Monologue

The Chisera Monologue from The Arrow-Maker: A Drama in Three Acts

From The Arrow-Maker: A Drama in Three Acts by Mary Austin

female · joyful · 1:25 min

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If no one does me no more wrong than you, Simwa, I need no cursing. But, in truth, my father did give me--Ah, now I have thought of another gift for you, Arrow-Maker of Sagharawite! Before he died, the medicine man, my father--did I not tell you? (she rummages eagerly in her medicine bag)--gave me this magic arrow against my evil hour. ((Drawing it out.)) See how heavy it is, and how the blood drain is cut in a medicine writing round and round the shaft. (SIMWA: What magic has it?) That however far and feebly it is shot, it flies straight to the mark, over hills and high mountains, in the dark or light, and death rides upon its shaft. (Laughing.) Why, you could kill even me with this arrow. See, I have tied it in your quiver, so that you may not mistake it and shoot it away on any slight occasion. It is my latest gift to you, Beloved.

About this piece

20s · joy · love · gift · death · trust

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