Now, Mildred, spare those pains. I have not left Our talkers in the library, and climbed The wearisome ascent to this your bower In company with you,--I have not dared... Nay, worked such prodigies as sparing you Lord Mertoun's pedigree before the flood, Which Thorold seemed in very act to tell --Or bringing Austin to pluck up that most Firm-rooted heresy--your suitor's eyes, He would maintain, were grey instead of blue-- I think I brought him to contrition!--Well, I have not done such things, (all to deserve A minute's quiet cousin's talk with you,) To be dismissed so coolly. (MILDRED: Guendolen! What have I done? what could suggest...) There, there! Do I not comprehend you'd be alone To throw those testimonies in a heap, Thorold's enlargings, Austin's brevities, With that poor silly heartless Guendolen's Ill-time misplaced attempted smartnesses-- And sift their sense out? now, I come to spare you Nearly a whole night's labour. Ask and have! Demand, he answered! Lack I ears and eyes? Am I perplexed which side of the rock-table The Conqueror dined on when he landed first, Lord Mertoun's ancestor was bidden take-- The bow-hand or the arrow-hand's great meed? Mildred, the Earl has soft blue eyes! (MILDRED: My brother-- Did he... you said that he received him well?) If I said only "well" I said not much. Oh, stay--which brother?

Guendolen Tresham Monologue from A Blot in the 'Scutcheon

Rehearse Guendolen Tresham's monologue