Owen Monologue from John Millington Synge

From John Millington Synge by Deirdre of the Sorrows

43 sec

— _with a burst of rage._ — It’s Naisi, Naisi, is it? Then, I tell you, you’ll have great sport one day seeing Naisi getting a harshness in his two sheep’s eyes and he looking on yourself. Would you credit it, my father used to be in the broom and heather kissing Lavarcham, with a little bird chirping out above their heads, and now she’d scare a raven from a carcase on a hill. Queens get old, Deirdre, with their white and long arms going from them, and their backs hooping. I tell you it’s a poor thing to see a queen’s nose reaching down to scrape her chin.

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