Monologue

Deirdre Monologue from John Millington Synge

From John Millington Synge by Deirdre of the Sorrows

21 sec

— _very defiant._ — I would not, Conchubor. A girl born the way I’m born is more likely to wish for a mate who’d be her likeness. . . . A man with his hair like the raven, maybe, and his skin like the snow and his lips like blood spilt on it.

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