ALWAYS RIDICULOUS
A monologue from the
play by Jose
Echegaray
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Poet Lore, Volume XXVII, Summer 1916, Number III. |
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TERESA: I can't read anymore. How tiresome this novel
is. [She drops the book.] Everything bores me. [Gets
up and looks out at rear of stage.] Yes, the park is very
beautiful, there is no other like it in Madrid, but it's always
the same, I know every tree, one by one, and every branch, leaf
by leaf. [Goes towards front of stage.] I don't know what
to do, truly, I don't know what to do! If I were a child I would
play with her. Poor Maria! [Looking at her daughter.]
But those days have passed. Now I'm neither happy nor able to
pretend I'm happy, or if I do pretend, it's such an effort that
I think my heart will burst and my nerves tear in pieces. What
disgust! What weariness! I'm twenty-five years old. I feel as
if I were fifty. When Eugenio and Father come they must not notice
anything. I will practice my smiles in the mirror again. [Looks
into mirror.] This way -- No! -- this way. [Trying to
smile.] That's not a smile, that's just a grimace of weariness
and discouragement. No! The smiles don't flourish. I must laugh
hard. The force of it will hide the pain. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Everything is so funny. Ha! Ha! Ha! [To her daughter.]
Now you see, my daughter, how to amuse yourself in this world.
[Keeps on laughing and ends almost crying.]
MORE
MONOLOGUES BY JOSE ECHEGARAY |
