CYMBELINE

IMOGEN
Act III, sc. 4 (line 75)
Why, I must die;
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart.
Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard. What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,
Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: though those that
are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her
That now thou tirest on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

HONOUR
Sophie:
Well I suppose I might. [Beat] You’re so – you’re so clear. You seem so clear about things. Whereas I’m – I’m
so – I can never quite say what I’m – Even to myself, I’m so inarticulate. [Beat] Some nights I lie awake and
go over the things I’ve said. Confidently. The things I’ve said confidently and they – they fall to pieces. [Beat]
And where there were words there is now just – just this feeling of – of impossibility. That everything is –
There’s no way through it – [Beat] I – used to feel that way when I – was very small. That same feeling. Not a
childish feeling – well maybe. As if I was choking on – As if life was coming down on me and I couldn’t see my
way through it. What does a child who has everything suffer from? Who could name it? I can’t. I can’t.
[Breaking] But it – was a -sort of – I used to see it in my head as a jungle. Around me. Surrounding me. Some
darkness growing, something – organic, alive – and the only thing that kept me – kept me – here – was the
picture of Honour and George. Silly. [Beat] Because I’m old now and I shouldn’t remember that any more.
Lying in bed and feeling that they were there: outside the room in all their – their warmth, their – a kind of
charm to them. Maybe you’re right and it was – not so simple as it looked, but they gave such a strong sense
of – love for each other and inside that – I felt – I felt loved. And since I’ve gotten older I don’t feel –
[Weeping] I feel as if all that – all the – Everything that saved me has fallen from me and you know, I’m not a
child any more. No. I’m not a kid any more. But I still feel – I need – I need… [Beat] I wish – I – wish I was
more – like you. Like you.
THREE TALL WOMEN

C:

Is it like this? What about the happy times… the happiest moments? I haven’t had them yet, have I?
all done at twenty – six? I can’t imagine that. I had some, of course, some of what will probably be
the happiest even when I get to the point I can begin to think about looking back without feeling silly,
though God knows when that  will be! – not feeling silly – if ever. Confirmation, for example, that
wonderful time: the white dress Mother made, Sis all jealous and excited, jumping up and down while
sulking at the same time. But even now, you see, I’m remembering, and what I’m remembering
doesn’t have to do with what I felt, but what I remember. They say you can’t remember pain. Well,
maybe you can’t remember pleasure, either – in the same way, I mean, in the way you can’t
remember pain. Maybe all you can remember is the memory of it… remembering, remembering it. I
know my best times – what is it? happiest? – haven’t happened yet. They’re to come.  Aren’t they?
Please? And… whatever evil comes, whatever loss and taking away comes, won’t it all be balanced
out? Please? I’m not a fool, but there is a lot of happiness along the way. Isn’t there!? And isn’t it
always ahead? Aren’t I right? Aren’t I? I mean… all along the way? No? Please?
THE STONEWATER RAPTURE

CARLYLE:
It wasn’t the football team. They were all angels! The angel who looked like Arthur Horrishill had
been standing on a barrel, higher up, away from everybody else, casting the reflection of his skin all
over the room, like marble. He had the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. And I knew who he really
was. And, as the angels pressed their hands down hard on my limbs, He alone came into me. And he
pushed Himself all through me. And I’d never felt the same special way before. All hot, and my skin
was shooting electricity so bright I could see it. I haven’t felt so good since I was a baby and Mama
gave me backrubs on her knee. I was the sun. And I never screamed. Oh no. I didn’t make a single
sound except to say “yes.”

I’m telling you, I was chosen, and it was the most spiritual night of my life.

After God came to me, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I was lying on my own front lawn, as
if I’d fallen from a cloud in the sky. And when I saw the sun rise, I knew it was carrying a little lost
piece of me. I went inside, crawled into bed, and nobody knew it had all happened but me. You
believe in the infallible truth of our Lord, don’t you, Whitney? He’d never play a joke or anything. Say
He saw the Russians making bombs, or the Americans making bombs and overcrowded cities, and
forest fires and unmarried people fornicating, and He got real mad at the world. Or even just bored.
Would he ever play a joke and take it all out on one person? Because I’m pregnant.