) . . . You heard it right. A little breeze that swept through the green leaves. If it hadn*t been for that, the man would never have been killed. As I said—a little puff of air. And I saw a woman*s face. Or was it a vision? I had to know. In that first moment, I made up my mind to take her. Even if I had to kill the man. (He squats down, facing the Magistrate.) To me, killing isn*t a matter of great importance. Blood is ugly to you "polite" people who kill with power and money instead of the sword. Sometimes you even say it*s for their own good, the ones you destroy. They don*t squirm or cry or bleed —they*re in the best of health. But all the same— (He stops at the Magistrate*s obvious reprimand.) . . . I am giving you the facts. Didn*t I say I killed the man? You asked me why. I kill to live, to eat, to have pleasure. Whenever I capture a woman, I always have to kill her man. But this time, it*s funny—this time I didn*t mean to kill him. I thought if I could take a woman once without killing the man, it would be— (There*s a pause. Then he shrugs, unable to explain it.) So I made my plans to get him out of the way and have the woman alone. It was easy. He was greedy, like all of them are. He went with me to the bamboo grove. When we got there, I seized him from behind. He was a trained warrior and strong—*--I had to take him by surprise. He struggled like a trapped tiger. But I tied him up to the root of a bamboo. (He shakes his head ruefully at the memory of the struggle.) Then I thought of the woman—

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RIM OF THE WORLD
TONY

I can’t wait to grow up and move out! I love my parents, but one thing I will never miss is the discipline. You should see them sometimes. My favorite is when they try to get a rise out of me. But I don't let them see how they make me feel. It makes them nuts. Like last week. Remember Eric's party. Raging! Most of my friends didn't get home until dawn. Hey, most of them didn’t get home until daylight. I play the good boy and come in at 2:30. Hey, I know my curfew's at 1:00. I know I'm late. I'm a teenager! I can tell time. So, here they both come, trying to make it like it's some big deal. Completely ignoring the fact that I will soon be moving out and will be an adult. Ok, so they say (imitating his father's voice) "Son, you are grounded." Ha, what a shock, you know. So I say, "Ok." Now here is the great part. I give them this little half smile. Not a smirk, you understand, because that would give them what they like to call "just cause". Then I'd really get it. No, just a little smile, sort of a Mona Lisa kind of thing. It just kills them. They don't know what the hell I'm thinking. So, even though I get punished...I win!

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BENVOLIO
Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!

There lies that Tybalt.

O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
Your high displeasure: all this uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
his tongue,
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

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ROMEO & JULIET
Romeo–the fight scene

Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

I do protest, I never injured thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.

Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

I thought all for the best.

This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe, others must end.

Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

Re-enter TYBALT

Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company:
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

This shall determine that.

They fight; TYBALT falls (just one stab forward, drop to knees over Tybalt’s body

O, I am fortune's fool!

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Thou art like one of those fellows that when he
enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword
upon the table and says 'God send me no need of
thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws
it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as
any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as
soon moody to be moved.

Nay, an there were two such, we should have none
shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,
thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou
wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what
eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?
Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a
man for coughing in the street, because he hath
wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:
didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing
his new doublet before Easter? with another, for
tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou
wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

(TO Benvolio)

By my head, here come the Capulets.

By my heel, I care not.

(To Tybalt)

And but one word with one of us? couple it with
something; make it a word and a blow.

Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an
thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall
make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'

O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
ears ere it be out.

Come, sir, your passado.

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Papa? Ay, we’re better off without him. And he can’t see my rooster. It’s my bird. He can see it later. He would be proud of me? Ha! This is news. How would ne know, he hasn’t seen me in years. Yeah, mama, you brag about us in your letters to him. Well, what does he call me when he "brags" to his friend? Did he call me a winner? A champ? A prince? And did you tell him I was working the fields? Angela, he said nothing about you. Nothing, you*re a girl and a retard. What possible use could he have for you? Grow up! You want me to give him a chance? What chance did he give us? Fighting his birds, in and out of trouble. He was never here for us, never a card, a little present for Angela. He forgot us. Just make it clear to him. Abuelo left the bird to me, not to him, to me. Yeah, I’ll be nice to him. As long as we all understand the "bird business," I*ll be nice to him even if it kills me, Mother. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. Fine, I’ll eat. I*ll eat now and feel sorry for myself later. I got nine minutes before I have to work.... I will now put on the same old smelly, filth-encrusted boots, I will walk to the fields. The scent of cow dung and rotting vegetation will fill the air. I will wait with the same group of beaten-down, pathetic men ... taking their last piss against a tree, dropping hard warm turds in the bushes. All adding to this fertile whore of a valley. At 7:30 that yellow mechanical grasshopper, the Deerfield tractor, will belch and move. At this exact moment, our foreman, John Knipe, will open his pig-sucking mouth, exposing his yellow, pointy, plaque-infested teeth. He yells, "Start picking, boys." The daily war begins ... the intimidation of violent growth ... the expanding melons and squashes, the hardiness of potatoes, the waxy purple succulence of eggplant, the potency of ripening tomatoes. All so smug, so rich, so ready to burst with sheer generosity and exuberance. They mock me ... I hear them ... "Hey Hector," they say, "show us whatcha got," and "Yo Hector we got bacteria out here more productive than you." ... I look to the ground. Slugs, snails, worms slithering in the earth with such ferocious hunger they devour their own tails, flies oozing out larvae, aphids, bees, gnats, caterpillars their prolification only slightly dampened by our sprays. We still find eggsacks hiding, ready to burst forth. Their teeming life, their lust, is shameful Well it*s time ... Bye Ma. (He exits.)

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See, basically, in my job, ya can perform new stuff, which is to say right now stuff, or ya can do ‘70*s stuff, mainly the ballad stuff for the slow numbers, but ya gotta stay away from ‘80*s stuff ‘cause for some reason the kids just don*t wanna hear it. Yeah, one night I figured the whole thing out. What it boils down to is cycles. C-Y-C-L-E-S. Cycles. Like ya have cycles of war and cycles of peace. And of course your washing machine has three basic cycles. It*s the same with everything. People are born, people die, little people, called children, grow up and take their place. Ya follow what I*m talkin* about? I mean it*s life, it*s the way Jesus intended. And it*s the same thing with music, man. So, the way I figure, ‘80*s stuff should become real, real popular again in the ‘10*s, and ‘70*s stuff will probably be, like, modified, and become the new music. Now, I really dig a lot of the sounds that were put down in the ‘80*s, ya see what I*m sayin*? But what can I do? It*s not my job to tell people what they should like, and besides, everything comes around again in the end, so it don*t, really matter. And I*ll tell ya, I take great comfort from that, I mean I used to worry about gettin* old, but the beautiful thing, man, is that THERE IS NO SUCH THING! ‘Cause somewhere out in space, or time . . . or someplace . . . all the moments of our lives are still goin* on . . . it*s like this movie . . . and we*re all in it . . . and after the universe is destroyed by, uh, whadayacallit? Armageddon? Yeah! Right. After that happens, then everybody will realize that OUR ENTIRE PURPOSE on this planet was just to sort of lay back, stay mellow, and go with the flow . . . and that*s why, in this cosmic sense, it don*t matter whether it*s ‘70*s stuff or ‘80*s stuff or ‘90*s stuff or ‘50*s stuff or whatever . . . ‘cause it*s all the same stuff!

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Tangled Up in Blue
by Brad Boesen
A man has confessed his love for a long time friend and been rejected.

Yeah, so am I. (turns to leave. Stops short. Pause) You know.--I know this was bad timing. I know you guys... I know you just broke up. I do. But ever since I've known you, you've always been in a relationship. You always have. Always. And in the few, brief times when you weren't in a relationship, I was, so we... We just never... And I know I've had too much to drink, but I just need to finish this now, and say what I need to say, because--the way things... The way it looks now, we're not going to be spending so much time together anymore. (cutting her off) And I just need to say this. I need to say this. I need to get this out. (pause) I'm sorry--that I put you through this. But for as long as I can remember, since--as long as I can remember, I've been settling, you know? I remember-it must have been seventh or eighth grade-my first girlfriend. I mean, we'd talk to each other in the halls, and sit by each other in study hall, and, next thing I knew, she was calling me at home, asking what I though she should wear to the dance that I hadn't actually asked her to. So I guess she was my girlfriend. But I remember walking home from school one day, and thinking I don't, really, even like her. I mean, she was nice, you know? I liked her. But I didn't--like her. She bored me when we'd talk. But I remember, even then, that long ago, in junior high school, thinking, what if I never meet anyone else? What if--no one else ever wants to go out with me? Because, believe me, the offers weren't pouring in any better then than they are now. And I really didn't think I would meet anyone else. (pause) And then I met you. (pause) I mean, you know, several years later, but... (pause) You remember the first time I saw you?(shaking his head) That's the first time we met. The first time I saw you was in the park about--a month before that, on the swings. (slight smile) You remember? I thought I told you. It was really late at night, and I couldn't sleep, so I was walking. And you were--sailing back and forth in the moonlight with your eyes closed--your hair blowing... Even now, when I think about it, I can remember every detail. And then, when I actually met you at the party, we were so good together. We were just so--good. But you were with someone. And you've been with someone ever since. And we've gotten to the point, now, where I really can't imagine not being your friend. I can't... I just can't imagine my life without you. (pause) You asked me why I never stayed very long with the women I've dated; it's you. Because of you. Because I didn't want to settle any more. I've been doing it all my life, and I didn't want to settle. And every woman I met, every one, I would compare them to you, and they weren't you. They just weren't. And I refused to settle until...until I knew one way or another. So don't tell me that I'm just drunk, or that I don't really feel the way I feel, because I've had four years to think about this, and I know how I feel.

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WAITING FOR LEFTY
By Clifford Odets
Agate

Ladies and Gentlemen, and don't let anyone tell you we ain't got some ladies in this sea of upturned faces! Only they're wearin' pants. Well, maybe I don't know a thing; maybe I fell outa the cradle when I was a kid and ain't been right since-you can't tell! Who's paying you for those remarks, Buddy?-Moscow Gold? Maybe I got a glass eye, but it come from working in a factory at the age of eleven. They hooked it out because they didn't have a shield on the works. But I wear it like a medal 'cause it tells the world where I belong-deep down in the working class! We had delegates in the union there-all kinds of secretaries and treasurers . . . walkin' delegates, but not with blisters on their feet! Oh no! On their fat little ass from sitting on cushions and raking in the bucks. Oh, I know it ain't true here! Why no, our officers is all aces. Why, I seen our own secretary Fatt walk outa his way not to step on a cockroach. No boys, don't think...Out of order?!? (to audience): Am I outa order? Yes, our officers is all aces. But I'm a member here- Today I couldn't wear my union button. The damnest thing happened. When I take the old coat off the wall, I see she's smoking. I'm a sonovagun if the old union button isn't on fire! Yep, the old celluloid was makin' the most god-awful stink: the landlady come up and give me hell! You know what happened? That old union button just blushed itself to death! Ashamed! Can you beat it? What's the answer, boys? The answer is, if we're reds because we wanna strike, then we take over their salute too! Know how they do it? (Makes Communist salute.) What is it? An uppercut! The good old uppercut to the chin! Hell, some of us boys ain't even got a shirt to our backs. What's the boss class tryin' to do-make a nudist colony outta us? (The audience laughs and suddenly AGATE comes to the middle of the stage so that the other cabmen back him up in a strong clump.)Don't laugh! Nothing's funny! This is your life and mine! It's skull and bones every incha the road! Christ, we're dyin' by inches! For what? Joe said it. Slow death or fight. It's war! You Edna, God love your mouth! Sid and Florrie, the other boys, It's war! Working class, unite and fight! Tear down the slaughter house of our old lives! Let freedom really ring. Don't wait for Lefty! He's never gonna come. Why? Cos they found Lefty....Behind the car barns with a bullet in his head! Hear it, boys, hear it? Hell, listen to me! Coast to coast! HELLO AMERICA! HELLO. WE?RE STORM.. BIRDS OF THE WORKING CLASS WORKERS OF THE WORLD. . . . OUR BONES AND BLOOD! And when we die they?'ll know what we did to make a new world! Christ, cut us tip to little pieces. Well die for what is right! put fruit trees where our ashes are! (To audience): Well, what's the answer? STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!
 

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THE WARM UP GURU
by John Driver & Jeffery Haddow

Namaste. Shanti shanti, om, om, om. Why did the sacred cow cross the Ganges? Anyone? (wait for audience response) Sharp group. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Perfect Master Ka Ka Ji and I am going to teach you the esoteric doctrine of audience warmup yoga as it was taught to me by my teacher, the even more perfect Master Gah Li Ji. His most famous exercise was designed to increase the circulation in the hands and to develop the shoulders and the bicep region. The first thing I am going to be asking you to be doing is to taking the left hand, that's this one and putting it behind the back like so. And to be taking the right hand, that's this one, and putting it out in front of your shoulder like so. (No one does it.) You know, sometimes I say to myself, you should get out of the guru business. Open a delicatessen. Call it the New Deli. (Moving on) It is very important to see some hands for illustration. Thank you. Alright, I want you to be moving that hand back and forth, back and forth in opposite directions very fast, very fast, when I say go. Ready? Go. Let me see them. Oh, that's very good. Namaste, shanti om. Now that is what you have been doing for the first act. For the second act, I want you to be taking the left hand out from behind the back and putting it shoulder width apart from the first hand and moving both hands in opposite directions very fast, very fast when I say go. First we take this side of the house. Ready? Get ready. Get them up there, get 'em up. What's the matter, sir, you can't get 'em up? Ready, go. Thank you. Now this side, ready go. Thank you. this side you are very good. You are like Brahmin priest, you are close to Krishna. (to other side) This side, you have been eating meat. You cannot fool Ka Ka. But I am going to give you one more chance to get even with the other side of the house. We are going to do the exercise one more time. But this time we are going to use a visual aid. You will do the exercise when you see the Applause sign. Are you ready? Everybody get ready. Can you do it twice in one night, sir? Ready, go! (holds up Hindi applause sign) That's applause in Hindi. Thank you. Namaste, shanti, om.

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CYRANO DE BERGERAC
by Edmund Rostand
Cyrano:
The unwary eye that sees
Her smile sees pearled perfection.  She can knit
Grace from a twine of air.  The heavens sit
In every gesture.  Of divinities
She's most divine.  O Venus, amorous queen,
You never stepped into your shell; Dian-
You never glided through the summer's green
As she steps into her chair and then is seen
Gliding through Paris-but this-(pointing to his nose)
This-gross protuberance.
Look at it, and tell me what exuberance
Of hope can swell the rest of me.  I'm under
No illusion.  Oh sometimes, bemused by the wonder
Of a blue evening, a garden of lilac and rose,
Letting this wretched devil of a nose
Breathe in the perfume, I follow with my eye-
Under that silver glory in the sky-
Some woman on the arm of a cavalier,
And dream that I too could be strolling there,
With such a girl on my arm, under the moon.
My heart lifts, I forget my curse, but soon,
Suddenly, I perceive what kills it all-
My profile shadowed on the garden wall.
Me? Crying? Oh, never, never that.  To see
A long tear straggling along this nose would be
Intolerably ugly.  I wouldn't permit
A crystal tear fraught with such exquisite
Limpidity to be defiled by my
Gross snout.  Tears are sublime things, and I,
Wedding a nymph to a rhinoceros,
Would render the sublime ridiculous.
Speak to her?  Now?  Why?
So she can laugh at this?  Why, man, there's nothing that I fear
More in this world

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ROSENCRANZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD
BY Tom Stoppard
Rosencrantz:
Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead lying in a box with a lid on it?  Nor do I, really. It's silly to be depressed by it.  I mean one thinks
of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead. which should make all the difference. shouldn't
it?  I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you?  It would be  just like being asleep in a box.  Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind
you, not without any air-you'd wake up dead, for a start, and then where would you be?  Apart from inside a box.  That's the bit I don't like,
frankly.  That's why I don't think of it. Because you'd be helpless, wouldn't you?  Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you'd be in there forever.
  Even taking into account the fact that you're dead, it isn't a pleasant thought.  Especially if you're dead, really. ask yourself, if I asked you
straight off-I'm going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be  alive or dead?  Naturally, you'd prefer to be alive.  Life in a box is
better than no life at all.  I expect.  You'd have a chance at least.  You could lie there thinking-well, at least I'm not dead!  I wouldn't think
about it, if I were you.  You'd only get depressed.  Eternity is a terrible thought.  I mean, where's it going to end?  We count for nothing.  We have
no control.  None at all. Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death?  There must have been one, a moment, in childhood when it first occurred to you that you don't go on forever.  It must have been shattering-stamped into one's memory.  And yet I can't remember it.  It
never occurred to me at all.  What does one make of that?  We must be born with an intuition of mortality.  Before we know the words for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all the compasses in the world, there's only one
direction, and time is its only measure.  Death followed by eternity. the worst of both worlds.  It's a terrible thought

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BEDROOMS
“Nick”
 Scenario:  Nick’s wife, Wendy, forces him to go to a seminar where she expects him to learn to treat her better, when in fact he learns that she is just completely psycho.  (Nick is to be played extremely sarcastic over-the-top) 

            What a great experience this is. What was I so afraid of?  I mean, when you got up there in front of all those people and said those things and they told you how full of it you are, it was like an enormous burden off my back.  I mean, I went in that room scared because deep down inside I thought I was the bad guy.  That’s a laugh.  Even when I was a kid and I was hitting my sisters with bricks, I wasn’t such a bad guy.  I was only doing it to be noticed.  It was as if I was saying “Hey! Look at me, I need love too!” You want me to be a bully, so you can be the victim.  It’s like you keep putting your face under my foot.  I keep trying to take it away, and you keep holding it there.  I’m not sure why, but my gut tells me it’s got something to do with your needing the excitement.  That’s just one little insight I got there.  Boy, I can really feel myself transforming from this experience. I’m pulling the covers off you, you paranoid, martyr, bitch, nag. Now don’t take that as a judgement. It’s not your fault.  You picked it up from your mother and she picked it up from her mother.  Probably your whole family tree, all the way back to the beginning of evolution, is like that.  The first turtle who crawled out of the sea who you’re related to had to be a whiner, a complainer, and a ball breaker.  But I want you to be clear on this.  I’m not talking about you all the time.  There are moments when you seem perfect.  I’m talking about the other ninety percent of the time.  When you’re not only bad, you’re evil.  That’s what those two hundred and fifty people were reacting to then they booed you. Not the perfect part; the bad, evil, ugly part.  And that’s what you’re going to change, baby, or it’s the garbage dump for you. 

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Learning to Drive
A student, over sixteen, and a teacher, a driving instructor of any age. 

  I pretended that I was all right.  That I didn’t mind having to go through this.  That this hideous feeling of incompetence didn’t bother me.  I tried to appear eager, and pleased to be gaining a new and useful skill.  There’s a good reason why most people learn to drive when they’re sixteen.  When you’re sixteen you don’t know you can die.  If you’re much older than that, not only do you know you’re going to die, you also know that this is probably where.  Lesson three.  I approached the third lesson confidently.  Nothing much to this driving thing, really.  I am a smart, competent person.  Lots of people who are much more stupid than me can drive; I can certainly learn to drive.  I was feeling cocky and expansive.  My teacher and I chatted. (Lights up on TEACHER.) Do you like teaching?  I don’t know.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see the teacher shaking his head.  What had I done? I suppose this was when it came home to me that what I had to learn was potentially deadly, and I had better pay attention.  For the next lesson, I decided that my problem was that I was too tense and if I could just relax the whole thing would come naturally.  I made stupid jokes and counted to three in a different language at each stop sign.  I blathered on about the psychology of learning.  I realize now that I was, of course, trying to sound smart because he knew how to drive and I didn’t. (To TEACHER.)  You know, I think the problem with driving is that all of a sudden you’re, like, two thousand pounds heavier, and what I think you have to do is you have to sort of re-learn the boundaries of where you end, you know?  The powers that be have told that you you can go ahead.  You have the required skills.  Freedom!  And you realize with painful clarity that you are alone, you are in control of a powerful machine and you do not know ho to drive.  The powers that be know nothing.  There is only one brake and you’re the only one that can use it.  You must make all the decisions.  Is it now safe to make this left-hand turn?  There is no one to remind you able speeding and its dire consequences.  No sign on the top of the car that says: “New at this.  Thank you for getting of the way.”  And there, suddenly, you are.  This is lesson six.  Time passes and I’m not dead yet.  Although driving in traffic still causes a certain amount of indigestion, what I now love is to take my little car very late at night or early in the morning and just drive when no one knows I’m gone.  I wonder if other people do this? What I do not like is driving with passengers in the car. 

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Cyrano de Bergerac
By Edmond Rostand
This is a monologue consisting of the whole play. Its recommended that you either read the play or spark notes it. But once you understand the gist…you’ll do great! Enjoy. 

(Amazed) To see me? (Trembling) Mon dieu! Where?—I—Ah, mon dieu!…mon dieu!…The shop of Ragueneau…Ragueneau—the pastrycook… I’ll be there! Me…to see me!… What is the time? One hour more…  —What time? Have you a pen? (Takes up the pen) Only to write—To fold—To give it to her—and to go… What time now? Come I’ll write to her. Pst…Pst…Pst… (gestures at all the riffraff in the shop). (Sees Roxane—quickly puts on a smile) Welcome…have you good digestion? Good. Here are two sonnets, by Benserade. Do you like cream-puffs? —Do you love nature? Then go out and eat these in the street. Do not return—until you finish them. (Looks in direction of Roxanne) When you remembered to remember me, and came to tell me…what? Ah…Ah?….Ahhhhhh….ah!…Beautiful?!?!—   (Realization)   You have never spoken?—   Why then—how do you know?—  You say he is in the Guards: his name? (Disappointed) And you brought me here to tell me this? Oh…well—I will defend Your little Baron. Of course… (Pause) I will be his friend. Of course…   Of course…  (Pause) Yes, that is Love—that wind of terrible and jealous beauty, blowing over me—that dark fire, that music… Now let me die, having lived. (Pause) A kiss—What is a kiss? A signature acknowledged, a secret whispered, a moment made immortal, a new song sung by two hearts. A kiss. The word is sweet. (Pause) Nothing—only Christian thinks you ought to know. True—what you told him now? Say it, I shall not be hurt—ugly?  Hideous? Disfigured? Even grotesque? I—Roxane—listen— (Pause. Disappointment) All gone…All gone. I cannot ever tell her now…ever…All gone… Why, so am I—For I am dead, and my love mourns for me. Adieu, Roxane! I have two deaths to avenge now—Christian’s and my own! (Pause) His letter!…Did you not promise me that some day…that some day…you would let me read it? “Farewell Roxane, because to-day I die— My own dearly beloved—and my heart still so heavy with love I have not told, and I die without telling you! Farewell, my dear, my dearest— My love—I am never away from you, Even now, I shall not leave you. I shall be still that one who loves you, loves…Roxane. No, no Roxane, no! No—It was not I—No! No, no, my own dear love, I love you not!… (Pause) No, do not go away—I may not still be here when you return…On the contrary…Because of you I have had one friend not quite not quite all a friend. (Pause) The moon—yes, that would be the place for me. A pretty wit—whose like we lack—a lover…not like any other men…Here lies Hercule-Savinien De Cyrano de Bergerac. Let no one help me. Let no one help me. No one.

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“The Lottery”

By Brainerd Duffield

This monologue is about people in the villages are gathering around for the daily lottery. You would think lottery is about receiving money, but in this town the lottery in which when the person’s name gets picked, they die. Joe Summers runs the lottery and devotes his time to the lottery with his sister Belva.

Little late today, folks. (waves to Jack)  Here, you! The Wilkins boy. Give me a hand and stir these names up. Stir ‘em  good and hard. (Jack comes and stirs box with paddle, which Joe hands him)  Norbert, you hold it steady for him. Better use both hands. (townsman using both hands to steady box, helps Jack with stirring business. He notices Belva and moves toward her, passing others.) How are you, folks? How are you Belva? I am almost ready. I didn’t forget and leave your name out. You’re down there. I just been checkin’ the list. If everyone says there’s a terrible responsibility, Belva, there must be something to it. Nobody asked me to come over and speak to you but you might give a thought to the neighbors..(turning away) Oh, what’s the use of talking to you!...(turns back to her) Although we don’t know where the wisdom stops and superstition begins, The Lottery has got to be taken serious. People get set in a way of doin things and you cant’ change’ em. It’s human nature. I am not the worst of anybody in this town becaue I didn’t drive him away. I didn’t drive our own brother away. Why would I? It was more your doin’ than mine. You’re the one brought him up to be a weaklin’ and a coward. You started him going out on the street and preachin’ against tradition. Even if he was brave to say what he thinks, when every hand is against him, I call that cowardly. (doggedly) He left his own accord. I didn’t send him. I am not a coward! Everyday of my life I have to listen to your craziness. If you want to go off lookin’ for him, Belva, I’ll give you the money. Take the mornin’ train. I’ll even draw alone the Lottery from now on. There- I couldn’t offer more’n that, could I? Leave! I don’t care anymore.

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THE FOREIGNER
CHARLIE

            Charlie- A thin, quiet Englishman who seems permanently lost. He just left his sick wife back in England and wants nothing more than to be left alone and to speak to no one in the mountain cottage inn where his cheerful friend has brought him for three days.

           I shouldn’t have come. No, I—oh, don’t think me ungrateful Froggy. I know the enormous trouble you’ve taken to bring me here--. I should have stayed with Mary at the hospital. When a man’s wife is dying, he belongs with her, not—not in Georgia. I haven’t talked to anyone about our problems. I’ve tried to but I’m no good at it you see. Talking. Talk. I--. I can’t seem to--. I never finish sentences, I--. I have an active fear of—of—of--. Yes, talk. Please. Try to understand. I can’t talk to anyone now. Please. All right, fix it for me. What on earth--? What have you done? (2 beats) You’ve told her I can’t speak English?! But I can’t. I can’t pretend. I’m sorry, I simply can’t. (beat) So long. (Froggy, his friend, leaves. He is spoken to by another man in the house.) Thank you. (Goes to phone.) Oh, do hurry…Hello? May I speak with Staff Sergeant Le Sueur, please? Charlie Baker. No, it’s not a code, it’s my name….Hello, Froggy? Could you come get me please? Froggy you don’t know what you’ve done. No, I mean my pretending not to speak English…No, well, I decided to, after all. Oh, I overheard something I shouldn’t have, and—well it seemed best. But Froggy—they don’t leave me alone. No! The old woman does nothing but shout at me. The others talk about me as if I were a potted palm. That screaming girl, and her poor addled brother? One thoroughly unpleasant chap began saying the most awful things about my mother…Well something to the effect that he doubted there were enough of her left to spread on toast. I don’t know. No of course I sha’n’t tell mother, but still--. And that minister, something very odd is going on with him, I think. I don’t know. What is a “Christian hunt club”? No. Nor I. Yes, I’ll hold on. (The boy enters and looks at Charlie, Charlie smiles and looks back at him.) Thank you. No, that was the boy. I don’t think he knows about me just yet. Yes, he is rather hopeless I’m afraid; still I can’t help feeling that he’s being—(As Betty enters) Zhmeetko azmad yi—uh, Gallipoli, m’nyeh. (Beat) Peevno…omsk—uh—(She leaves) Frog? Yes sorry. No, never mind. Don’t send the jeep. No. No—it’s only two days. But I want to say this, Froggy. And it’s important—(Betty reenters. Charlie gives up. Into phone.) Peem? Bosco-bosco.

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  Elliot Loves
     By Jules Feiffer
     Act 1 , Scene 1

Elliot is man who is struggling to find the woman he wants to be with. He describes his present situation with the woman he is with.
       I’ll never do better. She’s good for me. And sweet and vulnerable. A little older than I like them, but she has an innocent, unspoiled quality, even though she’s divorced twice and has two kids. She’s thirty-five. What I find so important is that she needs me, you know? And she takes my advice! On her children.  Even though I myself have never had children. I take nothing for granted! I think all the time, “What does she want ? What would she like? Will this please her?”  Buying candy or little thoughtful knickknacks to show how imaginative I can be, that I’m not as simple as she thinks. I spend hours of the day with half my mind on what it is she needs from me, trying to understand the side of her she’s not exposing and what I can do to make that side trust me. How can I win acceptance from that part that no man has ever reached before. I can spend days in the office, on the phone, in the conference with clients, consultations, settling problems, and fifty percent of that time I’m off inside myself trying to figure out ways to make her let me in, let me inside to see something I her no one has seen before. For me, that’s a proof of worth, my claim on immortality. Because, look, I know I’m not unique in bed; mostly I try to please and that’s still a mystery to me. Even if I Make it work for the both of us, does it make me feel better?? If a woman tells me how great I am I think she’s exaggerating. But im grateful. And if she tells me I’m not doing enough to please her, I want to wring her neck…….even though I assume its true. Because shouldn’t I get some credit for all the effort I put in??

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Where Have All the Lightning Bugs Gone?
Boy
A normally shy guy who has a calm love of life and people. Imitating a Professor in a park on the topic to “where have all the lightening bugs gone?” 

Today’s lecture topic concerns the question of the demise of certain small living things. Specifically, the nocturnal soft-bodied beetle of the family Lampyridae. Yes, Miss Darby. Spell it?  Yes, B-E-E-T-L-E  B-U-G. Now, this insect is often called a glowworm. But it isn’t a worm, of course. It is called, by some, a glowfly. Or a firefly. But it isn’t a fly. Although it does fly, of course. This lightning bug has an organ at the tip of the abdomen which produces a soft light, a glow. Let me tell you the rationale behind the mysterious disappearance of this lovely insect, which is no longer observable in such abundant numbers as it was in days of our. The salient point is that they’re gone. Whence, and whither flown again? Whence are we? The roses of our summer die. The glowworms of our youth are killed. And how? What is this that thou hast done to innocence? With freeways and speeding cars, thee assassinated the gentle butterfly and the warm glowworm. They fly no more. That’s my theory. I used to have a job at a car wash. The front ends: smeared with bugs. Pow!  Radiators filled with butterflies. It was a pretty bad mess.  Never mosquitoes, ugly hornets, or chiggers. Nor Japanese beetles. Only the beautiful things get killed. Love gets killed, not hate. Nice people, not the other kind. And the bad thing is that I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve abolished all cars. I never drive one. Never ride in one. I walk. Everywhere. The whole world.  Planes and boats? I don’t know about planes and boats. The trouble with the world is that people can get around too easily. Move from here to there to make trouble or maybe to find new beauty.

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The Glass Menagerie
By Tennesee Williams
Scene Seven
Jim 

Jim is the long-awaited gentleman caller. He is described as a person more connected to the real world than any of the other characters are, but Jim is also a symbol for the "expected something that we live for."  He is outgoing, enthusiastic, and believes in self-improvement. He raises Laura’s hopes before revealing to her that he is engaged.   Note: Tom is Laura’s brother. 

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

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Death Of A Salesman
By: Arthur Miller
Act Two
BIFF 

Biff is a 34 year old man who has failed at finding a steady, successful job ever since high school. His father, Willy, is a businessman who whole-heartedly believes in the “American Dream.” Willy is just an average Joe, but he believes he and his family are very successful. Biff is sick and tired of living a lie, and he tries to convince his father to stop living in a dream.

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

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This is How it Is
by Bryan Patrick Moses
David 

David is very cocky and he thinks he knows everything about women.  He is talking to his friend Sam, his best friend, about a beautiful woman who walked into the bar that they are in.  David follows these “codes” of socializing that is not actually true. 

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

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The American Clock
            Lee Baum enters and faces the audience.  In his happy fifties, graying hair, wears tweed jacket and has a vaguely preppy look, a journalist.   

(Salute.)  So long, Joe! (They are gone.  Alone, Lee mimes pulling on a boat whistle.  And quietly, to himself…) Tooot!  Tooooot!  (Blackout.  Music.  Lights emblazon the map at rear, the full breadth of the country appearing.  Light on Lee.  He is greasy, bare to the waist, wiping sweat off his face.) Dear Mom and Pa.  It’s not really a job because they don’t pay me, but they let me eat in the gallery and I sleep on deck.  The Mississippi is so beautiful, but sometimes it’s frightening.  Yesterday we stopped at little town where they were handing out beans and meat to the hungry.  The meat was full of maggots, you could see them wriggling out when the butcher cu into it.  Suddenly a man with a gun pointed it at the butcher and forced him to give out the good meat which the government had paid him for, but which he kept for his paying customers.  I keep trying to imagine how Mark Twain would deal with a scene like that.  I don’t understand how people are managing to live; a great many banks are boarded up.  And there hasn’t been rain for months; even the sky dried out.  Every town is full of men sitting on the sidewalks with their backs against the storefronts.  Just looking at you, or asleep.  It’s like a magic spell.  I keep trying to find the holes in Marxism but I can’t.  I just read an article where the salaries of twelve executives in the tobacco business was more than thirty thousand tobacco farmers made.  That’s why this happened-the workers never made enough to buy back what they produced.  The boom of the twenties was a gigantic fake. The rich have simply looted the people.  And all President Hoover can say is to have confidence!  I’ve passed fields of corn rotting on the stalks unsold, and sheriffs guarding them while on the roads people fall down from hunger.  – There is going to be a revolution, Mama…

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CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY

By Richard R. George

Adapted from the fantasy by Roald Dahl

Scene One

NARRATOR

The narrator is enthusiastic and the tone of voice is convincing and somewhat happy.  The narrator is like a news reporter who updates the audience on what happens in the beginning of each scene and describes each of the characters.

Welcome to the tale of a delicious adventure in a wonderful land.  You can tell it will be delicious-can’t you smell it already?  (He sniffs)  Oh, how I love that gorgeous smell! You’ve all heard of Cadbury’s, Hershey’s, Nestles, Wonka-what’s that?  You say, what’s Wonka?  You mean you don’t know what Wonka is?  Why…Wonka Wonka Chocolate…of course!  I admit that Willy Wonka’s Chocolate is fairly new but it’s also the greatest chocolate ever invented.  Why, Willy Wonka himself is the most amazing, the most fantastic, the most extraordinary chocolate maker the world has ever seen.  He’s invented things like…say…why…I’m not going to tell you what he’s invented.  You came to see for yourself!  So I’ll let you do just that.  Well, anyway, there was a big article in the town paper saying that Mr. Willy Wonka, in order to sell a lot of candy once again, was running a contest.  Yes, sir, that’s right…a contest!  He had secretly wrapped a Golden Ticket under ordinary wrapping paper in five ordinary candy bars.  The candy bars were said to be found anywhere…in any shop…in any street…in any town…in any country in the world, upon any counter where Wonka’s candies are sold.  The five winners will tour Mr. Wonka’s new factory and take home enough chocolate for the rest of their lives.  Now that, my friends, is where our story begins. 

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The Crucible
Hale is a minister at the end of his rope. He can no longer stand for what is going on in the small town of Salem. He is first speaking to a judge and then to a woman. This is a very dramatic scene, good luck.

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

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