Monologue

Visc Monologue from The Countess of Escarbagnas

From The Countess of Escarbagnas by Molière

male · anguished · 1:49 min

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Yes; but you do not take into consideration that what amuses you drives me to despair; and that one cannot dissimulate long when one is under the sway of love as true as that which I feel for you. It is cruel to think, dear Julia, that this amusement of yours should deprive me of the few moments during which I could speak to you of my love, and last night I wrote on the subject some verses that I cannot help repeating to you, so true is it that the mania of reciting one's verses is inseparable from the title of a poet: "Iris, too long thou keepst on torture's rack One who obeys thy laws, yet whisp'ring chides In that thou bidst me boast a joy I lack, And hush the sorrow that my bosom hides. Must thy dear eyes, to which I yield my arms, From my sad sighs draw wanton pleasure still? Is't not enough to suffer for thy charms That I must grieve at thy capricious will? This double martyrdom a pain affords Too keen to bear at once; thy deeds, thy words, Work on my wasting heart a cruel doom, Love bids it burn; constraint its life doth chill. If pity soften not thy wayward will, Love, feigned and real, will lead me to the tomb."

About this piece

20s · despair · love · suffering · capriciousness

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