ASSASSINS by Stephen Sondheim & John Weidman

Samuel Joseph Byck (January 30, 1930 February 22, 1974) was an unemployed former tire
salesman who attempted to hijack a plane flying out of Baltimore/Washington International Airport on
February 22, 1974. He intended to crash into the White House in the hope of killing U.S. President
Richard Nixon. [Wikipedia]

A park bench. Sam Byck trudges on, wearing his Santa Claus suit, carrying his picket sign and a beat-
up shopping bag. He sits down, reaches in the shopping bag, takes out a can of Yoo-Hoo, opens it and
takes a big drink. He then takes out a greasy sandwich, a portable tape recorder and a bunch of tapes.
He shoves a tape in the tape recorder, takes a bite of sandwich, composes himself and starts
recording.

Hello, Mr. Bernstein? Lenny? How you doin? My name is Sam Byck. Weve never met. Youre
a world-renowned composer and conductor who travels the world over enjoying one success after
another and Im an out-of-work tire salesman, so I guess thats not surprising. But I hope youll take a
few minutes out of your busy schedule to listen to this tape which you just opened in the mail. If you
cant listen to it now, maybe you can listen to it (He sings)

Tonight, tonight

(He chuckles cheerfully) I love that song. What a melody! And what a sentiment. Tonight, tonight, Ill
meet my love tonight Where is she, Lenny? Gimme a hint. (He takes a drink of Yoo-Hoo and a big
bite of the sandwich) Lenny, youre a modest kind of guy, I know that. But youll indulge me for a
minute if I say something from the heart. Youre a genius. Yes, you are! And you know why? You
understand what people want. You have their ear. You make em listen, Lenny. No one listens. Are
you listening?! No one listens (He takes another bite of sandwich) Well, if youre hearing all this, I
guess youre listening now, right? So, with all due respect, deferring to your stature in the world of
music, classical and semi-classical, I want to offer you a small piece of adviceHey, I know what
youre thinking. Who the hell is Sam Byck with his fat ass and his tongue on rye to give a shit hot guy
such as yourself advice? Well, Lenny, its a fact that my unwillingness to compromise my principles
and kiss ass like some people I could mention has cost me the so-called good life which others have
enjoyed. So be it, Len. Fuck me, fuck you. But Lenny, listen. Listen to one small piece of advice from
a true fanForget the long-hair shit and write what you write best. Love songs. Theyre what we
need! Theyre what the world needs! Lonely Town! Maria! Tender melodies to cherish a lifetime!
Timeless strains which linger in the memory and the heart! Love, Lenny! What the world needs now is
love sweet love! Love makes the world go round! (He takes a slurp of Yoo-Hoo) Well, not
exactly. Bullshit makes the world go round. You know that all too well, a worthy guy such as yourself.
You know the worlds a vicious, stinking pit of emptiness and pain. But not for long. Im gonna change
things, Lenny. Im gonna drop a 747 on the White House and incinerate Dick Nixon. Its gonna
make the news. Youre gonna hear about it and I know what youre gonna ask yourself: What kind of
a world is this where a decent, stand-up guy like Sam Byck has to crash a plane into the President to
make a point?] Youre gonna wonder if you want to go on living in a world like that. Well, lemme tell
you, Len. You do. And you know why? So you can keep on writing love songs! Yes! Theres a gorgeous
world out there, a world of unicorns and waterfalls and puppy dogs! And you can save it! Through the
medium of your God-given talent! Do it, Lenny! Save the world! Is that too much to ask?!Oh, Lenny.
One more thing. When you hear about my death youre gonna wonder if theres something more you
couldve done. Lenny, you did everything you could (He clicks off the tape recorder. A beat. Then he
clicks it on again) Well, maybe not everything. Maybe not absolutely everything, you know? Maybe
one day you couldve picked up a phone and said, Hey, Sammy, hows it going? Hang in there,
Sam. This Buds for you. How long would that have taken you? A minute? Half a minute? That was
too much, wasnt it? You probably had your limo double parked. You and your shit hot buddies had a
plane to catch to Paris, France for dinner and a blow job. Hey, I understand. I understand all too well,
my friend. Youre just like all the rest of them (He flips through the tapes reading names) Jonas
Salk, Jack Anderson, Hank AaronYou knew where I was. You all did. And you know what you did?
You left me there! You jerks! You shits! You pricks! You had your chance and now its too damn late!
Fuck me?! Fuck you! Im outta here! Im history, Lenny! Understand?! Im history! (He takes a big bite
of his sandwich, chews.)
HELL ON WHEELS: Revelations by Tony Gayton & Joe Gayton

1865. Cullen Bohannon, 38, is a former tobacco farmer and former Confederate soldier who is
determined to exact revenge on the Union soldiers who murdered his wife, Mary. It is night. Bohannon
sits at a campfire, speaking to, but not looking at, a former slave with whom he is travelling. He
speaks slowly, calmly.

BOHANNON: I gave my slaves their freedom before the war started. Damn near went broke payin
their wagesI only did it for my wife. I sure as hell didnt understand it. It pissed me off, tell you the
truthWell, Mary had a way of talkin me into things. It want until I come home from the warright
then, actuallythat I understood that she was right. I found Mary where she was hanged, yknow,
but I couldnt find my boy. Wed always play hide and go seek, and hed always hide up in the hayloft.
(Laughs.) Every damned time, every time. Hed(Chuckle.) And Id just, Id pretend like I couldnt find
him. See, the Yankees, they, they burned the barn, but it was still standin, and(takes a swig from
his flask) there he was. Up in the hayloft. His body was curled up, and his arms was huggin his knees
to his chest. But he wasnt alone. Bethel, the woman who raised me, she was with him. She had her
arms wrapped around him, like she was protectin him from the flame. (Long pause.) Both their
bodies, they were scorched black, fused together. Couldnt really tell where one of them ended and
the other one began. (Exhales.) And I just remember standin there and thinkin to myself, Gods got
a funny way of teachin you things. Huh?
WILD HONEY by Michael Frayn

Russia, 1878. Osip, 40, a horsethief, describes a chance encounter.

OSIP: Hot summers day. Like today. In the forest here. Im going along this track and I look round and
there she is, shes standing in a little stream and shes holding her dress up with one hand and shes
scooping up water in a dock leaf with the other. She scoops. She drinks. Scoops. Drinks. Scoops again,
and pours it over her head. Its one of those days when you can feel the air heavy on you, and you
cant hear nothing but the buzzing of the flies She pays no heed to me. Just another peasant, she
thinks. So I go down to the edge of the stream, right up close to her, as close as I am to you now, and
I just look at her. Like this, like Im looking at you. And she stands there in the water in front of me,
with her skirts up in her hand, and she bends, she scoops, she pours. And the water runs over her
hair, over her face and her neck, then down over her dress, and all she says is: What are you staring
at, idiot? Havent you ever seen a human being before? And she scoops and she pours, and I just
stand gazing. Then suddenly she turns and gives me a sharp look. Oh, she says, youve taken a
fancy to me, have you? And I say: I reckon I could kiss you and die. So that made her laugh. All
right, she says, you can kiss me if you like. Well, I felt as if Id been thrown into a furnace. I went up
to herinto the stream, boots and all, I didnt think twiceand I took her by the shoulder, very
lightly, and I kissed her right here, on her cheek, and here on her neck, as hard as ever I could. Now,
then, she says, be off with you! And you wash a little more often, she says, and you do something
about your nails! And off I went.
ARISTOCRATS by Brian Friel

CASIMIR: Yes yes. I discovered a great truth when I was nine. No, not a great truth; but I made a great
discovery when I was nine not even a great discovery but an important, a very important discover
for me. I suddenly realised I was different from other boys. When I say I was different I don't mean -
you know, good Lord, I don't for a second mean I was - you know - as they say nowadays homo-
sexual good heavens I must admit, if anything, Eamon, if anything I'm (looks around) I'm
vigorously hetero-sexual ha-ha. But of course I don't mean that either. No, no. But anyway. What I
discovered was that for some reason people found me... peculiar. Of course I sensed it first from the
boys at boarding-school. But it was Father with his usual - his usual directness and honestly who
made me face it. I remember the day he said to me: 'Had you been born down there' we were in
the library and he pointed down to Ballybeg Had you been born down there, you'd have become
the village idiot. Fortunately for you, you were born here and we can absorb you. Ha-ha. So at nine
years of age I knew certain things: that certain kinds of people laughed at me; that the easy
relationships that other men enjoy would always elude me; that that that I would never succeed
in life, whatever you know whatever 'succeed' means. That was a very important and a very
difficult discovery for me, as you can imagine. But it brought certain recognitions, certain
compensatory recognitions. Because once I recognised once I acknowledged that the larger areas
were not accessible to me, I discovered I had to discover smaller, much smaller areas that were.
Yes, indeed. And I discovered that if I conduct myself with some circumspection, I find that I can live
within these smaller, perhaps very confined territories without exposure to too much hurt. Indeed I
find that I can experience some happiness and perhaps give a measure of happiness, too. My great
discovery. Isn't it so beautiful?
DEATH OF A SALESMAN by Arthur Miller

BIFF: 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 jailed. I stole myself out of every good 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! Thats whose fault it is!
Its goddamn time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and Im through with it
Willy! 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 sawthe sky. I saw
the things that I love in the world. The work and the food and the 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
dont 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 cant I say that,
Willy? Pop! Im a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, Willy, 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! Im one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldnt raise it! A buck an hour! Do you
gather my meaning? Im not bringing home any prizes anymore, and youre going to stop waiting for
me to bring them home! Pop, Im nothing! Im nothing, Pop. Cant you understand that? Theres no
spite in it any more. Im just what I am, thats all. Will you let me go, for Christs sake? Will you take
that phony dream and burn it before something happens?
ERSKINEVILLE KINGS by Marty Deniss

WACE: I dont owe anybody anything. He couldnt lift up his fuckin arms, he couldnt even hold a
fuckin fork. There was nothing wrong with his brain, he knew what was going on. I knew what was
going on. But we both just kept on together day after day and hes just wasting away. Oh, those
nurses theyre just flinging him about, theyre saying Standback, we know what were doing. And I
said, Well if you know what youre doing why does he look like a rag doll, fuckin hold him up. Oh,
and then he had to have someone with him, you know to wipe his arse, help him piss, he wouldve
had to have someone with him every fuckin minute for the rest of his fuckin life, waiting around with
a shit bucket and a mop. And this one day, the first year fuckin nurse comes in and she just dumps
down this tray of shit in front of Dad, this brown shit and a cup of jelly, this childrens lime green shit,
just dumps it in front of him and hes looking at it, and hes just humiliated. Just dumps it in front of
him. You know, and I saw it. I saw his eyes, everything just disappeared. I was holding his hand and he
squeezed it and I said Do you want to say something Dad, and hes said somethingI didnt
understand what it was, so I said, Why dont you whisper it Dad, just whisper it, he whispers it, in
my ear. I said, No Dad, No I cant do that. And he just looks at me. And he says it again. I just stood
there. And then I did it. I just did it. He told me to do it. So I did what I was told. He shouldnt have hit
you so hard. He shouldnt have hit you so hard. And now what was inside of him is inside of me.
LOOK BACK IN ANGER by John Osbourne

JIMMY: Anyone whos never watched someone die is suffering from a pretty bad case of virginity. For
twelve months, I watched my father dyingwhen I was ten years old. Hed come back from the war
in Spain, you see. And certain god-fearing gentlemen there had made such a mess of him, he didnt
have long left to live. Everyone knew iteven I knew it. But, you see, I was the only one who cared. His family
were embarrassed by the whole business. Embarrassed and irritated. As for my mother, all she could think about
was the fact that she had allied herself to a man who seemed to be on the wrong side in all things.
My mother was all for being associated with minorities, provided they were the smart, fashionable
ones. We, all of us waited for him to die. The family sent him a cheque every month, and hoped hed
get on with it quietly, without too much vulgar fuss. My mother looked after him without
complaining, and that was about all. Perhaps she pitied him. I suppose she was capable of that. But I
was the only one who cared! Every time I sat on the edge of his bed, to listen to him talking or
reading to me, I had to fight back my tears. At the end of twelve months, I was a veteran. All that that
feverish failure of a man had to listen to him was a small, frightened boy. I spent hour upon hour in
that tiny bedroom. He would talk to me for hours, pouring out all that was left of his life to one,
lonely, bewildered little boy, who could barely understand half of what he said. All he could feel was
the despair and bitterness, the sweet, sickly smell of a dying man. You see, I learnt at an early age
what it is to be angryangry and helpless. And I can never forget it. I knew more about
lovebetrayaland death when I was ten years old than you will probably ever know all your life.
A BRIGHT ROOM CALLED DAY by Tony Kushner

Berlin, 1933. Baz, in his 30s, is an openly homosexual psychologist and anarchist, one of a group of
liberal friends who become worried by the rise of the fascist Third Reich.

BAZ: Yesterday I was on my way to buy oranges. I eat them constantly in the winter, even though they cost so
much, because they prevent colds. On my way to the grocers I passed a crowd in front of an office building; I
asked what was going on and they showed me that a man had jumped from the highest floor and was dead.
They had covered the man with tarpaper but his feet were sticking out at angles that told you something was
very wrong. There was a pink pool of red blood mixed with white snow. I left.

At the grocers I felt guilty and embarrassed buying these fat oranges for myself only minutes after this man
had died. I knew why he had jumped. I thought of him opening the window, high up, and the cold air

On my way home I reimagined the whole thing, because I felt a little sick at heart. The dead man was sitting up
in the snow, and now the tarpaper covered his feet. As I passed by I gave him one of my oranges. He took it.
He stared at the orange, as though holding it could give him back some of the warmth hed lost. All day, when I
closed my eyes, I could see him that way. Sitting in the snow, holding the orange, and comforted. Still bloody,
still dead, but comforted.
A BRIGHT ROOM CALLED DAY by Tony Kushner

Berlin, 1933. Baz is an openly homosexual psychologist and anarchist, one of a group of liberal friends who
become worried by the rise of the fascist Third Reich. Baz worked at the Berlin Institute for Human Sexuality,
which was just shut down three days ago. Baz was brought in for questioning, and now tells his friend Agnes
what happened.

BAZ: I went to Munich.

To kill myself.
Really. Im very much afraid of them, I have been for years, all police, but these are much more
frightening. Being alone with them in a room with a locked door is paralyzing. I looked at the carpet
the whole time. I thought, good, they have a carpet, they wont do anything that would get blood on
the carpet. When the main one grabbed my face and slapped it I started crying. (Pause.) I have always
been terrified of pain. He said to me, In the woods outside of Munich, do you know what we are
building? I said no, and he said, A camp. For people like you.
I have a criminal record, I cant get out easily. I expected them to arrest me immediately after letting
me go something they do. So I decided to kill myself.
I wanted to go to another city so that none of you would be asked to identify me afterwards. I took
the night train. When I got there I bought a revolver and four bullets. Extras. I cant imagine why I
thought Id need extras. Anyway. I wanted to be found by people who arent particularly frightened
or upset by death. Nuns who care for the terminally ill. Better that than in some caf, ruining some
waiters whole day
But I felt that killing myself in the midst of a bunch of nuns was probably a much more serious sin
than doing it discreetly in a secular location. So I went to the park.
Agnes, I met a remarkably attractive young Silesian there. I was exhausted. Fatigue makes me easy to
arouse
I realized after my Silesian friend left that it had been nearly a week since my last orgasm. Too much
pent-up energy. The result: depression. Add to it the nightmare of the last few days suicide. One
brisk interlude with a pliable friend my desire to live returned to me in all its hot, tainted glory.
Theres more. The best part.
Well, here I am in Munich with a little money, a loaded gun, and a whole day to kill before the night
train to Berlin. What to do?
I went to the Cinema. And there was hardly anyone there, it being early in the day, just me and some
old people and some war vets. When all of a sudden into the theatre marches a squadron of
brownshirts and guess who else?
It was him. In a slouch hat and a trench coat.
Hitler. And he sat down three rows in front of me. The S.A. sat in back of him but I had a clear view of
the back of his head. I could see the oil in his hair.
The film got going and I was thinking to myself, Life plays funny tricks. Here we are, watching a film:
ten prisoners, six war cripples, Adolf Hitler and me, a homosexual Sunday anarchist with a loaded gun
in his pocket.
(He shapes the gun with his fingers, aims carefully, and makes a soft bang)
So I left.

Amusing, eh?
DR. STRANGELOVE or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

1964. President Muffley is in the War Room. He has learned that an American fighter pilot has stolen
a bomber plane and is heading into Russian airspace. Now on the phone with the Russian premier,
President Muffley attempts to break the bad news that Russia is about to be bombed.

PRESIDENT MUFFLEY: Hello? Hello, Dimitri? Listen, I can't hear too well, do you suppose you could
turn the music down just a little? Oh, that's much better. Yes. Fine, I can hear you now, Dimitri. Clear
and plain and coming through fine. I'm coming through fine too, eh? Good, then. Well then as you say
we're both coming through fine. Good. Well it's good that you're fine and I'm fine. I agree with you.
It's great to be fine. (Laughs.) Now then Dimitri. You know how we've always talked about the
possibility of something going wrong with the bomb. The bomb, Dimitri. The hydrogen bomb. Well
now what happened is, one of our base commanders, he had a sort of, well he went a little funny in
the head. You know. Just a little... funny. And uh, he went and did a silly thing.
(listens)
Well, I'll tell you what he did, he ordered his planes... to attack your country.
(listens)
Well let me finish, Dimitri. Let me finish, Dimitri.
(listens)
Well, listen, how do you think I feel about it? Can you imagine how I feel about it, Dimitri? Why do
you think I'm calling you? Just to say hello?
(listens)
Of course I like to speak to you. Of course I like to say hello. Not now, but any time, Dimitri. I'm just
calling up to tell you something terrible has happened.
(listens)
It's a friendly call. Of course it's a friendly call. Listen, if it wasn't friendly, ... you probably wouldn't
have even got it. They will not reach their targets for at least another hour.
(listens)
I am... I am positive, Dimitri. Listen, I've been all over this with your ambassador. It is not a trick.
(listens)
Well I'll tell you. We'd like to give your air staff a complete run down on the targets, the flight plans,
and the defensive systems of the planes.
(listens)
Yes! I mean, if we're unable to recall the planes, then I'd say that, uh, well, we're just going to have to
help you destroy them, Dimitri.
(listens)
I know they're our boys.
(listens)
Alright, well, listen... who should we call?
(listens)
Who should we call, Dimitri?
(listens)
The people...? Sorry, you faded away there.
(listens)
The People's Central Air Defense Headquarters. Where is that, Dimitri?
(listens)
In Omsk. Right. Yes.
(listens)
Oh, you'll call them first, will you?
(listens)
Uh huh. Listen, do you happen to have the phone number on you, Dimitri?
(listens)
What? I see, just ask for Omsk Information. I'm sorry too, Dimitri. I'm very sorry.
(listens)
Alright! You're sorrier than I am! But I am sorry as well. I am as sorry as you are, Dimitri. Don't say
that you are more sorry than I am, because I am capable of being just as sorry as you are. So we're
both sorry, alright?
The Laramie Project
By Moises Kaufman and the members of the Tectonic Theater Project

On October 7, 1998, a young gay man was discovered bound to a fence in the hills outside
Laramie, Wyoming, savagely beaten and left to die in an act of brutality and hate that shocked
the nation.

Aaron McKinney was found guilty of felony murder, which meant that the jury could give him the
death penalty. That evening, Judy and Dennis Shepard were approached by McKinney's defense
team, who pled for their client's life. The following morning, Dennis Shepard made a statement to
the Court. Here is what he said:

DENNIS SHEPARD: My son Matthew did not look like a winner. He was rather uncoordinated and
wore braces from the age of thirteen until the day he died. However, in his all too brief life he
proved that he was a winner. On October 6, 1998, my son tried to show the world that he could
win again. On October 12, 1998, my firstborn son and my hero lost. On October 12, 1998, my
firstborn son and my hero died, fifty days before his twenty-second birthday.

I keep wondering the same thing that I did when I first saw him in the hospital. What would he
have become? How could he have changed his piece of the world to make it better?

Matt officially died in a hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado. He actually died on the outskirts of
Laramie, tied to a fence. You, Mr. McKinney, with your friend Mr. Henderson left him out there by
himself, but he wasn't alone. There were his lifelong friends with him, friends that he had grown
up with. First he had the beautiful night sky and the same stars and moon that we used to see
through a telescope. Then he had the daylight and the sun to shine on him. And through it all, he
was breathing in the scent of pine trees from the snowy range. He heard the wind, the ever-
present Wyoming wind, for the last time. He had one more friend with him, he had God. And I
feel better knowing he wasn't alone.

Matt's beating, hospitalization, and funeral focused world-wide attention on hate. Good is coming
out of evil. People have said enough is enough. I miss my son, but I am proud to be able to say
that he is my son.

Matt believed that there were crimes and incidents that justified the death penalty. I too believe
in the death penalty. I would like nothing better than to see you die, Mr. McKinney. However, this
is the time to begin the healing process. To show mercy on someone who refused to show any
mercy. Mr. McKinney, I am going to grant you life, as hard as it is for me to do so, because of
Matthew. Every time you celebrate Christmas, a birthday, the Fourth of July, remember that Matt
isn't. Every time you wake up in your prison cell, remember that you had the opportunity and the
ability to stop your actions that night. You robbed me of something very precious, and I will never
forgive you for that. Mr. McKinney, I give you life in the memory of one who no longer lives. May
you live a long life, and may you thank Matthew every day for it.
The Laramie Project
By Moises Kaufman and the members of the Tectonic Theater Project

On October 7, 1998, a young gay man was discovered bound to a fence in the hills outside
Laramie, Wyoming, savagely beaten and left to die in an act of brutality and hate that shocked
the nation. In one of 200 interviews conducted by the Tectonic Theatre Project members, one ER
doctor tells about his involvement. Aaron McKinney was one of Matthew Shepards two
murderers.

DR. CANTWAY: I was working in the emergency room the night Matthew Shepard was brought
in. I don't think that any of us, ah, can remember seeing a patient in that condition for a long
time - those of us who've worked in big city hospitals have seen this. Ah, but we have some
people here who've not worked in a big city hospital. And, ah, it's not something you expect here.

Ah, you expect it, you expect this kind of injuries to come from a car going down a hill at eighty
miles an hour. You expect to see gross injuries from something like that - this horrendous,
terrible thing. Ah, but you don't expect to see that from someone doing this to another person.

The ambulance report said it was a beating, so we knew.

Your first thought is... well, certainly you'd like to think that it's somebody from out of town, that
comes through and beats somebody. I mean, things like this happen, you know, and it happens
in Laramie... it offends us.

Now the strange thing is, twenty minutes before Matthew came in, Aaron McKinney was brought
in by his girlfriend. Now I guess he had gotten into a fight later on that night back in town, so I
am workin' on Aaron and the ambulance comes in with Matthew. Now at this point, I don't know
that there's a connection - at all. So I tell Aaron to wait and I go and treat Matthew. So there's
Aaron in one room of the ER, and Matthew in another room two doors down.

Then two days later, I found out the connection and I was very... struck! They were two kids!
They were both my patients and they were two kids! I took care of both of them... of both their
bodies... And... for a brief moment... I wondered if this is how God feels when he looks down at
us. How we are all his kids... our bodies... our souls... And I felt a great deal of compassion... for
both of them...
I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER by Robert Anderson

Middle-aged Gene is a college professor and widower who, try as he might, has never been able to
love his father, a self-made man who was once mayor of their small town and who is now 80. Genes
father is mean, unloving, ungenerous, selfish, and racist. Gene is forced to deal with his father when
genes mother dies, stalling Genes plan to move to California with his new fiance.

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?
Goodbye, Dad.
BOYS LIFE by Howard Korder

Phil is twenty-something, a New Yorker who is an innocent, vulnerable, anxious and nervous self-
dramatizer whos tired of not being taken seriously. He regularly meets with his college friends to
complain about his lack of success in meeting the right girl. Here, at a park bench, he shares with
his best friend Jack the latest chapter in his unsuccessful pursuits with his best friend Jack and
describes the brief fling he recently had with the equally neurotic Karen.

PHIL: I would have destroyed myself for this woman. Gladly. I would have eaten garbage. I would
have sliced my wrists open. Under the right circumstances, I mean, if she said, "Hey, Phil, why don't
you just cut your wrists open?" Well, come on, but if seriously... We clicked, we connected on so
many things, right off the bat, we talked about God for three hours once. I don't know what good it
did, but that intensity... and the first time we went to bed, I didn't even touch her. I didn't want to,
understand what I'm saying? And you know, I played it very casually, because, all right, I've had some
rough experiences, I'm the first to admit, but after a couple weeks I could feel we were right there, so
I laid it down, everything I wanted to tell her, and... and she says to me, she says... "Nobody should
ever need another person that badly." Do you believe that? "Nobody should ever...!" What is that? Is
that something you saw on TV? I dump my heart on the table, you give me Dr. Joyce Brothers?
"Need, need," I'm saying I love you, is that so wrong? Is that not allowed anymore? (Pause.) And so
what if I did need her? Is that so bad? All right, crucify me, I needed her! So what! I don't want to be
by myself, I'm by myself I feel like I'm going out of my mind, I do. I sit there, I'm thinking forget it, I'm
not gonna make it through the next ten seconds. I just can't stand it. But I do, somehow, I get through
the ten seconds, but then I have to do it all over again, cause they just keep coming, all these...
Seconds, floating by, while I'm waiting for something to happen, I don't know what, a car wreck, a
nuclear war or something, that sounds awful but at least there'd be this instant when I'd know I was
alive. Just once. Cause I look in the mirror, and I cant believe Im really there. I cant believe thats
me. And I dont know who I am, or where Im going. And I wish Id never been born. Not only that, my
hair is falling out, and that really sucks.
THE GOAT or Who is Sylvia? by Edward Albee

In this black comedy (played straight), teenage Billy has recently learned that his father is having a sexual affair
with a goat. Billy, who is gay, reveals in this monologue his unwholesome love for his father. (Right after this
speech, Billy intimately kisses his father.) Billy is alone with father when he delivers this speech; Billy has been
crying.

They asked us at schoolwhen? Last week, last month?they asked each of us in this class to talk about how
normal our lives were, how ... how conventional it all was and how did we feel about itAnd a lot of the guys
got up and talked about you knowour home lives, how our parents get on, and all, and it wasnt very
special except the guys whose parents are divorced or one has died or gone crazy, or whateverGood private
school. All guys, too; thanks. I mean, it was all about what youd expect. Maybe everybody left all the juicy
stuff out, or they didnt know itSo, it was all pretty dull, pretty much what youd expectYou know what Im
going to tell themwhen I get up there on my hind legs?...I think what Ill tell them is this: that Ive been living
with two people about as splendid as you can get; that if Id been born to other people, it couldnt have been
any better. No; really; I mean it. You two guys are about as good as they come. Youre smart, and fair, and you
have a sense of humorboth of youandand youre Democrats. You are Democrats, arent you?...Thats
what I thought, and youve figured out that raising a kid does not include making him into a carbon copy of
you, that youre letting me think youre putting up with me being gay far better than you probably really
areThank you, by the wayAnyway, youve let me have it better than a lot of kids, better than a lot of Moms
and Dads have, a lot closer to what being grown up will look likeas far as I can tell. Good guidance; its great
to see how two people can love each otherAt least thats what I thoughtuntil yesterday, until the shit hit
the fan!... (Big crying underneath) Until the shit hit the fan, and the talk I was going to do at school became
history. (Exaggerated) What will I say now!? Goodness me! The Good Ship Lollipop has gone and sunk. (More
normal tone) What will I say!? Well, lets see: I came home yesterday and everything had been great
absolutely normal, therefore great. Great parents, great house, great trees, great carsyou know, the old
great. (Bigger now, more exaggerated) But then today I come home, and what do I find? I find my great
Mom and my great Dad talking about a letter from great good friend RossA letter from great good friend
Ross written to great good Mom about how great good Dad has been out in the barnyard fucking animals!!
Animals! Well, one in particular. A goat! A fucking goat! You see, guys, your stories are swell or whatever, but
Ive got onell knock your socks off, as they used to say, wipe the tattoos right off your butts. Ya see, while
great old Mom and great old Dad have been doing the great old parent thing, one of them has been
underneath the house, down in the cellar, digging a pit so deep!, so wide!, soHUGE!...well all fall in and
(crying now) and neverbeabletoclimboutagainno matter how much we want to, how hard we try.
And you see, kids, fellow students, you see, I love these people. I love the man whos been down there
diggingwhen hes not giving it to a goat! I love this man! I love him! I love him!
LITTLE MURDERS by Jules Feiffer

New York, 1969. The free-thinking Reverend Dupas is a hippie sort of preacher, who probably got ordained
by responding to an ad in the back of Rolling Stone Magazine. He is marrying two young New Yorkers, with the
understanding that he will not mention God during the ceremony.

DUPAS: You all know why we're here. There is often so much sham about this business of marriage. Everyone
accepts it. Ritual. That's why I was so heartened when Alfred asked me to perform this ceremony. He has
certain beliefs that I assume you all know. He is an atheist, which is perfectly all right. Really it is. I happen not
to be, but inasmuch as this ceremony connotates an abandonment of ritual in the search for truth, I agreed to
perform it. First, let me state frankly to you, Alfred, and to you, Patricia, that of the two hundred marriages I
have performed, all but seven have failed. So the odds are not good. We don't like to admit it, especially at the
wedding ceremony, but it's in the back of all our minds, isn't it? How long will it last? We all think that, don't
we? We don't like to bring it out in the open, but we all think that. Well, I say why not bring it out in the open?
Why does one decide to marry? Social pressure? Boredom? Loneliness? Sexual appeasement? Um, Love? I do
not put any of these reasons down. Each, in its own way, is adequate. Each is all right. I married a musician last
year who wanted to get married in order to stop masturbating. (guests stir) Please don't be startled. I am not
putting it down. That marriage did not work. But the man tried. Now the man is separated, and still
masturbatingbut he is at peace with himself. He tried society's way. So you see, it was not a mistake, it
turned out all right. Last month I married a novelist to a painter, with everyone at the wedding under the
influence of hallucinogenic drugs. The drug quickened our mental responses but slowed our physical
responses. It took two days to perform the ceremony. But never had the words so much meaning. That
marriage should last. Still, if it does notwell, that will be all right. For, don't you see, any step that one takes
is useful, is positive, has to be positive, because it is part of life. And negation of the previously taken step is
positive. It too is part of life. And in this light, and only in this light, should marriage be regarded. As a small,
single step. If it worksfine! If it failsfine! Look elsewhere for satisfaction. Perhaps to more marriagesfine!
As many as one likesfine! to homosexualityfine! To drugsaddictionI won't put it down. Each of these is
an answerfor somebody. For Alfred, today's answer is Patsy. For Patsy, today's answer is Alfred. I won't put
them down for that. So what I implore you both, Alfred and Patricia, to dwell on as I ask the questions required
by the State of New York in order to legally bind yousinister phrase, thatis that no only are the legal
questions I ask you meaningless but so, too, are those inner questions you ask of yourself meaningless. Failing
one's partner does not matter. Sexual disappointment does not matter. Nothing can hurt if we do not see it as
hurtful. Nothing can destroy if we will not see it as destructive. It is all part of life. Part of what we are. So now,
Alfred. Do you take Patricia as your lawfully wedded wife, to lovewhatever that meansto honorbut is
not dishonor, in a sense, a form of honor?to keep her in sickness, in health, in prosperity and adversity
what nonsense! Forsaking all otherswhat a shocking invasion of privacy! Rephrase that to more sensibly say:
if you choose to have affairs you won't feel guilty about themas long as you both shall live-or as long as
you're not bored with each other?...So. Patricia. Do you take Alfred here as your lawfully wedded husband, to
love-that harmful wordcan't we more wisely say: communicate?to honor-meaning I suppose, you won't
cut his balls off. Yet some men like that. And to obeywell, my very first look at you told me that you were not
the type to obey, so I went through the thesaurus and came up with these alternatives: to be loyal, to show
fealty, to show devotion, to answer the helmgeneral enough I would think, and still leave plenty of room to
dominate, as long as you both shall live?...Alfred and Patsy. I know now that whatever you do will be all right.
And Patsy's father, Carol NewquistI've never heard that name on a man before, but I'm sure it's all rightI
ask you, sir, not to feel guilt over the $250 check you gave me to mention the deity in this ceremony. What you
have done is all right. It is part of what you are, what we all are. And I beg you not to be overly perturbed when
I do not mention the deity in the ceremony. Betrayal, too, is all right. It is part of what we all are. And Patsy's
brother, Kenneth Newquist, in whose bedroom I spent a few moments earlier this afternoon and whose
mother proudly told me the decoration was by your hand entirely: I beg of you to feel no shame;
homosexuality is all right.
INNER BABY by Eric Bogosian

This monologue comes from the one-man show Pounding Nails in the Floor with My Forehead. Phil, a
motivational speaker, strides out onto the stage, arms stretched out, to applause.

Thank you! Thank you so much! I am so happy to see so many happy, smiling faces in this audience here
tonight. I am turned on by the potential for change I feel in this room. I can feel it coming up out of the
audience, into my legs, my body, my head. I am exploding with the power of change in this room tonight!
You know, I go all over this great country of ours, taking to audiences just like you, about change, about
human potential. And everywhere I go people ask me the same question, they say, "Philwhat is the secret of
happiness? What is the secret of joy? Of ecstasy?"
And everywhere I go, I tell people the same story. I tell them a story about a little boy who went into a
candy store and all he had was a nickel.

He took his nickel into the candy store and he looked at all the kinds of candy that was there, and he picked
out the candy bar that he wanted more than any other. And he said to the man behind the counter, he said,
"Sir, I'd like that candy bar right there."

The man looked at the little boy, looked at his nickel, and he said, "Sorry, son, it's a ten-cent candy bar, all
you've got is a nickel."

The boy was disappointed.

But he thought and he thought and he thought and he came up with an idea. He said, "Why don't we
compromise? Why don't we take that candy bar and cut it in half, and you take half and I'll have half for
myself. How 'bout that?"

The man smiled at the little boy.

He said, "Son, it's a ten-cent candy bar. Get your skinny ass out of my store, get me another nickel and I'll sell it
to you."

And with that the man turned his back on the little boy. And the little boy stood there, dejected, rejected,
abandoned by this man.

And he looked at the nickel in his hand, and he looked at the man's broad back turned against him, and then
he looked at the candy bar he wanted so much.

And you know what he did? He reached out and he kind of touched that candy bar... And then he reached out
and kind of held that candy bar... And then he RAN OUT the store with the candy bar.

And as he was running down the street he realized something. He still had his nickel in his hand. And in his
other hand he had a WHOLE candy bar.

And he was suddenly filled with a tremendous feeling of happiness and joy and ecstasy.

Now let me ask you something: When was the last time YOU felt that good?
ELECTRIC ROSES by David Howard

A mournful summary of a bad marriage, quickly consummated in Las Vegas and even more quickly dissolved.
Russel sits in his jail cell and tells the tale.

Russel
You ever been to Las Vegas? . . . Its something, Ill tell you. . . . You gotta go at night, though. All
those lights, man, its something. (He laughs a little.) Somebody said they musta built it at night,
cause its so damn ugly in the day. An Darrell said the only thing you ought to do in Las Vegas is eat.
You try to do anything else, theyre just taking your money . . . Course, you can drink for nothing if
you gamble, but . . . I suppose hes right anyhow . . . you cant drink enough to make it worth-while.
So, we figured, you know, what the hell, you gotta do something, you cant just sit there . . . an you
know as well as I do theres nothing to do here in Yuma at night . . . The sun goes down, this place
turns into a damn grave yard. Feel like youre in Tubac or somewhere. So, he called Abby, an we
went to get Sara. She was working. She works over at Jerrys Tastee Cone . . . Used to be the Tastee
Freeze, til they run outta money. Now its the Tastee Cone . . . An we go over there, an said, you
know, were goin to Vegas. You wanna come? You see, a woman like Sara . . .
I mean, she was pretty an all, but . . . that aint it. It was like, when I looked at her, something
happened . . . (He puzzles over what he feels.) She put a hook inside of me that wasnt ever gonna let
go . . . I knew that . . . I knew that the minute it happened. So, anyway, were drivin up there. Were
out there in the desert, up past Needles, an you know, there aint nothing out there. Its just black.
An Darrell pulls the car over, and, I dont know, runs off to take a piss or something, an me and Sara
get out of the car. . . . Abby was asleep. She always does that in the car . . . An you know, theres
nothing around. . . The only light youve got is from the stars. And Im telling you, you look up and you
look up and you can see things you never believed were up there We were standing there, an I
could feel her there next to me . . . that dark all around us. And I said, "You know why were going to
Vegas, dont you?" And she said, "Whys that?" And, I said, "So I can marry you." An she said,
"Bullshit." An I said, "I am. Im takin you to Vegas, and Im gonna marry you when we get there."
And she laughs, and she says, "Why in the hell should I marry you?" And I said . . . (His tone
becomes much more significant the words mean considerably more.) I said, "Cause no one in the
world is ever gonna feel what I feel for you right now." (There is a pause.) Hell, I dont know what was
in her head to say yes to me, but she did. I guess maybe she knew how much I wanted it . . . (He
thinks a moment.) First thing we did when we hit town was find a place that would do it for us. You
know, theyve got places that will do it all night. An we found one . . . this little white house with
electric roses that lit up the outside, an . . . I married her. Later on, we were sitting in this bar . . .
Darrells eating shrimp cocktail. You know, forty-nine cents. An Abbys over playing the nickel slots.
An this guy . . . this ass-hole, keno player . . . Hes got this shirt with flowers all over it, and his hair
looks like . . . you know, Mr. California-Dude. An hes sittin there lookin at Sara . . . just staring at
her, an you know what Im talkin about . . . Hell, I wanted to break his greasy neck. An I said, "What
are you lookin at, pal?" An he says, "Do you own her?" An I said, "Yeah, I do." And then I broke his
friggin' nose. See, you gotta understand, a woman like that, geez, if you could see how they are
around her. I start thinking about that, and . . something happens inside of me. (It is painful for him to
speak.) I admit it . . . Ive hit her . . . (Pause.) Well, what do you want me to say? Im not proud of it . . .
Sometimes, when I drink . . . all them looks . . . (quietly) Sometimes, you just wonder how strong a
person is, you know? God knows, I love her . . . Shes the most important thing in the world to me . . .
she knows that, too. No matter what happens, she knows it.
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 thought
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 than 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.
BORN YESTERDAY by Garson Kanin

Harry Brock is a self-made man who made him self by selling junk, stealing it back and selling it again,
among other inventive schemes. Not a college man, not a patient man. When he gives an order, at the
top of his lungs, it had better happen now; if not things might get physical. He has come to DC to try
and pave his own way to all the WWII debris he can get, with the help of a well-positioned senator.
Here he agrees to talk to Paul Verrall, a reporter for the magazine The New Republic.

BROCK: My point is you cant do me no harm if you make me out to be a mug. Maybe youll help me.
Everybody gets scared, and for me thats good. Everybody scares easy. You cant 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 Im the top man in my
racket. I been in it over twenty-five years. In the same racket Junk. Not steel. Junk. Look, dont butter
me up. Im a junk man. I aint 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. Im 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. Im 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, Im makin
seven, eight bucks a week from that. Three bucks from papers. So I figure out right off which is the
right racket. Im just kid, mind you, but I could see that. Pretty soon, the guy Im sellin to is handin
me anywheres from fifteen to twenty a week. So he offers me a job for ten! Dumb jerk. Id be sellin
this guy his own stuff back half the time and he never knew. (Relishing the memory.) Well, in the
night, see, Im 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.) Thats how I am..
THE NERD by Larry Shue

Willum Cubbert is an architect and a pushover. He's kind and intelligent, but "could use a little gumption." He
lacks the backbone to stand up for himself. Rick had saved Willum's life in Vietnam. Over the years, Willum and
Rick had exchanged occasional letters and greeting cards, and Willum had promised Rick that he could come to
Willum for help at any time. While Willum is hosting a dinner party for his boss, Rick shows up. His awkward
manner and inappropriate behavior throw the occasion into shambles. Rick decides to move in, and Willum
feels he cannot say no.

WILLUM: Six days. Has it been just six days? To thinkonly 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 IRSand in my folly I imagined myself unhappy. He ... he follows
me. He seems to have unlimited time, unlimited funds brother Bobs life savings, I guess he
takes an interest in my work, he goes with me into town. The other day Im not sure I can even
talk about this yet the other day, I had to take a commuter flight to St. Louisthats where theyre
building the outside elevator for the Regency and Rick wanted to come along. So I said, well, okay,
it wont be much fun, but. So, Rick came along. Everythings fine, hes sitting next to me on the
plane, a DC-8, I think. Hes wearing a little pilots hat he bought at the airport; hes 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 thinkI mean Im really
pretty sure some people did. I mean, he was wearing this dumb little pilots 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 were out of
it now, and well 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 didnt want to stand up. Its a hundred things a day like that. Little things
mostly, but theyre starting to take their toll. Im becoming irrational, snappishI dont know what to
do.
HOOTERS by Ted Talley

Ricky is a nineteen-year-old in Cape Cod for an adventurous holiday weekend picking up girls with
his buddy Clint. Now theyre bickering over a girl named Cheryl who they think might be interestedin
one of them.

RICKY: Is this far enough away? Okay. I'm glad youre 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 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 paranoid, 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!
BUMS by Robert Shaffron

BROADWAY VIC: (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. Doesnt matter. Cause Im about to tell
you a little secret. This is a little secret I know. I know it right down to the bone. Im 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 youll 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, sos 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
dont rhyme. Cant rhyme change wif change. Cant rhyme a word wif its own self." I say, "I dont
claim to be rhymin. Im just astin for a handout." He walked. Didnt gimme nothin either. But I got
this cup off im, so I guess thats somethin.
(A beat.) Spare a little change, your luck might change.
(A beat.) I aint forgot. Im 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, thats all there is. Its all luck. Good luck and bad
luck and dumb luck. Everything there is and everything there aint its just luck. I know cause I lived
luck. How come Im here on this corner in these pissy pants talkin to you is luck. May not be good
luck, but its luck. Very happy to make your acquaintance. My name is Broadway Vic. This heres my
corner. You got a dollar?
THREE DAYS OF RAIN, by Richard Greenberg

The play centers on thirtysomething Walker, his sister Nan, and their childhood friend Pip, who all meet in an
unoccupied loft in lower Manhattan in 1995 to divide the legacy of their late fathers, who were partners in a
renowned architecture firm. In an effort to bring some peace to their own lives, the three search for clues that
might explain what had gone on between their fathers, and the women in their lives, decades before.
Frustrated by the willwhich the building to Pip-- Walker finds and becomes fascinated by his father's diary. In
the diary Walker finds what he interprets as evidence of his father's silence, his aloofness and his heartlessness.

WALKER: It really is the most extraordinary document. The first thing you notice when you start
reading is the style: It doesn't have one. And it manages to sustain that for hundreds of pages - you
flip through - narratives of the most wrenching events, and the affect is entirely flat - wait - listen to
this - winter of 1966 - you know, when Theo is going under? Listen to our father's rendering: "January
3 - Theo is dying." "January 5 - Theo is dying." "January 18 - Theo dead." I mean, his partner! Best and
oldest friend: "Theo dying, Theo dying, Theo dead." You could sing it to the tune of "Ob-La-Di." And
it's all like that. Every entry. Years and years of - wait - this is the best of all - the first note - the
kickoff, you'll - listen: "1960, April 3rd to April 5th - Three days of rain." Okay. Look. Let's...
Reconstruct along with me for a moment. You are this young man. Ambitious, of course - what
architect isn't ambitious? And it's that moment when you're so bursting with feeling that people
aren't enough, your art isn't enough, you need something else, some other way to let out everything
that's in you. You buy this notebook, this volume into which you can pour your most secret, your
deepest and illicit passions. You bring it home, commence - the first sacred jottings - the feelings you
couldn't contain: "April 3rd to April 5th: Three days of rain." A weather report. A fucking weather
report! (Pause.) You know, the thing with people who never talk, the thing is you always suppose
they're harboring some enormous secret. But, just possibly, the secret is, they have absolutely
nothing to say.
This is Our Youth by Kenneth Lonergan

Set in 1982, the play depicts two days in the lives of three college-age Upper West Siders who are
from wealthy families but are living in doped-up squalor. Dennis is 21 and living in his own apartment
on New York Citys Upper West Side. Grungy, handsome, very athleticquick, fanatical and bullying.
His parents (famous painter father and social activist mother) pay his rent to keep him from living at
home and he makes his money by selling drugs. One of his customers: a nineteen-year-old misfit
named Warren, shows up with his bags after his father threw him out of their home. Dennis agrees to
let Warren stay, temporarily. In this monologue, Dennis is freaked out after learning about his young
friend's drug-induced death (his name was Stuart Grossbarta.k.a. Stuey, a.k.a. The Fat Man)
and goes through a stream of consciousness speech in which he ponders death, what he wants to do
with his life, his father's success, and his mother's emasculating behavior. At the end of the
monologue, he states that he should call his girlfriend. Then he wonders if he could get a different girl
to come over to give him a blowjob. Finally, he ends the monologue by contemplating the sheer
beauty of his own eyes.

DENNIS: I just cant believe this, man, its like so completely bizarre. And its not like I even liked the
guy that much, you know? I just knew him. You know? But if we had been doing those speedballs last
night we could both be dead now. Do you understand how close that is? I meanits death. Death.
Its so incredibly heavy, its like so much heavier than like ninety-five percent of the shit you deal with
in the average day that constitutes your supposed life, and its like so totally off to the side its like
completely ridiculous. I mean that was it. That was his life. Period. The Life of Stuart. A fat Jew from
Long Island with a grotesque accent who sold drugs and ate steak and did nothing of note like
whatsoever. I dont know, man. Im like, high on fear. I feel totally high on fear. Im likeI dont even
know what to do with myself. I wanna like go to cooking school in Florence, or like go into show
business. I could so totally be a completely great chef its like ridiculous. Or like an actor or like a
director. I should totally direct movies, man, Id be a genius at it. Like if you take the average person
with the average sensibility or sense of humor or the way they look at the world and what thoughts
they have or what they think, and you compare it to the way I look at shit and the shit I come up with
to say, or just the slant I put on shit, theres just no comparison at all. I could totally make movies,
man, I would be like one of the greatest movie makers of all time. Plus I am like so much better at
sports than anyone I know except Wally and those big black basketball players, man, but I totally
played with those guys and completely earned their respect, and Wally was like, Denny, man, you
are the only white friend I have who I can take uptown and hang out with my friends and not be
embarrassed. Because I just go up there and hang out with them and like get them so much more
stoned than theyve ever been in their life and like am completely not intimidated by them at all. You
know?
(Cont. on next page)
THIS IS OUR YOUTH (Dennis), PART TWO

DENNIS: Im high on fear, man. I am completely stoned out of my mind on fear. And like you guys
think Im like totally confident and on top of it, but its not true at all. My fuckin mother is so fuckin
harsh and wildly extreme that I just got trained to snap back twice as hard the minute anybody starts
to fuck with me. Thats how I fight with Valerie. Like the minute we get into an argument whatever
she says to me I just double it and totally get in her face until she backs down or has to like, leave the
room. And it completely works too, because I dont have to take any of the shit I see all my male
friends taking from their fuckin girlfriends, or like the shit my father takes from my mother. I mean all
he does is fuckin lord it over everybody man, over all my brothers and sisters and like all his fuckin
assistants and his dealers and agents and like all these fuckin celebrities who buy his art, because he
toally knows that hes like a complete living genius and so hes like, Why should I spend two minutes
talking to anybody I dont want to? Except now hes like torturing everyone constantly because he
basically never doesnt have to pee, and my mother is freaking out because shes working fourteen
hours a day because they cut the money out of all her programs and shes totally predicting major
inner city catastrophe in years to come, and she completely has his balls in a vice. Shes like, Eddie,
youre an asshole. Eddie, nobody gives a shit if you have to pee: You always have to pee, so shut up.
She just tramples him, man. Shes like, No matter what you do it doesnt matter, because all you do
is sell a bunch of paintings to like one percent of the population and Im out there every day like,
saving childrens lives and trying to help real people who are being destroyed by Ronald Reagan So
whatever you do and however famous you are its just a total tissue of conceit, because its got
nothing to do with anybody but rich people.

(Cont. on next page)

THIS IS OUR YOUTH (Dennis), PART THREE

She just makes total emasculated mincemeat out of him and the only thing he can do to fight back is
go fuck some twenty year old groupie, only now he cant do that anymore because hes so sick, so
hes just totally in her power, and all he can do is torture her from like a totally weaker position, and
shes like laughing in his face. My family is sick, man, theyre sick. You think your fuckin father is
crazy? What is like everywhere he went total strangers worshipped him as a god? Wait till his health
starts to go. Can you imagine what thats like? Like seriously, what does that feel like, to be looking
ahead like five years and not knowing whether youre still gonna be here? You can totally see why
people are religious, man. I mean how much better would it be to think youre gonna be somewhere,
you know? Instead of absolutely nowhere. Like gone, forever. (Pause.) That is so fuckin scary. I am so
fuckin scared right now. (Pause.) I gotta call my girlfriend. You have totally fucked me up, by the way.
How emblematic of your personality is it that you walk into a room for ten minutes and break the
exact item calculated to wreak the maximum possible amount of havoc, no matter where you are?
Youre a total troublemaker, Warren. I should totally ban you from my house. I am so keyed up. I
cant shut up. I wish Valerie was here. Maybe I should call that girl Natalie and see if she'll come over
and give me a blowjob. She really likes me, man. She told my sister I had beautiful eyes. (Pause.) I do
have totally amazing eyes. Theyre a completely amazing, unique shape. Like most people with my
kind of eyes arent shaped like this at all. My eyes are like totally intense and direct. Like if I look
people in the eye, like nine out of ten people cant even hold my gaze.
This is Our Youth by Kenneth Lonergan

Set in 1982, the play depicts two days in the lives of three college-age Upper West Siders who are
from wealthy families but are living in doped-up squalor.

Warren Stroub, 19. Drug-dealer Dennis hero-worshipping, indifferently adjusted friend Warren has
impulsively stolen $15,000 from his father, an abusive lingerie tycoon who is "not a criminal, just in
business with criminals. After learning of his friends death, Warren contemplates the words of his
abusive father, his sister's brutal death, and how his father came to be the way he is.

WARREN: It is sort of amazing that one of us actually died. You know? (Pause.) Its like my Dads
always saying, Do you know how bad you guys would have to fuck up before anything really serious
ever happened to you? (Pause.) You and all your friends from the Upper West Side who went to that
fuckin school where they think its gonna cripple you for life if they teach you how to spell? (Pause.)
Do you know what happens to other kids who do the kind of shit you guys do? They die, man. And
the only difference between you and them is my moneyIts like a big fuckin safety net, but you
cant stretch it too far, man, because your sister fell right through it. (Pause.) But the fact is, hes just
so freaked out of his mind that he did so well, and it all blew up in his face anyway. Like he did this
great enterprising thing for himself and his family, and made a fortune in this incredibly tough racket,
and got a house on the Park without any help from anyone, and he never felt bad for anyone who
couldnt do the same thing. But when he was at the height of his powers, he totally lost control of his
own daughter, and she ended up getting beaten to death by some guy from the world next door to
us. And there was nothing he could do about it. (Pause.) Sofor the last nine years, hes been trying
to literally pound his life back into shape. But its not really going too well, because hes totally by
himself. (Pause.) You know?
This is Our Youth by Kenneth Lonergan

Set in 1982, the play depicts two days in the lives of three college-age Upper West Siders who are
from wealthy families but are living in doped-up squalor.

Dennis is 21 and living in his own apartment on New York Citys Upper West Side. Grungy, handsome,
very athleticquick, fanatical and bullying. His parents (famous painter father and social activist
mother) pay his rent to keep him from living at home and he makes his money by selling drugs. One of
his customers: a nineteen-year-old misfit named Warren, shows up with his bags after his father
threw him out of their home. Dennis agrees to let Warren stay, temporarily, but laces into him when
he complains about Dennis demand for the money owed him for past drug purchases.

DENNIS: Yeah, and I always smoke pot with you, all of you, my pot, all the time, like hundreds and
hundreds of dollars worth. So why shouldnt I make some money offa you? You fuckin guys like gripe
at me all the time, and Im providing you schmucks with such a crucial service. Plus Im developing
valuable entrepreneurial skills for my future. Plus Im like providing you with precious memories of
your youth, for when youre fuckin old. Im like the basis of half your personality. All you do is imitate
me. I turned you onto The Honeymooners, Frank Zappa, Ernst Lubitch, boxer shorts,--Sushi. Im like a
one-man youth culture for you pathetic assholes. Youre gonna remember your youth as like a gray
stoned haze punctuated by a series of beatings from your Dad, and like, my jokes. God damn. You
know how much pot Ive thrown out the window for you guys in the middle of the night when youre
wandering around the street like junkies looking for half a joint so you can go to sleep, because you
scraped all the resin out of your pipes? And you bitch about the fact that along the way I turn a little
profit? You should thank God you ever met me, you little fuckin hero-worshipping little fag.
187 by Jose Rivera

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

JOHN: Theres something I have to tell you...... hi... hi... Im sorry, hi...(Catching his breath.) II dont
chase people. I have my pride, you know. Prides very important these days. Not much of it left.
Specially when youre working a crap job like we are, huh? The conditions in that place... like a slave
labor camp... some gulag... I dont think theyre gonna pass a hike in the minimum wage... looks like
were stuck in this Dickensian hell forever... Dust, cat crap, bad lighting, noise, filth, low pay: its
immoral is what it is; but its work, I guess, and I dont let the work get me down. I have my pride, like
I said. Thats why I feel weird, you know? Chasing you. I dont chase people. Hard to have a lotta pride
when youre waiting for a bus, I imagine. (Beat.) Ive got an old T-bird. Twenty trillion mules. But its
an ass kicker. Red interior. Original everythingexcept the engine. Which I rebuilt myself. Youve
probably seen it in the lot. Its right over... there. I could drive you... I mean, I swallowed my pride and
ran all the way out here chasing you to ask if I could drive you home in my ancient but very cool T-
bird. Wanna? Im John. Youre from a Spanish speaking country. But you dont look like a lot of the
Spanish speakers at the plant. You are, uh... well... theyre kinda smaller.., they have more Indian, I
guess, features.., dark... and eyes that really penetrate... you dont know what their minds are
doing... you look into their eyes and its like looking into an infinite tunnel going into this deep ancient
place and all you can see is this dark alphabet spelling words and feelings you cant read. Youre not
like them. Your eyes arent so... unfathomable. Theres light in that tunnel. A sparkle. Something I can
recognize and read. A friendliness. Like you dont wanna, you know, cut me up on some Mayan
pyramid and offer my heart to some jealous horrible god. Youre not gonna do that! Theres a
frightening, primitive distance I feel with the other Spanish speakers at work. But youre different.
Youre a different branch of the Spanish speaking world. Where is your home? Where? Oh, Argentina.
(Smiles.) That makes sense. Theres something more Italian about you than those Guatemalan chicks I
see all the time. A Sophia Loren kinda quality...

(Cont. on next pg.)

187, PART TWO-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Whoa, back up... I know youre not Sophia Loren. Just want to say hello. I dont know. You dont have
to...Idiota? That doesnt sound like a compliment! Whos talking about love anyway? I just wanna
drive you home in my car. I dont want you to wear yourself out taking four buses every day. I dont
want to see you breaking your back any more than you have to. Im offering you something good in
your completely crappy day. I didnt imply anything else. Youyou brought up sex and love, not
me! I have feelings too. Latin Americans dont corner the market on feelings! Yeah, thats fine. You
can do that. You say no its no. Im not from the 1950s when no didnt mean jack to a man. I know
what "pendejo" means: you cant call me that cause I aint one!
(Slight beat.) I was drawn to the light reflected in your eyes. It warms me. I dont get enough of that
light in my life. Thought if you spent a little time in my car as I drove you home you could tell me
aboutyour world and Id be able to enjoy that light a few extra minutes.
(Slight beat.) Because I live in darkness. I live in a pit. I live among the moles and shrews and
earthworms, all these eyeless creatures digging in the crap of the world looking for their love and
their sex. Youre the one person Ive seen in a year in this city thats got more than survival on their
minds, whose laughter Ive heard louder and clearer than all the sounds of all the machinery in that
damn plant. I thought I could live on that a few extra minutes a day. To keep me from suffocating in
the darkness. You have that much you could hold over me. That much. And I dont have anything. No
money, no degrees, no family, no politics: just a pathetic old car my older brothergave me cause he
felt sorry for me. (Slight beat.) The only thing I have, I guess, is that I live here. Im American. And
youre not. I have this country and its laws. And you dont. You have your papers, honey? You have
that green card? You have a right to be standing here waiting for my bus? Using up my roads and my
housing? Ive seen it happen beforeIve seen the company call Immigration every time theres a
little agitation at the plant. Union talk. Unhappy workers. Ive seen it. Its not nice. The place goes
crazy when those agents appear. You see old people running pretty fast! Id laughI wouldId
laugh watching those pretty legs running from the INS like a dog.
(Beat.) Im sorry. Forget that. Sounding like a Nazi ass. I dont mean to make threats to you. Im not
the kind to do that. I guess its the only power I thought I had over you. And I guess I dont even have
that.
KING LEAR Act I, Scene ii. The Earl of Gloucester's castle.

Enter EDMUND, with a letter

EDMUND:
Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW Act IV, Scene i. Petruchios country house.

PETRUCHIO:
Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty;
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper's call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
That bate and beat and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
As with the meat, some undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed;
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:
Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
That all is done in reverend care of her;
And in conclusion she shall watch all night:
And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show.

Exit
MEASURE FOR MEASURE Act II, Scene ii. A room in Angelos house.
ANGELO:
From thee, even from thy virtue!
What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha!
Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I
That, lying by the violet in the sun,
Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live!
Thieves for their robbery have authority
When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,
That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite. Even till now,
When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how.

Exit
JULIUS CAESAR Act I, Scene ii. A public place.

CASSIUS:
I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Caesar; so were you:
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in
And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Caesar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'
I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Caesar. And this man
Is now become a god, and Cassius is
A wretched creature and must bend his body,
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world
And bear the palm alone.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE Act III, Scene i

CLAUDIO:
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod, and the dilated spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbd ice;
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathd worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
HENRY V Act IV, Scene iii
KING HENRY V:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
*This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
MACBETH Act IV, Scene iii

MALCOLM:
Be not offended:
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think withal
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before,
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed
It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms
I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust, and my desire
All continent impediments would o'erbear
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
Than such an one to reign.
TWELFTH NIGHT Act IV, Scene iii. Olivias garden. SEBASTIAN
SEBASTIAN:
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't;
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service;
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
To any other trust but that I am mad
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing
As I perceive she does: there's something in't
That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes.