Monologue

Rebecca Monologue from Rosmersholm

From Rosmersholm by Henrik Ibsen

female · anguished · 42 sec

That too. That too. My leaving you will save the best that is in you. (Rosmer: Ah, there is nothing left to save in me.) There is. But I--after this I should only be like some sea-sprite hanging on to the barque you are striving to sail forward in, and, hampering its progress. I must go overboard. Do you think I could go through the world bearing the burden of a spoiled life--brooding for ever over the happiness which I have forfeited by my past? I must throw up the game, John.

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