Monologue

Conchubor Monologue from Deirdre of the Sorrows

From Deirdre of the Sorrows by John Millington Synge

30 sec

It’s not long you’ll be desolate, and I seven years saying, “It’s a bright day for Deirdre in the woods of Alban”; or saying again, “What way will Deirdre be sleeping this night, and wet leaves and branches driving from the north?” Let you not break the thing I’ve set my life on, and you giving yourself up to your sorrow when it’s joy and sorrow do burn out like straw blazing in an east wind.

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