Lavarcham Monologue from Deirdre of the Sorrows

From Deirdre of the Sorrows by John Millington Synge

female · anguished · 54 sec

— despairingly. — I’m late so with my warnings, for Fergus’d talk the moon over to take a new path in the sky. You’ll not stop him this day, and isn’t it a strange story you were a plague and torment, since you were that height, to those did hang their lifetimes on your voice. Don’t think bad of my crying. I’m not the like of many and I’d see a score of naked corpses and not heed them at all, but I’m destroyed seeing yourself in your hour of joy when the end is coming surely. [Owen comes in quickly, rather ragged, bows to Deirdre.

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