Monologue

Mary Doul Monologue from The Well of the Saints: A Comedy in Three Acts

From The Well of the Saints: A Comedy in Three Acts by J. M. (John Millington) Synge

female · anguished · 1:42 min

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mournfully. — Ah, God help me... God help me; the blackness wasn’t so black at all the other time as it is this time, and it’s destroyed I’ll be now, and hard set to get my living working alone, when it’s few are passing and the winds are cold. ((She begins shredding rushes.)) I’m thinking short days will be long days to me from this time, and I sitting here, not seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind but long prayers that Martin Doul’ll get his reward in a short while for the villainy of his heart. It’s great jokes the people’ll be making now, I’m thinking, and they pass me by, pointing their fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it’s no quiet or decency I’ll have from this day till I’m an old woman with long white hair and it twisting from my brow. (She fumbles with her hair, and then seems to hear something. Listens for a moment.) There’s a queer, slouching step coming on the road.... God help me, he’s coming surely. (She stays perfectly quiet. Martin Doul gropes in on right, blind also.)

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30s · despair · isolation · betrayal · fate

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